Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse

A soft mechanical hiss signaled the test chamber's seal locking into place. Red lights flickered above the heavy glass enclosure, bathing the control room in a subtle warning glow. Everyone stood still, breath held, as if the air itself understood the weight of what was about to happen.

Delgado stood closest to the touchscreen interface, gloved fingers tapping a final sequence.

"Incendiary unit primed. Targeting pod tissue sample Zeta-Three."

Inside the isolated chamber, the sample sat like a coiled knot of nerves. It didn't resemble any known lifeform—reddish-orange, semi-translucent, with vascular fibers twitching intermittently like something waiting for breath. Even though it had been separated from the main Bloom Nest, it still moved. Still pulsed.

Still... listened.

"On your command," Delgado said, eyes locked on Thomas.

Thomas nodded once. "Do it."

With a single confirmation tap, the test began.

A mechanical nozzle extended from the ceiling rig and pointed itself toward the pod's quivering mass. With a dull hiss, a jet of focused flame surged forward, bathing the biomass in fire.

At first, nothing happened.

Then the bloom writhed.

The tissue recoiled, flinching away as blisters formed across its membrane. Fibers curled and blackened under the heat. A shrill, high-frequency squeal echoed faintly within the chamber, forcing one of the younger technicians to flinch.

"Sound spike," someone called from the monitor. "Ultrasonic range. It's reacting."

Delgado leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. "It's not just reacting. It's screaming."

The fire continued for twenty seconds. Thirty.

Then, suddenly, the bloom twitched violently—and burst.

A wave of red vapor hissed from the ruptured tissue like smoke from dry ice, but denser. Heavier. The cloud pressed against the inner chamber glass, swirling in thick spirals. Within seconds, it painted the walls in a crimson hue, pulsing with bioluminescence like it was... alive.

"Pressure spike," another voice reported. "The vapor has mass. It's expanding."

"Seal integrity holding," Delgado said quickly. "Sample burned. But... not neutralized."

Phillip stepped closer to the glass. "What the hell is that?"

Delgado didn't answer right away. He was already pulling up atmospheric readings. "Vapor compound contains trace proteins. Same structure as the original biomass. It didn't die."

Thomas stared at the screen. "It transformed."

The chamber fell quiet again, the red mist lingering like blood smeared across a lens. Delgado signaled to one of the side benches. "Bring in the secondary test unit."

A robotic platform slid forward, carrying a metal cage. Inside was a white lab rat, awake and calm. It sniffed at the air, pink nose twitching.

"Open gate four. Let the vapor in."

There was a pause.

Then a faint click.

A compartment on the chamber wall opened, and the red mist began to flow—slow and purposeful—toward the cage. Within moments, it surrounded the rat. The animal twitched once, confused. Then again.

Then it screamed.

Not squealed—screamed.

Its body spasmed, front paws clawing at the metal grating beneath it. Muscles expanded grotesquely. Fur fell away in clumps. Within thirty seconds, its skin cracked like burned paper, revealing dark sinew beneath. One eye burst. The other glazed over with a milky film.

The rat collapsed.

Then, impossibly—it stood again.

No longer a rat.

Not really.

Its spine had elongated. Its limbs bent in unnatural angles. Blood dripped from its mouth, and it hissed through newly grown fangs.

"Test chamber integrity still stable," a technician whispered, as if speaking too loud might provoke it.

Delgado took a step back from the console. "It's—it's not just a mutagen. It's a resurrection agent. It rewrites dead or dying tissue and brings it back in a new format."

Phillip's eyes didn't leave the creature. "That thing is a rat?"

"It was," Delgado said grimly.

"Jesus Christ," Thomas muttered.

Delgado's hands trembled as he typed in a command. "Purging chamber. Fire and cryo together."

The test room flooded with flame and frost simultaneously. Steam poured out the chamber seams. When the vapor cleared, the creature was gone. What remained was a melted smear on the floor.

No one spoke for a moment.

Then Thomas exhaled slowly and turned to Delgado. "So it can't just survive destruction. It evolves through it."

Delgado nodded. "I've never seen anything like it. If these nests start pushing out red spores like this… every corpse it touches could come back as one of those things."

Phillip tapped his slate, syncing the footage to Thomas's private server. "We need to test if the full nest reacts the same way. Controlled site. Total saturation. Burn it from orbit if we have to."

Thomas nodded. "Prep it. Choose the smallest nest. I want Reaper coverage, fire support, and cryo payloads."

"I'll get Shadow Team ready," Phillip added.

Delgado swallowed hard. "Make sure you can get out fast. If this thing screams back at its parent, the whole metro might hear it."

Thomas looked at them both. "Then we'd better hope it dies quietly."

He turned and left the lab without another word.

Outside, the lights of the MOA Complex still shone bright.

But they all knew—

The war just changed.

And the next shot would be louder than any they'd fired before.

Phillip stood in the dim lab corridor for a long moment after Thomas left, the cooling systems humming faintly in the background. Behind the glass, the scorched remnants of the mutated rat were already being swept into containment by automated arms, but the sight lingered in his mind.

He'd fought through hordes of infected. Watched Crimson Dawn burn themselves alive in blind faith. But this—this was different.

This was evolution weaponized.

Delgado tapped a command on his console and spoke without turning. "We'll need an uplink. If the next test goes wrong, we'll need to vaporize the entire grid."

Phillip nodded slowly. "And if it goes right?"

Delgado looked up, tired eyes meeting his. "Then maybe, just maybe, we've found its limit."

Outside the sealed chamber, the red vapor still stained the glass.

The Bloom had screamed when it died.

And tomorrow, they would see if its hive screamed back.

Phillip turned away, his thoughts already on the next mission—on Shadow Team, on the payloads being loaded, and the towering Bloom Nest pulsing quietly in the heart of the metro.

They would strike first.

And hope it didn't strike back harder.