Waking up in an apocalyptic world full of zombies was not what the person known as Christian thought would happen to him after a drunken binge. Trapped in this new world, he could only accept his bad luck and seek to survive at any cost, luck for which he obtained a system that allowed him to learn and create technological wonders.
Disclaimer: I do not own the material used in this fic.
If there was one thing everyone could agree on about Existence, whether they liked it or not, it was its most basic nature. An essence so simple and seemingly trivial that, despite its apparent simplicity, it had dictated the fundamental rules of everything that was, is, and will be.
Something so essential, so deeply ingrained in the foundations of reality, that it could be summed up in one tiny, almost insignificant word: Chaos.
Chaos, random and unpredictable, was not just a principle; it was the primordial force that governs the vast framework of Existence. A chaos simple in conception but immense in impact. It was through its disorderly dance that the known had taken shape, the unknown awaited revelation, and the unimaginable always had a potential place on the horizon.
In its seemingly purposeless nature, chaos had given rise to everything: from the stars shining in the firmament to the tiny particles vibrating in the void. Its randomness did not discriminate; it built and destroyed with the same absolute indifference.
Anything was possible. No matter how absurd, strange, or impossible something might seem, if the possibility existed, however minimal, it could always manifest in Existence without the slightest effort. That was the very essence of chaos: a logic that defied any human reasoning but, ironically, governed all that was, is, and will be.
Under this fundamental rule, reality functioned, sometimes bewilderingly, other times sublimely. And it was precisely this unpredictable logic that allowed the following place to exist in the first place.
A realm of chaos unfolded before the eye, a landscape that seemed to mock any attempt at definition. Changing and mutable were the words that best described it, though neither was sufficient to capture its true nature. Forms and colors united and crumbled in an incessant symphony of creation and destruction, a spectacle without pattern or prior warning.
It was an infinite dance, an endless process where the new was born only to be devoured by what came next. Some might call it art, others might consider it a nightmare. And yet, both would be correct.
If someone had to compare it to something to understand this place, it would be like looking through an eternal kaleidoscope, where every turn of the tube revealed a new and puzzling landscape of shapes and colors. But, unlike a kaleidoscope, there were no hands turning the mechanism here, no eyes observing from a distance. Only chaos existed in its pure state, without limits, without purpose, without end.
A good place to live, of course, as long as one found the idea of residing in an environment devoid of laws or concepts appealing, where things like space and time were mere ideas. A place populated by beings of such alien nature that even the most deformed and twisted minds of any known plane would fail to imagine their appearance or understand their behaviors and abilities. There, every corner was saturated with a strange energy, with properties as mutable and chaotic as the environment itself, a force that enveloped and transformed without warning.
The reasons to avoid that place were countless, an endless parade of warnings that turned the mere idea of considering it a home into a display of extreme madness. Even the inhabitants of the realm of chaos, born from its very essence and shaped by its whimsical nature, sometimes felt the desire to escape that oppressive reality. Remaining there was not a choice but an imposition of chance, and resignation was the only valid currency for survival.
In this realm, only the strongest, strangest, or outright bizarre could claim any right to existence. However, even among them, an undeniable truth persisted: their survival was not a result of their power or rarity but a fortunate turn of luck. Dwelling in chaos offered no guarantees, only the constant challenge of dealing with the impossible and the incomprehensible.
That is why the sight of a small, insignificant soul wandering carelessly through that realm was, at the very least, perplexing. An anomaly that, despite its strangeness, fit perfectly within the illogical logic of the chaos that dominated everything.
Its progress was slow, relaxed, almost carefree. It moved in all directions, whether in a straight line, in circles, or even defying any conventional sense of orientation, as if up and down were irrelevant concepts. Without direction or apparent destination, the only discernible pattern in its path was the act of continuing.
It didn't take a genius to interpret the scene. The erratic and disoriented movements of the soul were a clear reflection of its state. The word that best described its condition was "lost." Lost in a vast and hostile realm of chaos, advancing without purpose, trapped in endless drift, prey to the indifferent machinations of fate.
The situation remained unchanged for what seemed like an eternity. How much time had passed? It was a meaningless question in a realm where the laws of time and space were little more than mere suggestions. Perhaps it was a minute, an hour, a century, or a millennium. But, in the end, none of that mattered to the drifting soul. All that mattered was to keep moving.
Even when, by the inherent chaos of the place, it was teleported to random points within the realm, the soul did not stop. The endless cycle of its march continued. It didn't matter how many times chaos pushed it to a new beginning; the journey continued as if it were the only constant in its existence. Without direction, without purpose, only the blind impulse to move forward.
It was a cruel and desolate fate, condemned to wander without aim or goal. Simply to move, endlessly, while the same surreal and mutable landscape unfolded over and over before it.
A simple but cruel destiny. One where, no matter what it did, everything would remain the same. An eternal condemnation, whose resolution would never come—at least not by the soul's doing.
This was quickly demonstrated when, finally, through the very chaos that rules the place, the soul was granted the power to escape that destiny.
Before the soul, a breach opened, breaking the monotony of the eternal chaos. The breach, bright and overflowing with energy, took the shape of a lightning bolt, an arc of intense light pulsing with the wild ferocity of a savage heart.
For the first time in a long time, the soul stood still voluntarily and, with deadly calm, approached the breach. Its progress was slow and paranoid, like a wild animal placed in a habitat radically different from its origin and nature. Which might actually be the case, given the soul's characteristics were radically different from everything else in this place, at least from those originated here.
Stopping at the edge of the breach, the soul merely stood still. Hesitant, the soul didn't know what to do in such an unexpected situation, especially when most of its thoughts, if it even had any, were so simple and primitive.
The soul would have remained in that state for eternity if it were its decision. However, once again, chaos forced it out of its routine or, rather, the birth of one.
The breach, the only interruption in the soul's eternal cycle, began to close. Its pulsating energy dwindled bit by bit, the lights faded, and the lightning arc lost intensity.
For the first time in a long time, the power of choice lay with the soul, this time in the form of two simple decisions: stay behind and accept its fate of eternal wandering or leap into the unknown before the opportunity disappeared forever.
Both choices, simple in appearance, were laden with unfathomable implications. Would it choose the safety of the chaos it knew or risk everything for the uncertain promise of something different? Time was running out, and the breach, with its dwindling pulse, demanded an answer.
In the end, the decision did not take long. Driven by a mix of impulsiveness and the wild instinct that characterized a disoriented soul, it acted. There was no prolonged hesitation, no conscious reflection guiding its action, only the raw impulse to escape the endless cycle. It was a primitive reaction, the kind of decision someone familiar with the soul could have easily anticipated.
With no further thoughts holding it back and nothing to lose, the soul leaped into the breach, crossing it just as it was about to close.
And so, the fate of the drifting soul was sealed. What awaited it beyond that luminous and unknown opening? That was a mystery only Existence and its chaos could reveal. But if one thing was certain, whatever lay on the other side, it promised to break the monotony that had defined its existence until then.
So, I've decided to rewrite the first chapters of the fic. There's no clear reason why I did it, but I think it's to give a better idea of the things that will happen in the future, particularly regarding the body Christian inhabits, its past, who the body belongs to, his family, and other related matters.
As for the prologue, I thought the previous version was too short and somewhat simple, so I added more details, gave it more mystique, and corrected some errors.
In any case, any criticism or suggestions are always welcome. I appreciate you reading this and hope you enjoy it. Thank you for your attention.
Disclaimer: I do not own the material used in this fic.
Pain and disorientation. Those were the dominant sensations filling the being of the man known as Christian Mora. The pain was so intense it seemed to split his body in two. Fortunately, the agony lasted only for an instant. In that sense, he could consider himself lucky. However, the disorientation persisted.
He opened his eyes with annoyance, only to find himself looking at the image of a poorly lit alleyway illuminated by the faint nocturnal light of the moon. The place was a desolate sight: foul-smelling, littered with garbage, rotting flesh, and pools of blood.
For most people, waking up in a place like that would have caused concern or even panic. But for Christian, this was nothing more than a reminder of his occasional wild nights after a few beers. Moments when all logical restraints in his mind vanished, and his most authentic jerk-self emerged, the one that thought any idea—no matter how absurd or bizarre—was a great idea. Perhaps that was why waking up in a filthy alleyway, an abandoned building, or even a church didn't surprise him as much as it might have surprised anyone else.
Slowly and lazily, he began to lift himself from the wall where he had been leaning. Once he was fully standing, he let out a big yawn. The absence of any alcohol smell on his breath left him a bit confused at first, but he ignored it, reasoning that the lack of smell was due to his regular habit of taking mints to hide his drinking… although it rarely actually worked.
As his thoughts revolved around the absence of alcohol on his breath and the disorientation in his mind, a new thought formed, one that quickly put him on alert.
What was that thought?
The fact that he couldn't feel his wallet on him.
Quickly and frantically, Christian began searching for it. First, he rummaged through the pockets of his jacket, only to realize he wasn't even wearing one. Then he moved on to his pants pockets, checking over and over again as if enough insistence would miraculously make it appear. From afar, anyone watching would have thought he had squirrels in his pants… or that he was still completely drunk.
In the end, after an exhaustive and even ridiculous self-pat-down and bending down to inspect the ground in hopes that his wallet had fallen, the bitter reality became clear. Not only was his wallet gone, but he was also missing his phone, headphones, and house keys. In short, he had lost everything.
"Shit"
That was the only word that escaped his lips, laden with frustration. A simple word, but a sincere one—probably one of the most genuine expressions he had uttered in a long time.
In a situation like that, many people would have panicked. Losing all your belongings could unleash a torrent of emotions: hyperventilation, extreme anxiety, even a desperate attempt to find a solution. But Christian wasn't like most people. Instead, he simply let himself fall to the ground, right where he had woken up, and covered his face with both hands. A long, tired sigh escaped his lips.
"No, not again"
That was the reason he didn't feel the usual avalanche of emotions. Because for him, as a good Latino, being robbed of his belongings by the so-called motochorros in some places had almost become routine. An annoying, frustrating, but damnably and regrettably normal part of his life.
Releasing his face and recalling his psychologist's recommendations, Christian began taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. It was a simple but effective routine… or at least it was for him… sometimes.
Once he was calm enough, at least by his standards, he began evaluating his options in the current situation. After a moment of reflection, his possibilities were practically reduced to just one: figuring out where the hell he was and finding his way back home.
With those thoughts in mind, Christian glanced around in search of a way out of the alley.
The dim moonlight, though insufficient, allowed him to identify two possible exits: one to the right and one to the left. Each end was marked by something peculiar that immediately caught his attention.
Besides the faint moonlight, both paths seemed to have an additional source of light—a yellowish glow that flickered softly at the entrances. Something he immediately identified.
"Fire," He thought with curiosity and puzzlement.
