Untouched by the Outbreak

Dr. Hayashi examined his new specimens with a twisted sense of pride, yet impatience gnawed at him. Fifteen wasn't enough. He needed more—an army. Fifty, perhaps a hundred, regular zombies transformed into obedient specimens would be a solid foundation to begin expanding his control. Only with overwhelming numbers could he hope to capture one of the elusive Striders, or, if luck allowed, a Creeper.

Creepers, he reminded himself, were unlike the regular undead. They were quick, lurking in the shadows, emerging only at night and always in packs. Encountering one alone was rare, and a swarm of Creepers could take down a group of humans or specimens within moments. For Hayashi, capturing a Creeper was an ambition he couldn't yet afford. He needed more specimens first, enough to handle the brutal pack attacks of these nocturnal hunters.

The next phase was clear—he would send his team out, heavily guarded, to trap and haul in more regular zombies from the outskirts of the stronghold. Each addition would bring him closer to the numbers he required, closer to creating the ultimate line of defense—and his own personal legion.

Dr. Hayashi smirked as he considered the futility of the government's efforts against the undead hordes outside. Even a fully equipped soldier—a person trained, armed, and outfitted with the best armor they could scavenge—struggled to stand up against a single Creeper or even three regular zombies at once. The speed and unpredictability of the infected, combined with their sheer resilience and immunity to pain, made even the most elite soldiers vulnerable.

His specimens, however, were different. Modified to endure more, move faster, and obey without hesitation, they could tear through groups of armed soldiers with ease. Their strength surpassed that of regular zombies, and with his enhancements, they required no rest and felt no pain. They were tireless, relentless—and far deadlier than the average infected.

When it came to the more formidable zombies like Striders, Hayashi knew the government's forces were hopelessly outmatched. One Strider alone would be more than enough to annihilate a squad of soldiers. The soldiers, with their limited stamina and lack of agility, couldn't possibly keep up with a Strider's pace or match its ferocity. In the face of such creatures, all their armor, weaponry, and tactics meant nothing. And if the government ever thought their standard soldiers could secure the stronghold against Striders or Creepers, it was nothing more than a delusion.

Hayashi's only option, he knew, was to continue building his army of specimens. They were the key to survival, a new kind of soldier, molded by him and loyal to him alone.

Dr. Hayashi recalled vividly the day the elite squad encountered a Strider on the outskirts of the stronghold. Clad in full armor, the soldiers were the government's best—trained for extreme combat and equipped with state-of-the-art weaponry. Yet, even with all their gear, five of the soldiers had been slaughtered in mere moments, their armor offering little protection against the Strider's vicious speed and strength. The surviving soldiers barely managed to retreat, scrambling back to their armored personnel vehicle (APV) under a hail of their own gunfire.

But even then, the APV's powerful turret and weaponry couldn't keep up with the Strider's relentless agility. Bullets tore through the air, some barely grazing its frame, but none made a solid impact. It danced around the vehicle, its movements an unsettling blur, before slipping back into the shadows, leaving a trail of chaos and blood in its wake.

Hayashi knew that even his own specimens, as formidable as they were, struggled to keep up with such mutant zombies. He had once deployed four of his most advanced specimens against a single Strider, only to find that even they barely managed to match its speed and ferocity. While his specimens could endure and respond to basic commands, they lacked the Strider's sheer unpredictability and raw power.

This experience only deepened his resolve. If he could harness the traits of the Strider into his specimens, adapting their agility and strength, he could build an unstoppable force. One that wouldn't just serve the government's interests, but his own ambitions.

Dr. Hayashi's smirk grew as he formulated his plan. If he could capture just one Strider and bring it under his control, he could use it as a strategic asset, sending it alongside his current specimens to hunt down and capture more Striders. With a single Strider specimen at his command, the potential for a ripple effect was tantalizing—each new capture leading to the acquisition of yet another powerful soldier for his growing army.

But he knew that it wouldn't be simple. Striders rarely roamed alone; they moved with precision, often flanked by other mutated zombies, or even in groups with Creepers and Brutes. Capturing one meant drawing an entire horde to the stronghold's doorstep—a risk that would need careful planning and flawless execution. First, he needed more specimens to create a defensive line capable of holding off an attack. If he could double or even triple his current numbers, he would have a better chance of isolating a Strider without risking an uncontrollable breakout.

