NOVEL NEXT Chapter 66: Mad Scientist
The group scrambled to their feet, nodding eagerly. As Zack's armor propelled him into the air and towards the biological lab, the six exchanged uneasy glances.
"Should we run?" one of them whispered nervously.
"Run? Where to? That guy said a plane is coming soon. Do you want to test how far you can get before he hunts you down?"
"He's strong, sure," another said hesitantly, "but all he has is that armor. Without it, he's nothing."
"Exactly," a middle-aged man with a sharp look said, his tone low and calculating. "Let's follow him for now. The moment we get a chance, we'll take the armor. Then we'll be unstoppable."
The others nodded, their fear giving way to greed. But they were unaware that Zack, now hovering hundreds of meters above, had heard every word through his suit's advanced audio sensors. His cold eyes tracked them as they ran back to the lab. "Six will do," Zack muttered, his voice calm but chilling.
He adjusted his flight path and shot back to the biological lab, entering through the gaping hole he'd blasted earlier. The thrusters roared as he landed, the force stirring up dust and sending frightened survivors scrambling for cover. "Ah!" someone screamed, their voice filled with terror. Ignoring them entirely, Zack strode toward the staircase.
The dancer from earlier hesitated, then worked up the courage to speak. "W-what happened?"
Zack didn't stop. "He's dead. I crushed his skull and burned him alive with the propeller," he said without looking back, his tone as indifferent as if he were discussing the weather. The dancer froze, her emotions conflicting. Relief mixed with the urge to cry as she bent down, whispering, "Thank you... thank you..."
Zack continued down into the lab, his expression dark. His initial plan to develop a serum here had been scrapped. The place disgusted him now. "Ego, is the helicopter available?" he asked, his tone sharp.
"Yes, sir," the AI replied smoothly. "We just finished transporting supplies. It's ready for deployment."
"Good. Bring it here," Zack ordered. He grabbed a marker from the lab and began making visible marks on all the equipment and materials he needed. If this lab couldn't serve his purposes, he'd move everything to one of the empty Mansions in the community and set up a new base there.
While waiting Zack start checking up the place, a stack of documents on the laboratory table caught Zack's attention. He narrowed his eyes, curious. "Huh? What's this?" He walked over, picking up the topmost file. After flipping through the pages, his expression darkened. It was Dr. Samson's research data—detailed information on various human experiments. Among the papers was a slim, leather-bound diary with the doctor's handwritten notes.
[X Month XX, 20XX]
Today marks the seventh day of the virus outbreak. I came down with an inexplicable fever—40 degrees. It reminded me of when I was a child, burning up at Aunt Susan's house.
Thankfully, I survived.
Thank God!
[X Month XX, 20XX]
It's the ninth day.
I've noticed… something extraordinary about myself. I've awakened a hidden power—an atavism! I can transform into a werewolf within minutes, though the process is agonizing. But once I transform... I am unstoppable!
Thank God!
Zack's lips curled into a sneer as he read the entries. "So, the guy's a mutant. For a second, I thought he experimented on himself." He continued flipping through the diary, skipping mundane details of daily experiments, until he stumbled upon something that made his blood run cold.
[X Month XX, 20XX]
I'm losing my mind! These people are too frail. They can't even survive minor enhancements!
[X Month XX, 20XX]
Success at last! Experimental Subject-27 exhibits zombie-like traits while retaining human intelligence. Testing confirms that zombies won't attack Subject-27. I've done it! If I can pinpoint the mutation's cause, I can develop a serum that will allow humans and zombies to coexist peacefully! A Nobel Prize would surely be mine!
Zack slammed the diary shut, his face shadowed with rage. Now he understood. Dr. Samson's so-called "hope for mankind" was grotesque. The doctor wanted to transform every surviving human into a zombie—thinking, breathing zombies! For this twisted vision, at least twenty innocent people had died on his operating table.
Zack exhaled slowly, his voice chillingly calm. "I regret it, Ego. I shouldn't have killed him so quickly. I should've made him suffer until he begged for death."
Ego remained silent, sensing the weight of Zack's fury. Zack closed the file and tucked it under his arm. He had no intention of staying in this godforsaken lab a moment longer. As Zack reached the upper floor, he came across a tense scene. Dr. Samson's six surviving men were huddled together, trembling as they faced the transformed dancer.
Though "confrontation" seemed like the wrong word—it was clear the men were moments away from being torn apart. From the energy readings Ego had scanned, the dancer's transformation had elevated her strength to rival that of a Night Stalker. Against her, these six men stood no chance.
"Don't act rashly!" one of the men stammered, his voice cracking. "We're... we're under Master's protection! If you hurt us, he won't spare you!"
The group's bluff was painfully obvious. They didn't even know Zack's name, let alone have real protection. The dancer snarled, but she paused, her sharp claws retracting slightly. It seemed she understood their feeble words.
"Enough." Zack's cold voice broke the tension as he stepped into view. "You lot, head back downstairs and start moving the equipment I marked. Don't take the wrong things—or else." The six men froze. They exchanged nervous glances before nodding furiously. "Y-yes, sir! Right away!"
Without another word, they scrambled back into the lab, eager to avoid the dancer's wrath.
Zack turned to the towering figure beside him. Even at 1.8 meters tall, he had to crane his neck to look up at her. She loomed over him, more than 3 meters tall in her transformed state. "Want to kill them?" he asked bluntly, his tone flat.
The dancer hesitated, her glowing eyes flickering. Finally, she leaned down awkwardly to meet his gaze. "No… I don't want to."
It was an obvious lie. Zack could see the hatred simmering in her expression. But she knew these men were now under Zack's command, and she couldn't act on her desires. "Don't worry," Zack said softly, though his words carried a sharp edge. "They won't die easy."
The dancer's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing further.
Minutes later, a helicopter descended in front of the lab's gates. The six men worked quickly, loading crates of equipment and materials onto carts and hauling them to the aircraft. Before long, the helicopter's cargo hold was packed to the brim. "You lot, get in," Zack ordered, standing by the loading ramp.
The six men stared at him in confusion. "But… there's no room, sir."
"Do you need me to repeat myself?" Zack's voice dropped, cold and menacing.
"N-no, sir!" They stammered, scrambling to climb into the cramped hold. They squeezed themselves into the narrow gaps between the crates, their bodies pressed uncomfortably close. Every tiny movement caused another to groan in pain or gasp for air.
"Close the door," Zack commanded.