Given that he found himself in an urban area, the presence of fire—one large enough to illuminate the entrances so significantly—could only mean two things. Either there was a massive outdoor community barbecue happening, or something was on fire.
This last detail was especially striking because if that were the case, a new and gigantic can of worms would open with it. One whose danger was entirely unknown to him and, therefore, something he wanted to avoid.
After getting up from the ground and reflecting on it for a moment, he decided to head toward the left exit. During the brief journey there, his mind began to clear, and he became surprisingly active and aware.
This caught him by surprise, especially considering the amount of alcohol he had consumed the previous night, which should have been more than enough to leave him with a tremendous migraine upon waking.
That was the first sign that something was wrong. The mere fact that he was in relatively good condition—well, mostly mentally. His body was still terribly weak, weaker than it had ever been in his life. Even worse than that time he had dengue. Which was surprising given the effects of that crap.
His weakness was so pronounced that every step toward the exit made him feel utterly exhausted. Christian thought that something strange was happening, a feeling reinforced by the fact that he couldn't see well in the dark—something he was already accustomed to due to his general activity schedule and his windowless room.
Another detail that raised alarms in Christian's mind wasn't the fact that everything was shrouded in darkness, with apparent fires illuminating in the distance, nor even the bloodstains and other fluids scattered on the alley floor. No, what truly unsettled him was the total absence of sound generated by humans or animals.
"Aren't they the same thing?" His consciousness asked with some amusement and curiosity.
"Not now" Was his simple response, and the voice went away.
Absolute silence surrounded him, broken only by the soft, cold wind that swept through the night—well, that and temporarily by his consciousness. The hairs on his body stood on end immediately, an instinctive alert response he had never experienced before. And this was surprising, considering he had grown up in a third-world Latin American country where muggings and tense situations were almost routine, especially at night and in scenarios like this.
From experience, he knew that absolute silence was far more terrifying than blood or lack of light. There was always noise, whether it was the distant murmur of people, the sounds of everyday life, or even cries of alarm. In situations like this, where the lack of light and the bloodstains would have caused a commotion, the sonic void felt unnatural.
However, there he was, surrounded by that overwhelming silence, with only his thoughts and a soundless void that seemed to absorb everything around him. Something was deeply wrong, and he knew it for certain.
So absorbed was he in his thoughts that he almost walked straight into a metal ladder attached to one of the buildings in the alley. He avoided it by a hair's breadth, the sudden shock snapping him out of his mind and throwing him back into cold reality.
As he approached the exit of the alley, new sounds began to reach his ears: the unmistakable crackle of fire, an intermittent hissing, and the characteristic popping of flames feeding on dry materials.
The confirmation that there was a fire in the area sent another chill down his spine. His steps became more cautious and quieter, trying to make as little noise as possible. This, fortunately, was made easier by the sneakers he was wearing—a detail that struck him as curious, as he was sure he hadn't been wearing them the previous night.
Once he reached the exit and leaned against the right wall to rest his weak body and hide in the shadows, the sight of the place before him was revealed, and that was when he knew things were very wrong.
To put it simply, the entire area looked like something out of an apocalyptic movie or series. Abandoned cars, some crashed into poles or each other were scattered along the street as if a stampede had left them in its chaotic wake. Bloodstains, both dried and fresh, covered stretches of the pavement.
The surrounding structures weren't in better shape. Many had broken windows, shards of glass scattered across the ground that glinted faintly under the flickering glow of the fires. Burn marks in the form of blackened smudges marred their surfaces, along with some holes in their structures, from which fire still poured in some cases. A clear indication of how those holes were formed.
Speaking of the fire itself, it was scattered in small blazes throughout the area. Whether in the cars, the buildings, the street itself, or even on... corpses.
What Christian initially thought were irregular shadows cast by the debris or the flickering light turned out to be corpses.
Some were partially consumed by flames, while others lay in grotesque positions as if they had fallen while trying to flee from something. Others, and undoubtedly the most curious, were partially or almost completely dismembered, or outright dismembered entirely.
The reason why they are the most striking among the corpses is due to their state of bodily destruction, one that, as far as Christian knows—both from personal experience and his human anatomy classes with cadavers—can only be inflicted by another living being, whether human or animal.
"Aren't they the same?" Christian's consciousness asked again, this time with mockery and amusement.
Ignoring it for now, Christian gave a few glances at the streets and behind him before starting to move uneasily and slowly toward the corpses. The reason he did this was to see if he could find anything useful—whether it be a clue about where the hell he was and what was happening, or something to defend himself with.
"This isn't an RPG, idiot," His consciousness said mockingly "Still, it might be useful... do it."
As he moved through the area, specifically along the right side of the street from the perspective of the alley he had come from, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Christian had to be thankful for two things. First, the fire and smoke in the area weren't intense enough to hinder his breathing or vision. And second, that in the time he'd been unconscious and until now, he hadn't attracted the attention of anything or anyone.
Stopping at one of the more intact corpses in the area, Christian gave a few more glances around, seeing nothing but corpses and debris, before crouching down and beginning to search the body. He wouldn't lie—he felt uncomfortable doing this—but it was the best he had at the moment. The only thing he regretted was not having gloves to avoid contaminating himself with who-knows-what.
The appearance of the corpse was that of a young adult male of average size, with dark hair and brown skin—or at least that's what it seemed like in the firelight. His eyes were closed. He was wearing a white shirt, dark blue jeans, and black shoes with white lines. His most distinctive feature, apart from the broken state of his body, was the metal rod currently piercing his chest, right through his heart.
Christian observed the angle of the body and the metal rod, trying to reconstruct the scene. "He must have fallen from above," He thought, his eyes moving toward the rooftops of the nearby buildings "Or someone stabbed him with this and left him here"
Both possibilities were unsettling, but there was no way to confirm either. Just in case, he scanned his surroundings again, looking for any signs of danger. Finding none, he returned to what he was doing.
The contents of the body were nothing special: just a wallet, a touchscreen phone of an unknown make and model, and a pair of wired headphones. Simple things that any modern human would carry.
Christian tilted his head from side to side as he pondered whether what he had just found was useful. Ultimately, he concluded that it was. He stuffed the phone and headphones into the front pockets of his pants—a reckless move, considering where they had come from. However, he decided that the risk was worth it, as he had no other means of communication with his family. With that settled, he turned his attention to the wallet.
"Let's see" He muttered as he adjusted his eyes to better see the contents, aided in part by the surrounding firelight. "A few crumpled dollars, a couple of credit cards from banks I don't recognize, an ID, and a U.S. driver's license. Not much, but useful"
Without overthinking it, he slipped the money into the back pocket of his pants. Christian figured it wouldn't hurt to have some cash in case he needed something—like food or a cab. Besides, he had already taken the phone and headphones, so if he ended up facing the police, he wouldn't be in a worse situation than he already was.
Once the money was secured, he took a moment to examine the IDs. This was more out of curiosity and to find out to whom the corpse he was looting had belonged, as well as for a possible clue about where the hell he was.
"Rico Franbouw, huh? Weird name. Twenty-three years old, date of birth" He began reading from the ID and driver's license, which essentially said the same thing, although the ID contained more details.
The information obtained from the ID wasn't particularly remarkable, other than confirming that the man appeared to be from Virginia. Everything else was pretty much useless, though at least it served as a mental exercise of sorts. It also reminded him of the fact that he wasn't wearing his glasses and yet could still see perfectly.
"This has to be a dream or something," he thought with a certain frustration at this realization, dragging his hand down his face to confirm if this was real. "And the worst part is, this would be the most normal one I've dreamed about to date."
"Hey, look on the bright side" His consciousness came back to bother him "Now you can appreciate the beauty of Black women without needing any help"
"Eh... good point" He agreed with his consciousness on that.
Finally, after reflecting for a while on the beauty of Black women, he began to stand up, intent on finding a place to rest his tired and weak body and to continue his search in the morning.
Normally, he would keep looking for clues about where he was and how to get back home. But given the overall darkness, the chaos of the area, the dangers—both direct and indirect—and the fact that his damn body was acting strange, he decided that rest was the best course of action for now.
However, those plans quickly fell apart. A peculiar and disturbing sound emerged beside him; a noise as strange as it was macabre. It was coming from the corpse.
Soft growls and moans escaped the body, though calling it a corpse might have been a poor description, as it was alive—something that seemed illogical given that a metal rod was currently piercing its body, and the body itself was somewhat mangled.
Moved by stupidity, curiosity, and partly by the idea that this was just a dream, Christian, instead of fleeing the scene, decided to stay.
The body, in an act defying all current human logic, growled and began to move. Its eyes darted back and forth as if possessed, finally stopping with its gaze fixed on Christian.
He wouldn't lie—such an action disturbed him quite a bit, causing his heart to beat harder, a reaction only amplified when he saw how the body started to rise from the ground slowly and awkwardly, yet strangely implacably and strongly, ignoring the logical fact of having a metal rod stuck in its chest and the obvious inconvenience—such as death.
"A zombie" His consciousness commented with a sort of indifference and boredom "Well, you were playing Resident Evil 4 Remake yesterday, so I guess it makes sense you'd dream about this... kill it"
Obeying what his consciousness said, and completely ignoring the unsettling calmness with which it had ordered him to kill, Christian lunged at the zombie. He didn't have enough strength to crush its head or a proper weapon, so he decided to grab the metal rod in its chest and use it as a weapon.
His hands, weak but determined, closed around the cold, rusty metal. The resistance from his prey was immediate. The zombie growled with a guttural sound, its mouth opening and its arms stretching out, trying to grab him and tear off a piece of flesh. The zombie's hunger was horrifying.
Christian responded by landing a strong kick to its stomach. The impact caused the creature to stagger back slightly, though it didn't fall to the ground as he had hoped, nor did it dislodge the rod from its body.
The zombie attacked again, and once more, Christian responded with a direct kick to the creature's stomach. This cycle repeated for several minutes, each blow draining more of his strength.
"Of course, this couldn't be like in the movies," he thought in despair and frustration. His breathing was a labored pant, sweat running down his forehead, mixing with the dust and grime of the area. "Ah, damn weak body, where's my adrenaline rush for the impossible battle?"
One more kick, then another, and three more followed the same pattern. Finally, in an unexpected and fortunate turn of events, the metal rod dislodged from the zombie's chest. The sound of metal tearing through flesh and bone filled the air, and both the creature and Christian fell heavily to the ground from the force of the pull.
The impact was rough, knocking the air out of his lungs for a moment. Dazed, he struggled against the disorientation, helped both by his survival instinct and the sounds of the zombie.
The zombie, unrelenting and without pain, began crawling toward him. Its clumsy hands clawed at the ground, and its jaw opened and closed in a grotesque attempt to reach flesh.
Christian took a deep breath, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his chest and the exhaustion clouding his thoughts. With what little strength he had left and using the rod as a crutch, he forced himself to stand, wobbling to his feet.
