Zombie Domination-Chapter 323- interrogation
The scarred leader, still reeling from his squad’s instantaneous defeat, spat blood on the ground. "Go to hell. Ironblood doesn’t talk."
"Wrong answer," Julian stated, his voice devoid of emotion. He didn’t move the sword. Instead, a single, razor-thin tendril of shadow, thinner than a wire, extended from his sleeve. It snaked up the man’s leg and, with a precise, vicious flick, sliced a deep, shallow cut along the back of his knee, severing a specific tendon. The man screamed, his leg buckling.
"I can sever every motor nerve without hitting a major artery," Julian explained calmly, as if discussing the weather. "You will be a conscious, screaming heap of unresponsive flesh. Then I will hand you to her." He glanced at Beatrix, who just stared at Julian in confusion as to why Julian was pointing at her. "She is an expert in biochemical reactions. Pain, on a cellular level, is her specialty."
The leader’s bravado evaporated, replaced by primal fear. He saw no bluff in Julian’s cold eyes, only a promise of protracted, unimaginable agony. "Alright! ALRIGHT! The main camp is in the old Greenhaven rail yard, fortified! The summit... it’s in three days! At the old civic center in the dead zone between sectors! The Arbiters set it up!"
Julian didn’t react and asked another question. "And have you ever seen monsters? Shapeless, fleshy balls?"
The man looked genuinely confused, his fear mingling with bewilderment. "M-monsters? We fight mutants, bandits... not... not balls of flesh. I don’t know what you’re talking about!"
Julian believed him.The ignorance was plainly visible. He moved to the final, crucial question. "What is the resource? The prize all three factions are fighting over at the summit? What did your bosses find?"
At this, the man’s eyes widened with a different kind of fear—deeper, more secretive. He shook his head violently. "N-no... I can’t... they’ll... you don’t understand, they’ll—"
His words cut off in a wet, horrific SPLUTCH.
His head didn’t just explode; it vaporized from the inside out in a tiny, contained burst of crimson light and gray matter. One second he was talking, the next, his headless body slumped to the ground, a thin wisp of smoke rising from the cauterized stump of his neck.
The camp fell into a stunned, ghastly silence.
"...What the hell?" Fey breathed, taking a step back.
"An implanted kill-switch," Celestia said instantly, her mind cutting through the shock. "Biochemical or nanite-based. Triggered by a specific phrase, thought pattern, or attempt to reveal protected information. Extremely high-grade technology."
Beatrix knelt beside the body, careful not to touch it. "The Arbiter faction, or whoever is truly in control, possesses technology far beyond scavenged gear. This is systematic control."
Julian stared at the headless corpse, then at the three other terrified Ironblood prisoners. Their faces were sheets of white; they clearly hadn’t known about the implant, but now understood the price of disobedience.
Their eyes were wide with terror, having just witnessed their commander’s skull detonate from a hidden kill-switch. They were babbling, pleading, swearing they knew nothing more.
Julian listened for exactly three seconds.
Then, he moved.
It was swift, clinical, and utterly merciless. A flash of the matte-black Void’s Edge, a crackle of targeted lightning to stop the heart, a silver thread from Celestia that found a throat—the three men were dead before their bodies hit the ground. There were no screams, only the finality of efficient slaughter.
"They had outlived their utility," Julian stated, cleaning his blade once more. "They were assets of a faction that implants self-destruct devices. Their fear would have made them liabilities, and their knowledge was clearly limited and locked away. Eliminating them removes witnesses and potential trackers."
In this world, mercy to enemy combatants was often a death sentence.
"Now," Julian said, turning to face the group as the bodies were discreetly dragged into a nearby ruin by Zoe and Emma. "We have a location and a timeline. The question is approach. Do we make contact with one of the factions directly, or do we observe from the shadows?"
Beatrix spoke in a calm tone, "Direct contact is the faster path to actionable intelligence. Aligning with a faction, even temporarily, would grant us insider knowledge of the summit’s true purpose and the nature of this ’resource.’ The Ironblood are clearly brutal, but their enemies, the Tech-Savants or Free Folk, might be more amenable to powerful allies."
"I object," Veronica said flatly, arms crossed. "We have no idea what any of these factions truly want. The Ironblood kill their own to keep secrets. The others could be just as bad. Walking into their camp is like offering ourselves up as new, shiny tools for their war. We’d lose our neutrality and our freedom to maneuver."
