Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse

The command center grew silent for a beat.

Marcus exchanged glances with one of the flight controllers, then keyed his mic. "Spectre, abort ground fire. Climb to safe altitude and await further orders."

"Copy, Command," came the reply. "Climbing out. Returning to overwatch pattern."

Thomas turned away from the screens, his jaw tight. He stared at the projected schematic of the Worm's layers, which now had a new anomaly blinking at the breached core. The bio-signature was unfamiliar—erratic, shifting. Alive.

"Get me real-time data on that thing," he barked.

Down in the lab, Dr. Calix was already ahead of him. She stood beside Luis, eyes glued to the new waveform dancing across the biosensor readings. Her face had lost all of its earlier confidence.

"This isn't a regenerative phase," she said slowly. "It's spawning."

Marcus looked up. "Spawning?"

"The Worm isn't dying—it's transitioning."

Thomas didn't flinch. "What's coming out of it?"

The holographic display updated with a pulsing, translucent chamber forming within the Worm's core. The new lifeform inside writhed against the walls—humanoid in shape, but grotesquely elongated. Its body shimmered with bioluminescence, veined with the same violet plasma that flowed through the Worm.

Phillip's voice came through the comms next.

"Command, this is Shadow 0-1. We've got visual on the interior structure. Something's inside the Worm. Roughly three meters tall. Humanoid silhouette. It's breaking free."

"Is it moving?" Thomas asked.

"Not yet," Phillip answered. "But it's breathing."

Breathing.

A word that somehow made the situation worse.

Marcus's voice cut in sharply. "Sir, whatever it is, it's generating a thermal bloom. Rapid growth. We're reading an internal spike of over 500°C localized to the new form."

Dr. Calix's eyes narrowed. "That's not gestation. That's ignition. It's building up internal plasma."

Thomas clenched his fists. "Then we can't wait. We finish what we started."

He strode over to the munitions screen. "Marcus, get me a full readout of remaining assets. What do we still have to throw at this thing?"

Marcus brought up the readiness display.

"Apaches are down to 40% ammo—enough for a single volley of thermobarics. Warthog One is re-arming but has another run in it. Spectre has four 105mm shells left, and two 40mm belts."

"How about ground artillery?" Thomas asked.

"We've got two Paladins mobile. HIMARS batteries are also in standby and all of them are within firing range."

"Fire control on all of it?" Thomas asked.

Marcus nodded. "Synced and ready."

"Good. Load everything."

"You want to dump it all now?"

"I want saturation fire," Thomas said. "We've breached the armor. That thing inside the Worm isn't armored. We kill it before it matures."

Marcus relayed the fire mission.

Inside the MOA Complex, armored treads rumbled to life.

Two M109 Paladins stationed behind reinforced barricades at the Mall of Asia lined up their barrels. HIMARS launchers unfolded and locked on to the Cubao grid. Nearby, the 155mm M777s parked along the elevated sections of elevated parking were dragged into firing position by growling JLTVs.

All of it was aimed at the beast in Cubao.

At the heart of that bleeding crater where something new was being born.

"Shadow Team, you are in the blast radius," Thomas called. "Pull your men back now."

"Negative," Phillip answered. "We're not leaving without eyes on target. We'll take cover. Just warn us when it's inbound."

Thomas gritted his teeth but didn't argue. "Fine. Marcus, give them a ten-second countdown once fire mission is launched."

"Yes, sir."

A few minutes later, the fire mission synced. Green lights flashed across the screen.

"Fire."

BOOM.

From MOA, the ground erupted in a staggered symphony of destruction.

Paladin 1 fired first—a thunderous boom that rocked the plaza as its 155mm shell arced into the sky. The HIMARS followed a heartbeat later, unleashing a swarm of guided rockets in perfect sequence. Each streaked across the sky like blazing arrows, descending with pinpoint accuracy on the bleeding Worm and its malformed offspring.

The sky turned crimson with fire and shrapnel.

M777 howitzers roared next, their shells whistling as they plunged into the smoking remains of the creature's core. Every impact was a miniature earthquake. The street beneath the Worm cratered violently, sending debris and gore flying in all directions. The flesh of the beast ignited, and from its ruptured veins burst fountains of bioluminescent plasma that splattered across surrounding buildings.

Inside the command center, Thomas stood unmoving as the monitors turned white from blast feedback. The audio feeds were drowned in a storm of static, flame, and concussive booms.

"Ten seconds," Marcus counted aloud, voice strained. "Nine… eight…"

Down on the ground, Shadow Team hunkered behind a shattered parking garage, visor feeds scrambled from the EMP surge, heat rising like an open furnace.

"Four… three…"

"Hold!" Phillip shouted to his men. "Hold—"

"Two… one—impact complete!"

And then… silence.

No growl.

No hum.

No pulse.

Thomas exhaled slowly and tapped the comms. "Shadow 0-1, status?"

Phillip's voice returned, breathless but steady. "We're alive… and it's not."

Around them, the crater sizzled with flame and steam. The cocoon had been obliterated—scattered in chunks of still-sizzling bio-mass. Whatever had been growing inside never had the chance to stand.

Phillip looked over the rim of the debris field, eyes narrowed beneath his helmet.

"There's nothing left but ash."

Thomas stood silent for a few long moments, his eyes locked onto the main screen. The image of the crater was grainy from static interference, but the lack of movement—of any pulse or glow—was more telling than the visuals. No electromagnetic surges. No thermal bloom. Just ash, smoke, and silence.

He finally exhaled, slowly, as if releasing the weight of an entire continent from his chest.

"Marcus," he said, voice level. "Confirm full damage report. I want every seismic, thermal, and atmospheric reading recorded."

"Already compiling," Marcus replied. "Shockwaves registered up to three kilometers out. Structural collapse in four blocks. No secondary life signatures detected near the breach. All indicators point to a full kill."

Thomas turned to the comms console and pressed the mic.

"Shadow 0-1, you have my respect," he said. "You and your men held the line."

Phillip's voice came back, a touch of tired pride bleeding through the radio static. "Wasn't just us. The whole damn Complex pulled it off. But I don't know if it's done already."

"We are going to confirm it stand-by."