Once on his feet and faced with the imminent attack of the zombie before him, he had only one option.
Without thinking twice, he raised the rod above his head and brought it down forcefully on the creature's skull.
A dry, unpleasant sound echoed through the air. The first blow caused the zombie to pause for a moment, but it wasn't enough to finish it off.
"Don't stop!" His consciousness shouted, a cold yet urgent voice resounding in his mind.
Christian obeyed. Again and again, he raised the rod and brought it down with all the weight of his desperation. Each strike was accompanied by the sound of breaking, a crunch that echoed in the silence of the night.
The skull began to give way, its structure cracking under the metal and brute force. Dark, thick blood gushed out like a fountain, mingling with the remnants of flesh and bone.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the zombie's body fell still. Its head was now little more than an unrecognizable mass of flesh and bone.
Due to a lack of strength, Christian let the bloodied metal rod fall to the ground, the sound of metal striking concrete echoing through the area, and he collapsed to his knees. Deep, rapid breaths escaped his mouth, the sensation of being on the verge of fainting more present now than ever—and that was saying something, considering he'd once stayed awake for two days straight without the help of energy drinks or drugs to stave off sleep.
"This... doesn't feel... like a..." His thought was abruptly cut off when an uncontrollable nausea forced him to vomit. A mix of saliva, phlegm, blood, and other unknown substances spilled from his mouth, leaving an acidic, metallic aftertaste on his tongue. "Damn... why am I so weak?"
The answer never came; instead, there were only his tired, primitive gasps. So tired and weakened was he that any attempt to protect himself or fight at this moment had become a fantasy, and it was for that reason that what happened next occurred.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and as he slightly lifted his head, he became aware of the remnants of a giant shadow in front of him. Before he could even process what he was seeing, a guttural sound—a low, menacing growl—resonated behind him, causing his body to tense immediately.
Instinctively, and with the little strength regained from his extremely short and insufficient rest, he turned on himself. His left arm extended reflexively, an act of desperation and primal defense as if that movement could stop whatever was behind him. However, that simple action—born more of instinct than reason—was what marked the difference between life and death. Though, as with everything in life, it didn't come without a cost.
A zombie about to attack him was what greeted him as he turned, one that, with clumsy yet determined movements, lunged at him with the fierceness of a hungry predator. Instead of aiming for his neck or torso, as he had expected, the creature went directly for the closest piece of flesh—his outstretched hand.
The bite was brutal. A sharp, excruciating pain shot through his left hand as the zombie's teeth pierced his skin and flesh. Christian let out the loudest screams of his life, filled to the brim with panic, pain, fear, and other debilitating emotions.
The zombie didn't care in the slightest about Christian's screams. For the creature, only hunger and the insatiable need to devour existed. Its teeth sank into Christian's arm again and again, mercilessly tearing flesh and tissue. Three more bites pierced his skin before the young man's mind processed the horror and reacted, and two more followed before adrenaline flooded his system, giving him the strength to fight back.
With a cry of fury and pain, Christian lifted his right leg and delivered a strong kick directly to the zombie's chest. This time, the impact managed to separate it from its prey on the first attempt. The creature was flung backward, stumbling and falling clumsily onto the dirt- and rubble-covered ground.
A soft sigh of relief escaped Christian's lips, but it quickly vanished at the sight of his left arm and its current state. A new wave of terror coursed through his body. The zombie's final bite had torn out a large chunk of flesh, exposing the bone beneath and leaving fragments of shredded tissue visible. Blood gushed uncontrollably, staining his pants and dripping to the ground.
A dizzying sensation began to cloud his mind, one he had to crush with all his might. His teeth clenched so hard they nearly broke, a testament to his resolve. Given the current situation, such a luxury was not something he could afford—especially with the zombies beginning to rise again.
Weakened both physically (though not as much as before thanks to the adrenaline) and mentally, and now effectively missing a limb in all but name, only one option remained for him: flee.
Summoning all the remaining strength in his being, Christian sprang to his feet. The motion was too abrupt for his battered body. A sharp pang shot through his abdomen, and a small line of blood escaped his mouth, leaving a metallic taste on his tongue. In any case, once he was on his feet, he held his mangled arm against his body and began to run back to the alley where he had awoken.
The reasoning behind his decision was practical and direct: the stairs. He remembered there were metal emergency stairs attached to the wall in that alley—the kind used to climb to building rooftops. He wasn't sure if his body could manage to climb, especially with one arm rendered useless, but any option was better than facing those things again and being devoured...more than he already had been.
As he ran toward the alley, he noticed how the corpses that had previously laid motionless on the ground began to stir. Some trembled slightly, while others simply rose with a macabre slowness as if death itself commanded them. Even those whose bodies were engulfed in flames staggered forward, their eyes fixed on Christian. All of them began to advance toward him, slow and lifeless in pace, but unrelenting and firm.
All this did was heighten Christian's fear and panic, which, ironically, was beneficial as it served as a good distraction from the constant pain and exhaustion coursing through his body, as well as the noises surrounding him.
When he reached the alley entrance, he didn't hesitate for a second. Without looking back, he dashed into the darkness of the narrow passage. A mix of memory, and natural light, his eyes slightly adjusted to the dark, and pure luck allowed him to distinguish the shapes of his surroundings enough to see what he had come looking for: the stairs.
Anchored to the wall, was a typical metal emergency staircase—the same one he had nearly bumped into after waking up, and now his only hope. He recognized it immediately, and the sight of that firm, familiar structure drew a sigh of relief from him.
"Finally..." he gasped, his voice barely a whisper.
The relief was short-lived.
The moment he let out that exhalation was also the instant his mind, for a second, allowed itself to lower its guard. And in that moment, his perception sharpened. The sounds around him became clear.
Groans.
The dragging of feet against the ground.
The sound of flesh and bone moving irregularly.
They were coming from the other end of the alley.
His eyes focused on the direction the noises were coming from. His body froze for a second, as if instinct itself commanded him not to move. And then, he saw them.
Shadows.
Several figures approached from the other end of the alley, moving with that slow, eerie march he had already learned to fear. Some of them stumbled, while others walked with an unnatural stiffness, but all without exception heading toward his position.
His breathing became erratic. A cold chill ran down his spine, while beads of sweat rolled down his face. He was weak and trapped, unable to do anything except pick up his pace. It cost him small threads of blood escaping his mouth and forced him to let his mangled arm hang loose. The pain of the air brushing against his exposed arm was a strange blessing—it helped keep him awake.
Once at the stairs, he quickly grabbed onto the rungs and began to climb. The process was excruciatingly difficult given his injured left arm and his severely weakened state, which caused him to nearly fall off about ten times. Such a fall would have killed him regardless of the height, mostly due to the horde of zombies now beneath him, screaming and growling like animals. By this point, it was clear that the only thing keeping him going was the fear, pain, and adrenaline coursing through his body.
When he finally reached the top of the stairs and moved far enough onto the roof, he let himself collapse onto his back with a dull thud. His entire body felt heavy, as if he had been carrying an immense weight for hours.
Rapid, labored breaths escaped his mouth. His chest rose and fell violently, each inhale feeling like fire burning in his lungs. His heart pounded so hard it seemed as if it might burst from his chest at any moment.
The pain quickly reclaimed his body. A torrent of sharp, searing, and stabbing sensations spread through every muscle, joint, and nerve. His left arm—or what remained of it—demanded most of his attention. The torn flesh throbbed with every heartbeat, each movement sending waves of agony to his brain.
"Shit...shit," he panted between breaths, his throat dry and raspy. His gaze fell on his arm with evident concern.
Christian knew he would die if he didn't stop the bleeding. His basic first aid knowledge was enough to understand the severity of the situation. The amount of blood he had lost was not something his body could endure for much longer.
Using the last of his strength, he began to remove his belt. The process was clumsy and slow, aggravated by the fact that he had only one functional hand. His right hand tugged roughly at the buckle, while his injured arm trembled uncontrollably. The constant, sharp, and stabbing pain clouded his focus, but he couldn't afford the luxury of stopping.
The buckle finally gave way, and the belt slid out of the loops of his pants, helped in part by the moisture from his sweat and blood. With the strap in hand, he wrapped it around the base of his arm. Using the buckle as an anchor point, he pulled with all his strength to tighten the tourniquet. The leather creaked under the pressure, and the flesh of his arm compressed, causing unbearable pain that made his entire body arch.
"AAARRGH! Damn it!" he screamed, his face contorted in agony.
The seconds that followed seemed eternal, but finally, the bleeding began to subside. The blood no longer gushed out with the same intensity; it now dripped intermittently. Christian breathed heavily, his face drenched in sweat and tears that mixed with the dirt on his cheeks.
The adrenaline that had kept him on his feet finally ran out. The sensation of artificial vigor faded, and with it, all the strength he had left. Every muscle in his body burned with an intense, searing pain, as if even the act of existing cost him energy. He could no longer move, nor did he want to.
With heavy eyes, his gaze fixed on the night sky—a vast black canvas dotted with tiny white stars, cold and distant, but somehow comforting. There was something in that vastness, something that, without knowing why, gave him a slight sense of solace. A good thing, given that there was nothing to distract him from the growls of the zombies and the whistling air.
"What the hell am I going to do?" he asked the air. His voice sounded simple and empty, devoid of strength, as if every word weighed a ton on his tongue.
"Rest for now," his conscience replied with a calmness that seemed almost mocking. "Then we'll figure out how to treat that arm… if it's even possible."
Christian let out a dry, bitter laugh. It wasn't a laugh of amusement but a mix of irony and resignation. He lowered his gaze to his left arm—or what was left of it. The skin was beginning to pale around the wound. The blood flow was almost controlled, but the damage was already done.
"The damn thing's nearly split in half," he murmured coldly, his eyes narrowed, devoid of emotion beyond pain.
He observed intently the torn flesh, the exposed muscles, and the partially visible bone. It wasn't the first time he'd seen such a wound, but it had never been his own flesh that was broken.
"And that's not to mention that, depending on the type of zombie that bit me, I'm already infected," he continued in the same cold voice. His tone was neither fearful nor panicked, but one of crude and brutal acceptance. "Which means that no matter what I do, I'll die and come back as one of those bastards."
"What a thing," his conscience responded with a mix of sincerity, indifference, and boredom. "Too bad now you'll never get to be with a black girl... tough luck."
"Don't remind me," he replied with all the sadness in his heart. He really wanted to be with a black girl.
However, beyond that tremendously important fact and the probability that he would die only to later turn into a mindless, soulless zombie wandering around in search of human flesh for who knows how long, what truly shattered him was the idea of what that would mean for the people he loved.
His mother. His sisters. His grandmother. His cousins. His dog. All of them paraded through his mind, one after another, as if his memories were being projected onto the screen of the night sky. The laughter, the silly fights, the unexpected hugs. His heart clenched with pain.
