The deathly silence at the underground entrance was broken.
The dozen "Pathfinder" fodder survivors walked tremblingly through the long ramp. They stepped through the puddles, walked under the disguised Molotovs, and reached the inner blast door of the shelter unharmed.
"B-Boss! It's safe! No traps!"
One survivor turned back, waving a stick, shouting at the entrance. "The door is closed, but not locked (I left a crack intentionally)!"
In the distance, watching through binoculars, Black Shark finally cracked a savage grin.
"Hmph. Knew it."
He spat out his cigar. Eyes gleaming with greed. "That bitch Quinn is probably dead already, or shivering inside. Even if there were traps, the horde probably triggered them all."
In his eyes, this shelter was a stripped beauty waiting for him to ravage.
The brand new Land Rover Defender, tons of food, and the mystery man who killed his subordinates... all his.
"Brothers!"
Black Shark waved his hand, roaring. "Charge! Kill the men, keep the women! Tonight we feast inside! All-you-can-eat canned meat!"
"ROAR—!!!"
Dozens of thugs cheered like beasts.
Engines roared to life.
Two modified pickups led the charge, followed by eight dirt bikes. Like a swarm of hungry locusts kicking up dust, they rushed into the open maw of the beast.
...
Control Room.
I watched the fast-moving red dots on the monitor. My finger rested gently on the red [ACTIVATE] button. The plastic felt cool.
"They're in."
I said softly, calm as a game commentator. "First pickup in the zone... second one... bike squad all in..."
Quinn stood behind me, staring at the screen. Gripping the tactical dagger so hard her knuckles were white. Breathing fast. Eyes burning with the anticipation of revenge.
"Black Shark is in the second pickup." She pointed. "The one with the machine gun mount."
"Got him."
I watched the truck enter the middle section of the ramp—the center of the "Thunder Pool," where the water was deepest and five high-voltage traps were buried.
The Black Shark Gang had let their guard down.
They were whooping and hollering in the tunnel. Bikers were doing drifts in the puddles, splashing dirty water everywhere. They didn't notice the water had a faint metallic sheen near the tires.
"What a lively bunch of... corpses."
Shadow yawned next to me. Seemed bored by this one-sided slaughter.
"Almost there."
I watched the last motorcycle enter the ambush zone.
The entire convoy was jammed in this fifty-meter-long, two-lane narrow ramp. Blast door in front (fodder were pushing it), entrance behind.
Standard "Urn."
"Goodbye, neighbors."
My finger pressed down hard on the red button.
"ACTIVATE!"
...
Underground Tunnel.
The speeding thugs suddenly heard a strange sound.
VMMMM...
The teeth-aching, low-frequency hum of high current connecting.
Then, the lead biker felt a tingle in his crotch. Like a needle prick.
"What the..."
Before he could look down, the world turned blinding blue-white.
ZZZ-ZAP!!!
Five [High-Voltage Shock Traps (Modified)] buried under the water released terrifying energy simultaneously.
3000 Volts of high-voltage pulse traveled through the highly conductive sewage, instantly forming a web of death covering the entire tunnel floor.
"AAAAAHHHH!!!"
Screams were cut short, turning into eerie gurgles.
Vocal cords burned. Muscles locked in tetanic contraction.
The bikers suffered first. Metal frames were perfect conductors. They were riding electric chairs.
Some convulsed and fell into the water, instantly wrapped in stronger current. Bodies arched like shrimp, skin blackening, hair standing up.
Some gripped the handlebars, unable to let go because their hand muscles locked, until their eyes burst and blood flowed from every orifice.
"What's happening?! Reverse! Back up!"
The driver of the first pickup screamed in terror, trying to shift gears.
Too late.
Current traveled up the tires, through the chassis, into the cab.
Tires are insulators, but in this high voltage and humidity, the arcs jumped the rubber.
Crack!
Electronics shorted. Sparks flew. Driver and passenger convulsed on their seats, foaming at the mouth.
Second pickup.
Black Shark reacted the moment the current hit.