Emma nodded vigorously. "Yeah! And what if the ’resource’ is something super creepy? I don’t wanna be working for the creepy guys!"
Celestia weighed in. "Veronica’s caution has merit. Our greatest advantage is that we are an unknown variable. Aligning with a faction makes us a known variable, a piece on their board. We would be subject to their politics and priorities, which are currently focused on a three-way war, not our search for the Origin."
Clarissa spoke softly, but her words carried weight. "Perhaps... we shouldn’t go to the factions at all. Not at first. We should go to the people caught in between. The ordinary survivors, the traders, the scavengers who aren’t part of any army. They see and hear everything. They know the rumors, the gossip, the truth that soldiers and leaders ignore. We could learn more by blending in with them first."
Julian listened to each perspective, his eyes calculating. After a moment of silence, he gave a slow nod.
"Clarissa’s suggestion has the most strategic value. We will not approach any faction directly. Not yet. We will enter the western territories not as warriors, but as a well-armed survivor group. We will mingle, trade, listen. We will let the factions come to us, if they notice us at all. This allows us to build a baseline of information, verify what the Ironblood prisoner said, and identify the true power dynamics from the ground level. We maintain our agency."
He looked at the sleek, ominous helicopter sitting on the highway. "And we will take a token of our... encounter. That helicopter is a significant asset. It also carries the markings of the Ironblood. It could be useful, or it could be a trap waiting to be tracked."
He walked towards the aircraft, placing a hand on its armored hull. With a focused thought, he accessed his Inventory. There was a shimmer in the air, a distortion of space, and the multi-ton helicopter vanished, stored away in his extradimensional space.
Then they decided to continue their journey, Julian drove his vehicle leisurely but remained alert to his surroundings.
Emma fanned herself dramatically, slumped in her seat. "Ugh, I’m melting! I feel like a walking piece of mutant jerky. We have to find a place to wash off."
"I second that," Clarissa said, though more politely, wiping her neck with a damp cloth. "A proper bath would do wonders for morale."
Veronica, seeing an opportunity, stretched languidly and shot a pointed look at Julian. "Well, we could always conserve water and time. Julian, you can join me. We’ll make it quick and efficient." Her tone promised the exact opposite of quick.
A chorus of protests erupted.
"Hey! No fair!" Emma yelled.
"As if you’d just’wash’," Celestia stated dryly.
"We’d be here all day waiting for you two to finish’conserving water’," Fey added, rolling her eyes.
Julian observed the bickering for a moment before cutting through it with his typical, pragmatic solution. "Arguing is inefficient. If cleaning is the priority, then everyone will clean simultaneously. That is the fastest method."
Beatrix raised an eyebrow. "And where, precisely, do you propose we all bathe ’simultaneously’? The nearest creek is likely contaminated, and our water reserves are for drinking."
"In there," Julian said, pointing out the windshield to a flat, clear area by the road. He brought the vehicle to a stop.
He stepped out and walked a few paces away. With a focused thought, he accessed his Inventory. There was a shimmer in the air, and a large, rectangular object materialized on the ground. It was a sizable, professionally constructed portable cabin on sturdy wheels, with a robust hitch for towing. It was made of reinforced composite materials, with solar panels on the roof and a small, attached water tank with a filtration system.
The group piled out of the vehicle, staring in astonishment.
"Whoa! Since when do we have a mobile bathhouse?" Emma exclaimed, her eyes wide.
Aya clapped her hands together softly. "It looks well-made! The seals, the joints..."
Fey let out an enormous, world-weary sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Ugh. Don’t look at me. Yes, I built it. He," she jabbed a thumb at Julian, "came to me with ’specifications’ after that last long trek where everyone complained about smelling like a zombie’s laundry. Said we needed ’hygienic efficiency in field conditions’. Had me working on it for weeks." She gave Julian a deadpan look. "’Hygienic efficiency’, my foot. You were totally fantasizing about this exact scenario, weren’t you? A captive audience, all soapy and steamy... you freak."
A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched Julian’s lips. He didn’t deny it. "The design meets all stated requirements for water conservation, privacy partitions, and rapid communal use. Its utility is objective."
"Privacy partitions?" Veronica purred, already walking towards the unit. "How... adjustable are they?"
"Enough," Julian said, already connecting the unit’s hitch to their vehicle. "The solar heaters should have the water at an adequate temperature by now. We have one hour. Then we move. Rotate in shifts if you must, but I suggest efficiency."