"What are they doing now?" he wondered, unable to control the tide of emotions overwhelming him.
Multiple ideas and answers arose in Christian's mind to the question. Some of those ideas were comforting, imagining them defending themselves well against the apocalypse, barricaded and safe in their home, with a good supply of food and people to survive as long as possible. Most of the ideas, however, pictured them not making it—having been bitten and turned into zombies, or simply devoured. In moments like these, Christian hated his natural pessimism, which had always saved him from bad situations.
"God, if you're going to give me thoughts and ideas about my family turning into zombies or being torn apart and devoured, at least give me something to fight against that."
A simple request—more of a complaint and delirium from a dying man. One that he didn't believe for a second would actually be answered. Yet it was, in a very strange way overall.
At first, he thought he was hallucinating. Maybe the lack of oxygen in his brain was playing tricks on him. But what was before his eyes didn't fade, even when he blinked or rubbed his eyes.
It was text.
A text floating in the air, clear as water, bright as a neon screen.
By the grace of Chaos and Randomness, you are congratulated for surviving such a dangerous situation, as a reward for your efforts, a gift has been given to you.
By the grace of Chaos and Randomness, you have been blessed with the tools, knowledge and skills to create fantastic and unimaginable things, even if they technically violate the laws of the universe in which you are.
These words appeared in Christian's vision, a look of pure disbelief forming on his face at the sight.
"What the hell?"
As a gesture given by the grace of Chaos and Randomness, a total of 8000 CP has been granted to you, for enjoyment and survival.
The confusion remained firmly in Christian's mind, unable to pinpoint exactly what was happening. His physical and mental state only reinforced this sense of unreality, something completely understandable given the circumstances.
He stayed in that state for quite a while before the words registered in his head and a cascade of memories presented themselves in his mind—a cascade of memories of a certain type of fanfic that he found quite entertaining. Unfortunately, these were fanfics that almost never got completed or finished.
Celestial Forge.
A type of fanfic where the protagonist received a "celestial forge," an absurd and incredible power system that allowed them to learn technologies, magic, or a combination of both from various fictional universes.
A silly and strange smile formed on his face at the recognition of that fact. It wasn't a smile of happiness but a mix of astonishment, disbelief, and a hint of poorly concealed excitement, which was good for momentarily ignoring the pain in his body. The smile disappeared abruptly, however, when his pessimism reminded him that obtaining this only meant his life was about to get far more complicated.
Whether it was due to the future appearance of world-ending threats like the zombies and their potential evolutions/mutations—if it was that kind of virus—aliens, demons, and angels, universal chaotic events, or, if things were truly dire, another person or persons with the same power as him who, for whatever reason, had decided to make the destruction of humanity their goal.
"That's actually a good theory for why there are zombies," his conscience commented in a thoughtful tone. "Given the blatant violation of the laws of physics and biology that those things are, I find it plausible."
"Ah, crap…" he blurted out suddenly, his eyes widening. "Of course, you had to give me those ideas now, you bastard, while I'm bleeding out and in pain!"
"Hey, you say 'thank you,' your ungrateful bastard" His conscience replied in annoyance. "Now stop being a lazy weakling and find something in that thing to help you survive and get yourself a black girl."
Reluctantly accepting and momentarily setting aside his growing paranoia, as well as the fact that he was screwed no matter what, he obeyed the order. Both for survival and because of his desire to be with a black girl.
"Ugh… How do you access the store in this thing?" He thought tiredly and painfully "Uh… 'Store'?"
Instantly, a large variety of text appeared before him, seemingly organized in a sort of PDF format, apparently divided into a wide variety of categories. From the most mundane to those of a more mystical nature. With each paragraph he skimmed through, curiosity spread through him like syphilis. However, given his physical and mental state, he had to quickly skim through the text to find solutions to his current problems.
Solutions he finally found in the text—simple in themselves and their words, but essential to keeping him alive in the short term and perhaps, who knows, getting himself a black girl.
--- Domain: Assistants ---
-Assistants (Warhammer 40k - Adeptus Mechanicus) (0CP)
Choose: a dozen servoskulls, a team of five servitors, or a trio of custom cherubim. All are dull but reliable servants and come equipped for a variety of tasks. The patterns of each are easy to readjust for more specialized work.
Types: Medicaeskull (x3), Sensorskull (x3), Monotaskskull (x6).
-Canoptek Spyder (Necron) (400CP)
Not all troops in the Necron arsenal were once Necrontyr. The Canoptek constructs have the distinction of being entirely robotic in nature. One of the most important constructs is the Canoptek Spyder, designed to monitor Necron tombs while their inhabitant's sleep. To aid in this purpose, Canoptek Spyders can create swarms of Canoptek Scarabs and direct them toward intruders, shredding them before they have the chance to scream. Additionally, they can repair Necrons that are damaged beyond the repair capabilities of Necrodermis.
--- Domain: Time ---
-Seed of Singularity (Generic Cyberpunk) (600CP)
They say the future begins with an idea, but that's not true. It begins when you make an idea a reality. You are not someone who is content with manipulating existing technology; you are one of those minds that could destroy everything we thought we knew. Your capacity to innovate and invent is astounding—you can do years of work in just a few months. What you assemble in your lab to test a concept would count as a production model for anyone else, and your real final designs are nothing short of pure brilliance. This applies equally to actual discovery, which passes through testing and examination at an incredible speed. Your work alone could build the entire future if you had the resources—and if you could survive the people who would kill for the things you can create.
--- Domain: Toolsets: Mundane ---
-Cranial Implants (Warhammer 40k: Adeptus Mechanicus) (100CP)
The brain of every magos undergoes extensive modifications over time, but you have taken great care in preparing your mind for the mysteries of the Machine God. Beyond the genetic alterations and bionic subsystems that have increased your intelligence, regulated neurochemistry reduces the influence that hunger, pain, fear, and other carnal distractions can have on your thoughts. Your capacity to enjoy these things is not hindered. It will be faster and easier to adapt to additional neurological modifications with less concern about rejection.
--- Domain: Facilities: Mundane ---
-Augmentation Suite (Generic Cyberpunk) (400CP)
Not everyone can build a better future, but advancing technology has made it more than possible to build a better man. These tools include everything necessary to maintain, repair, construct, and even design or install almost any imaginable implant or cybernetic device. Of particular interest are the high-level fabrication capabilities that allow you to assemble such devices in mere minutes or hours, enabling you to respond to your needs on the fly. An installation suite includes the medically sterile space required for even the most complicated or delicate operation and all the necessary tools. Whether you're setting up a professional shop or servicing shadier types from the back of an expanded bus for dirty money, you have everything you need or could want. You may choose to have all of this connected to or fused with your warehouse. Everything replenishes and restores in a day if destroyed, and you have an unlimited supply of materials, except for truly extraordinary items that require you to source them yourself.
--- Domain: Databases: Mundane ---
-Antibody Creation (Cells at Work) (400CP)
Preparation is key to victory, and now you can prepare a solution for any enemy you face—at least a solution in the chemical sense. You now know how to synthesize a special liquid that can be tuned to a specific enemy, acting as an acid on them when exposed. You can modulate the potent effect it has, from dissolving them entirely to simply causing burns and even targeting just their clothing and equipment. This liquid takes some time to produce, usually between half an hour to an hour, but it can take much less time if you have access to DNA or other similar chemical identifiers. With time and experimentation, you'll be able to discover how to achieve effects other than acid, such as knocking them unconscious or sealing their abilities temporarily.
Prefabricated Solutions (with Lucky Defender): You now have the ability to create special "blank" solutions, which are apparently not attuned to any specific enemy. However, when you carry these "blank" solutions and face a surprise enemy, you'll find they are specially adapted to that enemy. You'll need to create more "blank" solutions afterward, as all previously created "blanks" will have been attuned specifically to that surprise enemy.
--- Domain: Knowledge: Skills and Expertise ---
-Hand of the Matrix (Generic Cyberpunk) (400CP)
Videos are filled with stories of brave hackers capable of performing magic with the seas of code drowning society. However, you are not one of them—you're one of those who give megacorporations reasons to be nervous. Your understanding and mastery of code are enough to design programs that would draw attention, crack systems into which those in power pour mountains of money to keep secure, and quickly eliminate almost any opposition. If someone knows about your skills, whether as a digital boogeyman or a name, people are willing to go to great lengths to have you on their side. The software you could create and the tricks you could perform are almost unmatched. It would take an equal or a megacorporation to challenge you. Only something like an advanced AI could claim superiority over you when it comes to code.
--- Domain: Knowledge: Future Technology ---
-Wisdom of the Ancients (Warhammer 40k - Necron - SB Edition) (600CP)
Necron technology surpasses all others; it is comparable to the greatest sorceries of organics. Changing the molecular composition of objects with specific sound waves, spreading madness through enemy ranks with swirling mists, and manipulating time itself are just a few examples. The true heights reach incredible levels, things that violate all laws of nature and logic. It would take a truly brilliant mind to master all this technology, understand it, and improve it—a mind like yours, for example. You have the skills and raw intelligence necessary to unravel the finest and most advanced technologies of your species. Not only can you build and perfectly repair Necron technology, but you can also adapt it for all sorts of purposes, create new technology on a similar level, and even improve it. This talent will also extend to all forms of technology in future jumps.
--- Domain: Preparation: Biotechnology ---
-Man and Machine (Generic Cyberpunk) (400CP)
The line between the two may be blurred in this world, but an engineer with your skills can make it disappear. You are a genius in all forms of cybernetics, capable of designing, building, repairing, and even deploying them with expert skill. Beyond simply making the body accept these additions as if they were natural parts, if new at all, your expertise allows you to work on and design implants and devices capable of all sorts of things. From built-in camouflage systems to dermal armor capable of deflecting and ignoring military-grade weapon fire, dash systems, defensive fields, weapons, and much more—you could turn anyone into a walking example of post-humanity if you had the resources. Your talent in this field ensures you'll be able to adapt any of your technologies into some form of useful cybernetics. Who knows where you'll end up in the field as time goes on.
--- Domain: Quality: Efficiency ---
-Transhuman Protocols (Generic Cyberpunk) (600CP)
The things we could do if every advance weren't plagued with hidden dangers and unseen consequences. If they're smart, they'll listen to you. You can take any technology or procedure you understand and easily uncover the flaws, pitfalls, drawbacks, and unwanted or negative side effects—and as long as you take the necessary time, you'll figure out how to overcome them. Whether its ensuring cybernetic augmentations don't result in lethal body rejection, that a genetic modification doesn't cause the body to devour itself from the inside out with cancer, or that a mind-transfer device leaves the same person who entered and not just a copy, or simply solving the problems of something—you'll find the way. The future is an uphill battle, and you won't have time to achieve it if you spend it stumbling.