As an E-Rank Awakened, his danger sense was superhuman.
"Ability! Stone Skin!"
He roared. Skin turned grey-white instantly, like granite.
Zzzt!
Blue arcs hit him but were mostly blocked by the rock skin, leaving only scorch marks.
"Trap! Ambush! Everyone out! Get off the water!"
Fighting the numbness, Black Shark kicked the door open and jumped onto the hood—it was dry.
He looked at the hellscape around him: men rolling in water screaming, bike gas tanks exploding from short circuits, air filled with the smell of roast meat.
His eyes turned red.
"QUINN!!!"
He roared, voice deafening. "And that bastard hiding in the back! You dare set me up?!"
"Angry already?"
Suddenly, my indifferent voice came through the PA speakers on the walls (I fixed those too).
Distorted by static, echoing in the sealed space. Like a judge.
"Don't rush. That was the appetizer. Main course is coming."
"Shadow, do it."
On command, Shadow, hiding in the ventilation ducts above, slashed a few thin fishing lines with his claw.
Crash!
A dozen glass bottles suspended from the ceiling fell.
Filled with high-purity gasoline mixed with sugar and rubber crumbs—standard "Molotov Cocktail" recipe. Sticky. Hard to extinguish.
Smash! Smash! Smash!
Bottles broke on car roofs, on the ground, on people.
Yellow liquid splashed everywhere.
Sparks from the crashing bikes or the electric arcs ignited the vapor instantly.
WHOOSH!!!
A fire dragon roared to life in the narrow tunnel.
Fire swallowed everything.
"Ah! Fire! Fire!"
Survivors who weren't electrocuted yet became human torches. Screaming, running, trying to pat out the flames. But the sticky napalm clung to them like bone-eating maggots. The more they slapped, the more it burned.
Heat. Smoke. Electricity.
The fifty-meter tunnel became a literal hell.
Black Shark stood on the hood. [Stone Skin] resisted heat, but oxygen was being consumed fast. Smoke choked him. Coughing violently. Tears streaming.
"Damn! Damn it!"
He waved his arms, trying to clear the smoke. Useless.
Forty-eight elites. Gone in a minute. Half dead, half dying in the fire.
"Retreat! Retreat!"
Black Shark realized he kicked an iron plate. This wasn't a fat sheep. This was a crocodile with its mouth open!
He wanted to jump and run.
But then, a gust of wind blew away the smoke in front of him.
At the end of the tunnel, the pneumatic blast door opened slowly.
Two figures and a beast walked out, backlit by the fire.
Center: A young man (me) in clean casual clothes, holding a black Tang Dao, smiling faintly. Right: A massive golden Shiba Inu, eyes cold, mouth curling in mockery. Left...
A woman in camo fatigues.
Gripping a sharp tactical dagger. Eyes burning with hatred hotter than the fire around her.
"Black Shark. Long time no see."
Quinn's voice cut through the crackling flames, clear in Black Shark's ears.
"Didn't you want bait? How many zombies do you think this fire will attract?"
Black Shark froze.
He looked at the woman he discarded. Standing there like a goddess of vengeance.
"Quinn... you bitch! You colluded with outsiders to trap me!"
Black Shark roared, pulling his Type 92 pistol. Aimed.
Bang! Bang!
Two shots.
I didn't dodge.
Clang! Clang!
I waved the Tang Dao casually.
With [Agility +2] and [Dynamic Vision] (hidden perk of leveling up), I swatted the bullets away like flies. Sparks on the wall.
"Cutting bullets?!"
Black Shark's eyes almost popped out. What kind of monster is this?!
"Your aim sucks."
I walked toward the edge of the fire, pointing the sword at Shadow (who was on the roof of the truck to avoid the electric water).
"Black Shark, your brothers are dead. Now, it's your turn."
I turned to Quinn.
"He's yours."
"Thank you, Boss."
Quinn took a deep breath. Gripped the dagger. She didn't fear the fire. Didn't fear the man who used to terrify her.
Time for revenge.