As he looked over the newly injected regular zombies, he felt a surge of pride in his work. Soon, he would command not just a handful, but an entire legion of specialized zombies—creatures that could surpass the government's elite soldiers in every way. His army would be his to wield, his to control, and if the time came, his to unleash on anyone who dared challenge him.

Dr. Hayashi's excitement was palpable as he imagined the next steps in his ambitious plan. If he could capture 10—no, 20 or even 30—Striders, he would have an unprecedented force capable of capturing the Brutes themselves, the ultimate prize in his evolving army.

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The Brutes were unlike any other. Towering and incredibly powerful, their brute strength made them the pinnacle of mutated zombies. Their massive fists could bend the thick steel of an armored vehicle's weapon mount, and they were known to lift cars effortlessly, hurling them like stones across great distances. Taking control of even one Brute would cement his army's dominance, enabling him to crush any opposition with ease.

The potential of wielding such raw, unstoppable force filled him with a deep, insatiable hunger for more. With an army that powerful, Dr. Hayashi could achieve anything—even surpassing the government officials he now merely tolerated.

Dr. Hayashi's thoughts raced as he envisioned the enhancements he could bring to the Striders, Creepers, and Brutes. These mutants, already far more powerful than ordinary zombies, were thrilling subjects for his twisted ambitions. If he could augment their existing capabilities—making them faster, stronger, and more resilient—he could create an unstoppable army, the likes of which the world had never seen.

The mere idea of an enhanced Strider, one with the agility to evade even the fastest projectiles while tearing through enemy ranks, sent a thrill down his spine. An improved Creeper, stealthier and deadlier in packs, would be perfect for night operations, catching any remaining survivors by surprise. And the Brutes—if he could boost their monstrous strength even further, they would be living war machines, capable of toppling walls and tearing through any defense.

Dr. Hayashi could barely contain his excitement at the thought of controlling such specimens. He grinned, knowing he was on the brink of creating a force powerful enough to change the world—one that answered only to him.

Meanwhile, Ken lay back on the creaky bed in his dimly lit apartment, feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction. He had just enjoyed the company of one of his zombie "harem"—a gathering that had grown to about eighteen female zombies since his arrival in the town Ryo had claimed. Ryo's warning to stay away from the base had hardly bothered Ken; the town itself was more than enough for his needs, as long as he could indulge in his bizarre inclinations without interference.

What surprised him most was the quality of the zombies here. Unlike those in other areas, these zombies were pristine, with no signs of rot, decay, or the unpleasant stench he'd become accustomed to elsewhere. They looked almost human, with smooth, grayish skin, dark eyes, and the beauty that made them desirable to him. He didn't fully understand why, but every female zombie he encountered here seemed fully healed, untouched by the usual signs of decomposition he'd grown to expect. It made the experience more satisfying, and he didn't need to worry about any smell or decaying flesh.

Ken noticed, too, that after he was with them, they would heal even further, just like the ones he'd encountered before. However, in this town, there was almost nothing left for them to heal. He relished the variety he now had—the freedom to pick and choose from the many beautiful figures that roamed the streets, as if they were his own silent, obedient servants. And as long as he kept his distance from Ryo's territory, Ken figured he'd continue to enjoy his strange pleasures in peace.

Ken took a moment to savor his little slice of paradise. The female zombies he'd claimed were loyal and obedient, always responding to his commands and moving faster than regular zombies, though he knew they'd stand no chance against the mutants or Ryo's enhanced followers. Still, he had no interest in fighting—he'd seen enough of what the stronger mutants could do, and he wasn't fool enough to think he could stand a chance against Ryo or his army.

The apartment he'd settled into was well-stocked. He'd found bags of rice, dried foods, and even a solar-powered setup that provided just enough electricity to keep things running. The space was clean, with a decently made bed, and the house felt secure. Outside, a nearby stream allowed him to wash up whenever he needed, and with his female zombies surrounding him protectively, he had little reason to fear going out.

Ken grinned, feeling more content than he had in a long time. Why risk a fight when he could live comfortably here, enjoying the loyalty and companionship of his undead harem? He had everything he needed to survive, and as long as he respected Ryo's terms—staying clear of the base and Ryo's inner circle—he knew he was safe from any confrontation. Life, at least for now, felt indulgently peaceful.