--- Domain: Quality: Security ---
-Black Boxing (Warhammer 40k - Squats) (200CP)
Though it's annoying that certain red-robed rats from Mars always try to stick their filthy mechadendrites into your stuff, messing with them is infinitely entertaining. You can easily modify your work to make it nearly impossible for others to duplicate. If you feel particularly vindictive, you can create some cross-connections so that anyone who tries will explode.
--- Domain: Quality: Size ---
-Miniaturization/Efficiency (Worm) (400CP)
You can miniaturize anything to levels any sane man would consider impossible. A fusion reactor the size of a watch battery would be the absolute minimum of what you're capable of, and you could make it much smaller than that. Your power also makes you a master of technological efficiency—anything you create will require barely any energy to function compared to what it should and will continue functioning for a long time. These specialties also make you a master of nanotechnology and similar activities. Of course, you're not forbidden from building something big like a giant robot—it'll just be impossibly efficient and packed with more weapons and subsystems than should be possible.
Christian observed with seriousness and scrutiny the long, redundant, and almost life-wasting shopping list in front of him. His eyes scanned the chosen options, with the idea of determining what to change before finally nodding in confirmation of his hasty selections.
Since he didn't know if he was racing against time before dying from the infection and turning into a zombie (if the virus transmitted and worked that way), he really wanted to do this as quickly as possible.
"Buy."
As soon as that word crossed his mind, the world became pain—pain beyond anything in this world.
"AAAAAGH!" A bloodcurdling scream escaped his throat before he could stop it.
An inhuman headache exploded within his skull; unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was as if his mind was being crushed from all directions and dimensions, an unbearable pressure growing more intense and agonizing by the second. His brain and mind burned; every thought was a spark igniting a bonfire, every heartbeat an explosion inside his head.
"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" He gasped through gritted teeth, his face contorted in anguish.
His eyes clenched shut from the pain, nearly sewn together, and he brought his remaining hand to his head, clutching his skull so tightly his nails dug into his skin. He felt like his head might explode at any moment, and part of him truly believed it might.
Blood began to flow again from his nose and mouth, the red droplets slowly revitalizing the half-dried rivers of blood on his face. His ears also bled, creating new rivers of blood along the sides of his head. This was accompanied by a faint deafness, preventing him from hearing anything other than his own heart pounding with ferocity.
The pain lasted a mere ten seconds—the most eternal ten seconds of his life. Yet, as crazy as it sounded, he was willing to endure it again if what he was gaining from it was real.
Suddenly, strange and incredibly bizarre information flooded Christian's mind. It was a torrent of data detailing not only the way to create the technologies he had chosen but also the functioning of the technology integrated into his flesh. It was pure, raw, and immediate knowledge, as if it had always been there but had only now been unlocked.
The sensation was so strange that he almost ignored the fact that the pain, hunger, fear, panic, paranoia, and other unpleasant emotions had become nearly nonexistent. Of course, his body was still suffering the consequences, but at least this state afforded him the tranquility he desperately needed—besides, of course, relieving him of hellish pain. For this, he was thankful he had purchased the Cranial Implants.
As he slowly opened his eyes, the presence of multiple shadows—one gigantic and twelve smaller ones—made him happy, specifically because he was relieved this Celestial Forge thing was actually real and not the product of blood loss, psychosis, or possible virus infection. The lack of unpleasant sensations and emotions didn't count, given that it could very well have been his mind pushed to its limits and entering rest mode.
The Servoskulls and the Canoptek Spyder floated around him. A series of small, strange sounds emanated from them—soft, metallic, and alive. Those are good descriptions of these sounds, oddly comforting in a way he never thought they would be. Their gazes were fixed on him.
If there was one word to describe their appearance, that word would be "magnificent." Whether it was the simplicity, spirituality, and brutality of multiple floating skulls adorned with a series of scrolls called "Purity Seals," each equipped with tools depending on its type—whether for general tasks like serving as a medic or radar—or the mechanical, cold, and alien nature of an obsidian-black mechanical spider that seemed to absorb light. The spider had several green points on various parts of its body, the most prominent being the one behind its head, which appeared to be its main reactor.
"Beautiful…" he whispered with a mix of admiration and joy, his face reflecting absolute happiness and pain.
The Servoskulls and Spyder slightly inclined toward him, expectantly awaiting his recognition and orders.
"They act like dogs" His consciousness commented with a hint of curiosity and sarcasm. Christian didn't respond—he had better things to do.
Thanks to the new knowledge in his head, Christian knew they were programmed to follow his orders to the letter.
These orders could be transmitted in two ways: physical means—through his voice, regardless of the language spoken—or mental means, by creating a mental network that connected them directly to his mind. This connection would be made wirelessly, either through cybernetics in his head or directly to his brain. Both options were generally good, though not without flaws.
Both methods had their advantages and disadvantages. Vocal commands were simple to use, but the inherent imprecision of spoken language could lead to misunderstandings or interpretation errors, especially in stressful or dangerous situations. On the other hand, the mental network provided a direct, precise, and silent connection, ideal for remaining unnoticed. However, the associated risk was much higher. A direct brain connection, whether natural or cybernetic, carried the possibility of external "hacking" or, in the worst case, neural overload, which could completely fry his brain.
Finally, after a very brief deliberation, he chose the second method, mainly because he already had the cybernetics for it, the benefit/advantage of issuing orders without making a sound, and the long-term potential for higher-caliber operations, such as building a base or creating an army of robots.
With that in mind, Christian sent a command to his implants to connect to the Servoskulls and the Spyder's signals.
[Connect]
The process was almost imperceptible. He felt no pain or discomfort, just a strange sensation of "fusion" at the back of his head, where the cybernetic implants integrated into the mental network. In an instant, the Servoskulls and the Spyder became more than just advanced, floating machines. They became extensions of his own will.
There were no sparks, no flashes of energy, no exaggerated activation sounds—just silence. The kind of silence that settles when a predator hides and observes its prey. A silence under control.
Not even a second passed before voices resounded in Christian's head—the voices of the beings he had purchased and brought into this world.
[Status: subroutines on standby. Input command.] A chimera of cold, metallic, and extremely alive voices spoke to him. From their tone and words, he deduced it was the Skulls, which had apparently decided to speak as one.
[Primary Supervisor detected. Priority established. Orders required.] Another voice sounded in his head, this one even more metallic, alien, and oddly polite. The Spyder, for obvious reasons.
Having established that the newly created network apparently worked and that his abilities to detect problems did not trigger any alarms, Christian deemed it was time to act.
[Orders: Medicae Servoskulls, you are ordered to analyze my body, present the data, amputate my left arm, and heal the body as much as possible. Sensor and Monotask Servoskulls, you are ordered to monitor and defend the current area, except for one of the Sensors, which will remain with me. Canoptek Spyder, you are ordered to commence production of one hundred Scarabs and defend yourself in case of attack. Designated location: the entire roof of the building.]
The orders were transmitted, and with the precision and efficiency only machines could offer, the mechanical servants began to move to fulfill them. The Servoskulls divided into groups. The Medicae and one of the Sensors began descending toward him, while the remaining two split into pairs, distributed across the building, and started patrolling. The Canoptek Spyder, for its part, moved fluidly and effortlessly, like a stalking shadow, positioning itself in the safest area of the zone, away from Christian's sight, while beginning the production of Scarabs.
Once the Medicae Skulls were within reach, Christian observed with extreme curiosity how they each took a position over his body: head, torso, and legs. Red lights emanated from the skulls' optics, bathing his body in light. Christian felt nothing during the process—whether due to his implants or because the procedure was painless.
[Preliminary analysis complete. Multiple lacerations. Significant blood loss. Medium failure of major and minor organs. Strange infection detected in the organism; inactive strain in the brain, active strain in the left arm and its connection to the torso. General condition: critical but stable. Recommendation: amputate the limb infected with the active strain.] Reported the Medicae Servoskull positioned over his torso with the same cold, metallic, and strangely lifelike voice.
"Infection... of course there's an infection," he thought with some disdain. It wasn't necessary to be told, but the confirmation from a machine always added a layer of objective certainty that was hard to ignore.
[Amputation protocol initiated. Confirmation required.] The skull on his torso spoke.
[Authorized. Proceed immediately,] He responded without hesitation.
The Servoskulls moved from their positions and directed themselves toward Christian's left arm. Two positioned themselves on either side of his arm, while another projected a blue light outlining the cutting area, located at the junction of the arm and torso. Mechanical arms emerged from their sides, equipped with clamps, precision surgical saws, cauterization devices, and a low-quality medical pack in the form of syringes.
The sound of the saw vibrated in his ears, and Christian watched as it began to descend toward his flesh with an inhuman calm. A sharp, high-pitched metallic screech filled the air as the blade cut through skin, muscle, and bone with surgical efficiency. There were no screams or struggles. The implants in his body released a surge of nerve inhibitors, blocking any possibility of pain. Even so, he felt the pressure and movement. He felt the absence.
When the arm was severed, the Servoskulls worked quickly. The syringes pierced his flesh, injecting a cocktail of drugs, adrenaline, coagulants, and other substances into his system. Additionally, the cauterizers sealed the wound instantly, burning the open flesh with a hiss that filled the room with the smell of charred meat. While the coagulants could have sealed it, they would have taken too much time—time Christian didn't want to waste.
[Amputation complete. Subject's condition: acceptable. Recommendation: graft a cybernetic arm to restore functionality and replenish fluids,] the Medicae Servoskull reported before retreating with the other Medicae units, withdrawing the needles from his flesh.
[Understood. Orders: lift me from the ground.] A command issued by him, and the Skulls quickly moved to his shoulders, using their limbs as supports, beginning to lift Christian from the floor.
The process was slow and methodical—a necessary precaution given Christian's physical condition. His exhausted and worn body couldn't have withstood a more abrupt effort. Once he was fully upright, the Spyder's voice resonated in his head, delivering news that delighted Christian.
[Production of Scarabs complete. Releasing them to the exterior.]
Christian's head instinctively turned toward the Spyder, observing how the machine rose slightly into the air to achieve a favorable position between him and the roof.
A series of compartments opened at the bottom of the Spyder, revealing its internal mechanism—a system far beyond anything modern humanity could create. However, what truly captured Christian's attention was what emerged from its interior.
From the compartments poured an avalanche of Scarabs—mechanical creatures shaped like beetles, each approximately the size of a human adult's head. Their bodies were composed of plates made of Living Metal, a dark, smooth, and lustrous material capable of self-repair, typical of Necron technology. The front part of each Scarab was equipped with an "eye" or "sensor" emitting a bright green energy glow, pulsing intermittently with their movements. They had multiple legs, appearing thin but strong, which made sense given their abilities in flaying, climbing surfaces, recycling, and other functions.
The Scarabs poured out of the Spyder in a torrent, a tide of metallic insects dispersing with precision and purpose. The wave of Scarabs slid across the floor, climbed the walls, and spread into every corner of the structure. They didn't stop there. The swarms extended toward the roofs of neighboring buildings, covering every available surface.
[Scarabs released. Creating connection with the network... Connection established, transmitting general data. Awaiting orders.]
New connections and data appeared in Christian's mind, all related to the Scarabs—simple things, mostly. Their general status, location, capabilities, energy levels, resources, and so forth. After reviewing all this information, he quickly sent a message to the Sensor and Monotask Skulls to see if they had detected anything.
[Report: Multiple cadaveric beings of human origin infected by the same unknown pathogen present in the Magus' body detected nearby. Recommendation: Total extermination of the beings.]
Christian sighed and rolled his eyes at the suggestion. It was no surprise that the Skulls recommended extermination as the primary solution, especially considering their creators, programming, and pragmatism. Simple but effective... perhaps.
[Understood. Orders: Monotask, withdraw from surveillance, and follow me. Also, retrieve my amputated limb.] Christian gave the order, and the Monotask Servoskulls responded immediately, moving in his direction with the mechanical hum of their anti-gravity motor. One of them stopped and descended to pick up the amputated limb with its metallic pincers. His attention then turned to the Spyder and the Scarabs. [Spyder, secure the area, and engage in combat only if strictly necessary. Scarabs are divided into three groups: the first with 20 units, the other two with 40. The first group stays with me; the rest, fully consume all-steel cars, trash, debris, and infected beings in the area, up to a maximum of 40 square meters.]
The Scarabs responded instantly. The units separated into formations, with the smallest group staying close to Christian while the others descended and spread throughout the surrounding area. Soon, the characteristic sound of the Scarabs filled the air: a constant screeching of metal and concrete being torn apart, combined with the chilling noise of growls, flesh being dismembered, and bones breaking. Christian didn't need to look over the edge of the building to know what was happening below; the data transmitted by the Scarabs confirmed their work without any margin for error.
"Now, to craft a new arm," he murmured softly to himself. His gaze remained fixed on the void in front of him as he spoke the phrase to access his Augmentation Suite. "Door to the Augmentation Suite."
In response to those words, the air seemed to tear apart in front of him, and a portal began to materialize. More than just a simple opening, it was a rupture in the fabric of space-time, forming a white circle the size of a man, devoid of light or sound. If he had to compare it to something, it would be to the portals from the game Portal, though only superficially.
Without hesitation, Christian stepped toward the portal, accompanied by the Servoskulls and Scarabs. However, just as he was about to cross the opening, he stopped abruptly.
For a moment, he remained still, his gaze fixed on the portal. The reason he stopped was that he had just remembered he'd forgotten to give some last, very important orders to the Scarabs—specifically, those collecting materials. A slight expression of irritation crossed his face as he mentally formulated the pending instructions.
"I always forget something..." he thought with some annoyance. He was seriously considering starting to write everything down to avoid these situations. A soft sigh escaped his lips. "Oh well, it doesn't matter."
[Skulls, Spyder, and Scarabs, you are ordered to avoid contact with humans at all costs. In case of contact, retreat as far away from them as possible. If attacked, use of force is authorized, but only to incapacitate; do not kill any humans.]
After issuing the necessary orders, Christian and his group crossed the portal without hesitation. On the other side, he was greeted by a sight that brought a childlike, almost innocent smile to his face—though with each passing second, the expression grew more unsettling.
The laboratory before him was a dream come true for any technomancer or cybernetics enthusiast. Dimly lit by neon lights in hues of blue, purple, and green, it contrasted with deep shadows and metallic reflections. The walls were covered with dark panels embedded with screens, some flickering with data graphs and biometric readings.
At the center stood a multifunctional surgical chair surrounded by robotic arms suspended from the ceiling. Each arm was equipped with advanced tools: precision lasers, automatic syringes, cauterizers, and mechanical clamps. The chair was connected to a central console with holographic screens displaying real-time diagnostics.
The laboratory is filled with workbenches, each one covered with a wide variety of tools and materials intended for the creation and repair of cybernetic prosthetics. Among the tools, there are advanced computers with multiple monitors, high-precision 3D printers, laser micro-welders, centrifuges, DNA analyzers, precision screwdrivers, standard and electric tweezers, magnifying glasses with integrated lighting, and other specialized devices for manipulating the tiny electronic and mechanical components that make up cyber implants.
Additionally, the tables house a diversity of construction materials, carefully organized in containers or scattered across the work area. Among these materials are high-strength metals like titanium and diamond coatings, as well as integrated circuits and advanced microprocessors. Alongside these inorganic materials, there are also organic elements stored in precisely labeled jars: blood, a cocktail of nutrients and vitamins, preservative liquids for biological tissues, and other chemical solutions used in cybernetic and biotechnological integration.
Christian could say without a doubt that this was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen, something straight out of his wildest cybernetics-related dreams, giving off a strong Cyberpunk 2077 vibe. Considering that the laboratory seemed to have been created based on his personal ideas/preferences, its appearance made perfect sense.
Christian's manic smile became smaller as he moved through the laboratory, his cranial implants taking no time at all to connect to the site's network. The place now belonged to him and obeyed his commands. Once he was seated in front of one of the laboratory's computers, he let out a soft laugh upon seeing the 3D modeling program displayed on the screen.
"Well, it's time to get started."
So, I've decided to rewrite the first chapters of the fic. There's no clear reason why I did it, but I think it's to give a better idea of the things that will happen in the future, particularly regarding the body Christian inhabits, its past, who the body belongs to, his family, and other related matters.
As for the first chapter, I thought the previous version was too short and somewhat simple, so I added more details and changed how Christian loses his arm and why he replaces it. Basically, it's now relatively more believable how he lost the limb… I think.
In any case, any criticism or suggestions are always welcome. I appreciate you reading this and hope you enjoy it. Thank you for your attention.
Disclaimer I do not own the material used in this fic.
Injecting nanomachines into the spinal cord in order to avoid infection from a virus/plague/parasite or zombie whatever was not something the person known as Christian thought he would be doing on a Saturday (although he really wasn't sure of the day given the time). time of waking up and knowing where the hell he is) in the night.
Six hours had passed since he had woken up in that dark alley, an alley where a kind of humanoid monster had torn off and eaten the fingers of his left hand, for which he once realized the type of situation he was in, escape through some stairs on one of the sides of the buildings that surrounded him.
Christian could easily say that he probably would have died on the roof of that building under other circumstances. Both for the fact that he was bleeding out and for the simple fact that he was a scrawny boy without an arm, surrounded by who the hell they know are those things that he wanted to eat him.
Luckily (or unfortunately for others, because that's always the case) such an event had not come true, at least for the moment.
Thanks to the appearance of a skill learning purchasing system that revolves mostly around technology, whether normal, mystical, or a combination of both, he was able to survive the event, at least temporarily.
You see when Christian had entered his Augmentation Room, a kind of dimensional laboratory equipped with all the materials and equipment necessary for the creation and implantation of mechanical implants, such as an arm, leg and even organs. He was in perfect health, well that's not counting the stumps on his left hand, but whatever.
The thing is that as the hours passed (specifically two), his body had begun to get sick, from flu, headache and finally a strong fever that made him feel as if he were in an oven. It was practically as if his own body began to self-destruct.
At first, he had been confused as to why the sudden change occurred, but quickly the memory of the attack by the zombified humanoid had come to him and he finally knew what it was about.
Infected.
That's the answer he came to after thinking about the possible reasons for his discomfort, which is quite logical given that a few hours ago his body had been attacked by some strange shit and well, that, there really wasn't much to think about. to find out how he had reached that conclusion.
In any case and faced with the threat presented to him, Christian decided to stop working on a replacement for his lost fingers and start working on a cure for his ailment (if there was one).
Through a combination of Antibody Creation, Necron Technology, Environmental Protection and Miniaturization/Efficiency added to his Cranial Implants and Loading Human.exe in order to evade the severe pain in his body he was able to create a series of self-replicating nanomachines whose function is to strengthen your body when eliminating invading agents.
Now one would wonder why not simply use Antibody Creation for healing, the answer is simple. He had no idea what type of infection it was, in addition to the fact that he does not have an infected sample with which to carry out an experiment to search for a cure, so based on that and although it took longer, he decided on nanomachines.
These nanomachines function by destroying any agent external to the body at a molecular level and then once their task is finished, they enter a rest mode waiting for any future threat to be faced. For their operation, replication and maintenance they use both matter and matter as fuel. energy of the agents to be destroyed as Christian's own matter/energy.
Although such a thing might sound like something wonderful and super useful, it is not exempt from the probability of failure, such as for example that they would get out of control and begin to devour their entire body, and then once they would have nothing to eat from it, begin to eat the environment around him in a gigantic devouring storm that would end the world, in a very literal way.
Well as the saying goes: If you are afraid of dying then don't be born or something like that.
Taking out the syringe connected to the tube were said nanomachines are stored from his neck, the sensation of ants jumping around his neck was somewhat curious, but nothing he was not used to.
"Well…I hope this…is enough"
Gently leaning back on the operating chair in his laboratory, Christian felt a strange sense of calm, as if he were in some kind of lucid dream, almost like being drunk, but not really drunk, one would say it's like using marijuana, but generally It was even stranger.
Unfortunately, this sensation ended with the beginning of a series of spasms and nausea that arose from his body. Curiously, and thanks to his Cranial Implants and his Loading Human.exe, he was not feeling the pain of such things, beyond discomfort.
He tilted his head towards the floor and vomited, a black substance coming out of his mouth. He wiped the rest of his mouth with his right arm.
"I hope this ends quickly."
------------
Unfortunately for Christian that was not the case.
Two hours.
That was the total duration of his spasms and urge to vomit. Two full hours of him, completely lying in his operating chair, while his body screams in pain and discomfort.
Letting out a tired sigh, he stood up from the chair with the intention of continuing the construction of his replacement fingers.
As soon as he stood up, he almost fell to the floor due to the exhaustion of his body.
He truly could not feel pain, fatigue, fear and other emotions/sensations that clouded his goals, but that did not mean that they did not exist and that his body was not feeling the consequences of it.
"Damn body of flesh"
Recovering from his depressed state, Christian advanced towards his laboratory area where, lying on one of the tables, a 3D plan of the creation of his prosthetic fingers was displayed on a computer.
Christian's laboratory is 50 meters wide on each side and 3 meters high. Given Christian's size and relative solitude, such size was more than enough for his current projects.
The entire laboratory is equipped with the highest technologies, intended for the creation, maintenance and implantation of cybernetic implants in the human body. Of course this was not the only thing available in the laboratory, but it is the main thing given its function.
Sitting in the chair in front of said table, Christian watched as the servoskull and canopteck scarab (which had been produced by the sypder, after having decomposed several of the humanoid beings as material for its construction) were in a kind of mode. of rest while awaiting new orders.
Looking carefully at the map in front of him, new ideas began to form in Christian's head, while he looked thoughtfully at his damaged member.
"It doesn't make much difference between this and that."
With those words spoken, he began to alter the design of said prostheses or more specifically unite and expand them into something completely different from what was originally proposed.
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Removing his blue shirt from his body (which he is sure was not his outfit from the day he got drunk, plus the much smaller size), and then sitting on the operating chair, Christian watched as the servoskulls floated around him in the air. waiting to begin the operation.
The look of seriousness and contemplation on Christian's face marked the train of thought as to whether the following actions were the correct option to follow.
¨ Are there other options? ¨
"Yes, but you know, this is easier."
"Good point…I think."
With his thoughts clear about what will happen next, he temporarily closes his eyes as he lets out a sigh of acceptance and his eyes open this time with more confidence and strength than a while ago.
"Okay, it's time to start" He licked his lips dryly, he needs to eat and drink something "Servoskull start the implantation procedure"
They moved at the given order and quickly began the implantation procedure.
With a bit morbid and bizarre curiosity, Christian watched as the Monotask-skull type servokulls, using the tools installed in his cybernetic arms, cut off his entire left arm from the area where the arm connects to the torso, blood came out of the freshly cut tip.
The arm was quickly picked up by another of the servoskull and placed on one of the tables. It is pale white in color, he thought it was due to the weakness of his body, he also found it curious how even with his lack of glasses he could see completely normally.
Quickly in the area, the protesteis intended to serve as a replacement was placed, Christian did not feel any weight added to his mass, this is due to the density modifying properties of it. It is a midnight black arm made entirely of Living Metal. It has all the capabilities of a normal arm, plus of course being damn tough compared to the original and having a variety of hacking defenses and EMP protection.
No modifications or additions had been made to it, this due to its immediate purpose of functioning as an immediate replacement for Christian's left arm and that in case of failure it could be repaired more easily.
The sensation of a sting filled Christian's senses, the reason for them being due to the nanomachines in the prosthetic arm, which quickly connected to his body. Curiously, and given this capacity, they can come off in case of damage or future modifications.
Grateful for having the ability to feel no pain, which is helpful given the fact that the operation had been performed without any anesthesia. Christian began to move his prosthetic arm in search of evaluating its functioning, it apparently worked as he expected, it basically works like a normal arm and hand.
"Well now it's time to try it"
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Standing on the roof of the night of his awakening and after putting his shirt back on, Christian calmly watched as the sun of the new day rose over the horizon.
Thanks to said sunlight, Christian was finally able to see where he was. It apparently is a city, given the large number of buildings in the surrounding area, each of different and varied sizes, Christian thought it was the center of the city.
In the distance he could see how the city had even more things, but due to the lack of more light and its own natural limit, he could not identify the buildings.
"I survived my first day." He looked at his robotic arm. "Sorry, but at least I'm still alive. What do you think, friend?"
The canoptek spyder and the scarab floating on his shoulders did not respond to it, only remaining completely silent. Nothing new given that he himself is a robot without consciousness (at least he thinks that).
Walking to the edge of the roof overlooking the alley where he had woken up, she carefully peeked out to observe his state after the previous night.
He himself has a total of 20 of those zombified shits, which do nothing beyond moving like well...zombies, from one side to the other.
Given his calm and collected state, Christian theorized that they had not detected his presence, which was a good thing given the tremendous stupidity he is about to do.
"Okay, experiment 2, functionality check of the new arm."
The very professional and serious tone of his tone, despite what it sounds like, was driven entirely by his more childish tastes in experimentation and his own idiocy.
"This is stupid…ahhh" He moved away from the edge and then placed himself in a fighting position, while releasing a sigh of acceptance "Scarabs, I order you to bring one of the beings from down there to here and hold it until further orders"
They obeyed and quickly got off Christian's shoulders and quickly disappeared at the edge, only to reappear almost a minute later with one of those zombies, held by the scarabs' legs.
They themselves are grunting and writhing from one side to the other, their appearance, which recently was completely diffuse given the state of darkness of the night along the route, is something that surprised Christian.
He is a man with black hair, opaque eyes and extremely pale skin. His clothing consists of a plaid shirt, beige pants, and brown shoes. She herself appears to be destroyed, whether due to the multiple bites on the body or the simple fact of being covered in blood. Christian imagined that he would smell bad, but due to his own problems with being able to smell bad things, he did not feel anything from his body. Which was both good and bad.
"Well at least this confirms that they were humans" he whispered with his gaze fixed on the zombie "Sacarbs let him go"
At his command, the Sacrabs released the zombie, causing it to fall suddenly against the roof of the building. The sound of something breaking made Christian make an unconscious gesture of pain. Empathy is curious even when one feels it as a rotting cannibal.
He himself began to get up from the ground, and then once standing he began to walk at a slow and broken pace towards Christian, who only prepared himself by getting into position with his left hand raised in order to test the zombie's resistance.
This test began immediately, when said being lunged at Christian with its jaws completely open in a sign of biting, the only response to this was to grab him by the neck.
"You know, if my emotions weren't turned off, I would be completely terrified of having you in front of me" The zombie did not respond, he just continued growling "First field test with the infected, survival test without a head"
The head was torn off from the zombie body with a simple gesture, Christian was completely sure that previously, even using both arms, such a thing would be impossible for him. New ideas arose in his mind as a result.
Holding the head with his left hand, Christian watched as the zombie's body collapsed as if it were a puppet whose strings had been cut. It reminded him a little of the strange scene from that horror movie whose name he no longer remembers.
Curiously, despite this, the zombie's head was still completely functional, and of course it continued trying to bite it, despite its senselessness.
"You're a tough son of a bitch, you know that" The head was crushed by his hand with all the strength available in it "First field test with the infected, survival test without a head, result death due to lack of head"
A look of disgust formed on Christian's face, as he observed the remains of infected material that now covered his entire left hand.
"Great, now I have to clean this shit up."
------
Sitting in a chair in his lab, Christian watched in wonder as the new solution he had created, named Kennedy, after Leon S Kennedy, his favorite zombie game character, was decomposing/destroying every bit of the infected biological material he had obtained. of the zombie's body.
A triumphant smile appeared on his face at the result of the solution which had been created thanks to his antibody creation skills.
"Now let's try this on a human being," he said while grabbing a bit of the content with a pipette. "Oh, me."
A little of its contents were released into Christian's right arm, which, seeing that nothing else had happened within ten minutes after contact, took it as a sign that it was safe for any form of life. not infected. Of course, I also tried it on his cybernetic arm, which did not react in any way to it.
After that, he proceeded to create a new solution whose purpose was to clean your clothes of any dirt, bacteria or viruses.
Once that was done, he undressed and submerged all his clothes (which he is sure are not the same ones he got drunk in) in a container (created by the scarab) full of newly created solution, said clothes consisting of a blue shirt, black pants and white tennis shoes, also and by using both liquids, I clean the place where I vomit. They differed in that Kennedy is yellow and cleaning is blue.
"Okay, let's get on with the good stuff."
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Lying down in the operating chair again, although this time naked, Christian watched as a small crowd of scarabs and servoskulls gathered around him, who were about to operate on him.
Well, actually the ones who would do the operation are the servoskull, the scarabs are only there to hold the implants that would soon be implanted in Christian.
These implants consist of both external replacements in the form of the right arm, legs and eyes and internal replacements, such as the heart and lungs. Another thing to mention is that replacements for your most important bones such as the spine, ribs and pelvis are also included.
It should also be mentioned that he planned to install a power generator and a miniature matter/energy converter that, in combination with several nanomachines with the ability to harden in response to physical damage, would use sunlight absorbed from his skin as a source of energy. and thus, make it so that he did not need to eat to live.
To clarify all of these implants are made of Living Metal, protected from both hacking (he, he hopes so) and EMP.
One might wonder why he made such a decision, putting all his trust in experimental technology, whose risks of going wrong were so high that he might as well play Russian roulette, but with just one try.
The reason for this is due to a simple and banal reason.
Christian is weak.
It is the only reason why such a decision was made. The decision to replace much of his humanity with cybernetic implants.
Since he was young, Christian's body had only given him problems, not the kind of problems that would keep him permanently bedridden and hospitalized, but the kind that consumed much of his time and effort.
Whether it was the fact of constantly taking insomnia pills, his terminal kidney failure, his poor eyesight that forced him to always wear glasses, his weak back that made him slouch and shrink with each passing day.
Perhaps for many that is mild and they would say that he is complaining too much compared to others in more difficult situations. Christian could say bluntly that they were not wrong in that assessment.
Throughout his life he never had to fight for these problems beyond those generated by himself, he grew up surrounded by a loving family, which provided him with everything necessary to give him a comfortable and happy life. In addition to all this, as if that were not enough, he never lacked friends or colleagues who would always be willing to give him a hand.
So, the fact that he made the decision to use said technology to fix his broken body and improve it beyond the potential of his genome was not surprising, just a logical conclusion for someone of his type, a lazy person who makes hasty decisions that probably kill him, a waste given what was invested in him. This at least is Christian's opinion of the person he is.
Staring at the implants that would soon be connected to him, both external and internal. A thoughtful look graced his face before he simply let out a tired sigh and nodded in acceptance.
"Okay, Servoskull, install the right arm."
They moved and just like his left arm, it was quickly cut off and replaced with the old one. The installation was as expected, a stinging sensation was felt and said arm was finally able to act like a normal arm.
He made a few movements with his new hand, movements as common as sticking out his middle finger, doing an okay, and a classic high five.
"Okay, now the legs."
The process was almost similar to that of the arms, only in this case, the sensation made him feel like urinating, probably due to the connection of the nanomachines connecting to his body and causing certain stimuli in his body.
He slowly got up from the chair, and then began to perform a series of movements in sync with his other limbs, one of these activities curiously consists of dancing, the result is ridiculous and funny to say the least.
After that, he sat back down in the operating chair, with an increasing desire for future operations to be performed now.
"Well, that was the easy part, now the difficult part"
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Christian's eyes were torn out, his birth eyes that, although weak, always accompanied him on his always confusing path, he replaced them in the search for improvement.
His spine was separated from him, his always reliable support of his life, his protection from the system that allows control of his body. Changed for better protection, weight and speed.
Your ribs, guardians of your ribcage, protectors of the vital organs of your torso. Removed due to the placement of a better defense.
His organs and especially his heart was next, one of the first to emerge in the womb, torn from its place, but not without being humiliated by the placement of two devices in its vicinity, to allow Christian's survival during the operation, extirpated and their positions usurped.
All of these things and more, Christian did with his body, all in order to survive and thrive against anything this world had to offer.
Once the process was finished, he got up from the chair, the feeling that his altered body gave him is simply great, it was as if he had the power to destroy a tank with blows.
"Good," his voice sounded a little hoarse, probably due to the dryness of his body. "Now, let's see how it turns out."
--------
Standing in front of a mirror created by the Scarabs, Christian was able to observe the result of these modifications and their consequences on his appearance.
Strange is the word he used to describe his appearance, a combination of biology and machine.
His dark limbs made a great contrast with his white skin, the areas where these limbs were connected to his body, some types of black veins stood out, this is due to the connections made by the nanomachines.
In general, there would be nothing strange beyond these facts, just a young man with his cybernetic limbs appreciating the results of his new skills, nothing strange on that side, however and like every situation, this one had something curious.
What thing?
Well, the fact that Christian's face, well, it's not his face, at least not the one he was born with.
Where before there had been extremely short black hair, brown eyes full of dark circles, a simple face and tanned white skin, now there are brown eyes (these are cybernetic, he really doesn't know which ones are original), blonde hair, medium length by back, soft face and slightly pale white skin.
"Well at least that explains why his arm was pale and why he could see without glasses" his hands gently touched his face "No shit, I'm beautiful"
That was the only answer Christian came up with for all this and the truth is he wasn't wrong, compared to his previous face, his new face is quite pleasant to look at. The only thing he could be said to retain from his previous body is his physique and even then, he would say that the previous one is stronger.
Now one might wonder why his apparent calmness in the face of this revelation, contrary to what many would think, is that it is a product of his cranial implants and loading human.exe. The truth of the matter is that he just doesn't care.
For people of his type, life is simpler if you don't take most things seriously, even when they can kill you. An example of this was when he broke his arm and his only response to it was to get drunk while waiting for the ambulance. Which did not arrive and he had to be taken to the hospital, Latin America would not understand it.
In any case and free of any type of existential doubt for the moment, he limited himself to simply continuing to look at himself in the mirror in search of minor details that could be hidden in the body, after which after two minutes of finding nothing, he directed his He glances at the container where his clothes are stored, his right hand to his chin, to begin rubbing it in a thoughtful tone.
"Well, since my face isn't the same anymore, I think a change of outfit would be in order." An amused smile formed on her face, one that was quickly erased by the memory of the time she tried to make clothes. "I just hope not screw up the design"
----
Hello how are you?
I hope well, as those who read this will see, the chapter has been modified in order to improve its coherence.
Give me your opinion on the new version.
I thank anyone who is interested in this and encourage you to give support.
Thank you for reading.
Chapter 3: Creating Teams and Tools in a Dead World
Before starting this chapter, I recommend reading the previous one, which has been modified in order to improve the coherence and rhythm of the story.
Without further ado let's get started.
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Disclaimer I do not own the material used in this fic.
Trying on clothes is not something that Christian personally liked, the reasons for this are due to both his natural laziness and the simple fact of not being able to find clothes that he likes in his size.
Once and as a result of this, he had tried to make clothes for himself with an old sewing machine from his house, a good idea if it weren't for the fact that the origin of said idea was a 12-year-old boy who has zero knowledge of both. the sewing machine and designing clothes.
Under that premise it was easy to know what would happen, him failing his wish, setting fire to both the fabric to be used and the machine and being beaten until he cried on the floor, good memories in general.
Funnily enough for him, that had been the best, the design of the clothes he had tried to make was fucking horrible. A complete crime against aesthetics and beauty, almost like today's celebrity clothing.
It is for that fact that he could not be happier to have chosen Smart Clothing as one of his purchases, the ability to create outfits capable of altering its shape, appearance, size, texture and that it could also be as resistant as a tank or more thanks to the use of Living Metal as a construction material, something that would really come in handy to achieve its survival, given the type of unknown threats in this world.
Looking at the laboratory table in front of him, Christian observed with extreme joy the disk full of nanomachines that would soon become his clothes.
These nanomachines have the ability to not only self-replicate, but also to create any available clothing that is programmed for them/whatever its owner imagines. This creation is not only capable of copying the texture, properties and weight of the original, but is also harder and more resistant than any modern material thanks to the Living Metal of its composition, another thing to mention is that thanks to its capacity for alteration, it has the ability to create any equipment that the user wants, such as a radio, radar, heating, shield generator, etc., on the fly as long as I had the energy/matter for it.
For their operation, they use the energy supplied by Christian's own body, in addition to the always reliable sunlight and absorption of both biological and inorganic matter.
From Christian's point of view this was his greatest creation to date, even above the healing nanomachines that prevented him from dying/transforming from the zombies in the first place. They had required not only a large amount of material obtained from devouring the zombies in the area, but also all of his effort, focus and time in order to polish the finer details of it.
Three days had passed since the implantation operation performed on him, an operation where much of his humanity had been removed from him, in order to improve his survival capabilities.
A decision that he personally was glad about, both for the fact of becoming stronger and for the simple fact that in his own words he looks great, a genius that he hoped to increase with his next action.
Grasping the disk gently and delicately, Christian placed it on his neural interface located at the base of his skull.
The neural interface is the last of the modifications made by him towards his person, it consists of a device, which, through a direct connection with the spinal cord and the brain, allows connecting to any specialized machinery and converting it. in part of the body. For example, a specialized armor would cause once connected, the wearer and the armor to become one and the same.
Useful, but not as devoid of defects as anything, such as someone hitting you from behind, although for that case to arise you would have to be hit with a missile.
The instant the disc was placed, a design choice screen was presented to Christian, the idea that the choice of clothing appearance in this way was somewhat based on Elden Ring's equipment selection. Most of the designs in the catalog are based on all the clothes he has seen in his life or at least what he remembers.
The appearance of the screen was thanks to his new eyes. These eyes allow you not only to see in different spectrums of light, but also to see in real time a kind of 3D model of the state of your body and any problems with it, to give an idea of what it is like, one must think about the typical video game screens.
Looking at the catalog of clothing designs in front of him, it took him a total of 30 minutes to choose the appearance of the new clothes he would wear from now on in this world.
Once that was done, he felt like mud, as the nanomachines slid from the disk at the base of his skull and the clothing of his choice began to build over his naked body, in case you were wondering. clothes are stored in the same container filled with the solutions of their creation, this is also the fate of their organs and amputated parts.
It took a few seconds before it finished the construction process, which was a good thing since one would never know when one would need a change of clothing/equipment to something more specialized for the task.
Christian moved towards the mirror in his laboratory, one of the scarabs' many creations. Then once done, look ahead, allowing yourself to see the result of his work.
This work consists of a short jacket with several black pockets with red lines in the center on a black hooded sweater with a red line in the center on a black shirt, black gloves with red details, black pants with several pockets and a belt red on the hip and protections on the knees and heavy black boots with red lines running along the sides and in the center. All this is complemented by a black helmet with a red visor with red lines above, on the sides and below on his head. The entire suit is completely sealed, functioning as a kind of biohazard suit.
"Wow, I look like something out of a modern avant-garde anime…I like it" He took a few last glances in the mirror, never in his life had he been more than happy about clothes, well except for that time he bought a rabbit costume "Now the important thing the endurance test
Finishing making a fool of himself for this time, he quickly moved to one of the laboratory tables, on which were a series of weapons and devices, which consisted of two stainless steel knives, an M9 pistol and a blowtorch. All created with the help of the scarabs (those little shits sure do come in handy) and their own knowledge, all created for the purpose of testing the suit's resistance and shielding.
Gripping the knife tightly with both hands, I point it in the direction of his stomach, the area where if something went wrong, he would not receive as much damage. The reason for doing this as already mentioned is to test the suit's resistance to different types of damage, one might wonder why not do this before putting on the clothes, well the answer to that is simple as the fact that they are programmed to only take shape when connected to the neural interface, because they don't. He did it any other way, well, because he's an idiot.
It is necessary to mention the fact that it reactivates the ability to feel pain, in order to know the success of the tests.
The knife was pushed in a quick and accurate movement, which once hit the shield, broke into multiple pieces. A kind of green light glowed for a few seconds before fading.
He examined the knife and its deplorable condition, completely unusable unless someone took the effort to repair it. The test with the shield had worked, now the only thing missing was not using the shield.
Discarding the broken knife and its parts on the table, I grab the double of it and perform the same procedure as before, only this time, the shield on his suit is deactivated.
That fact did not change much other than making it break into larger portions than the previous one.
Once the test was completed, he let both knives and their remains be devoured by the scarabs, in order to reuse the material.
The blowtorch was the next part of the test to be performed, turning it on, he began to pass it through his entire stomach, which given the lack of pain or even heat concluded the test successfully. This happened both in the test with and without a shield.
The end of said blowtorch is the same as that of knives, being devoured by scarabs.
Finally, this left M9 as the last test to complete. The most important given the fact that in zombie apocalypses, the probability of dying at the hands of other human beings from a distance as a result of a firearm is always high.
The gun was pointed in the direction of the stomach and then without hesitation, he emptied half the magazine into it. The bullets were completely pulverized upon impact with the shield of the suit, Christian is not sure why this is, it is probably due to the materials the bullets are made of, since when he performed the experiment again without the shield with the rest of the bullets, they only broke into small pieces.
Considering these are the things typically used to damage Living Metal and Necron shields, this isn't all that surprising overall.
Once the experiments were finished, he placed the gun on the table of origin and ordered the scarabs to eat it along with the remains of the bullets.
"Experiments finished, success proven" He throned his body calmly "Now, let's move on to the next thing."
Heading over to the computer in his lab, he sat in the chair in front of it and began working on his next project.
"Now, what types of weapons should I make for myself?"
--------------
There is nothing more natural than the fact of killing something using your own body to kill it, whether it was for food or defense, after all it is the purest way to kill, using the forces that nature itself gives you.
Under that argument, one wonders if modifying one's own body in order to make it stronger and more lethal, such as donning a pair of arms filled to the brim with weapons, would count as cheating.
Which is quite in line with the human being, the dominant species on planet earth, using not only the body's natural strength to win but also its intelligence and ability to create any chance of surviving and thriving.
Looking closely at the new prosthetic arms and legs in front of him, an amused smile began to form on Christian's face.
These new arm and leg prostheses are improved and altered models of those used by Christian, said improvements and alterations consist of the implementation of a multitude of weapons and tools of various types in order to both allow his own defense and attack and to carry out actions of a more complex nature, such as climbing a building from the outside.
Its construction was relatively simple, at least in the mold part, since he had simply copied the design of Christian's own current arms and made a few modifications to them in order to include all the weapons and tools that they currently possess.
It's all thanks to a combination of their Charged abilities, Miniaturization/Efficiency, Necron Technology and the most important piece if you doubt them, the Proto-Tool.
Nodding in congratulations to himself for his work, Christian ordered the servoskull under his command to grab the new prosthetics, and then went to the operating chair, at the same time he ordered his suit to retract until the limbs were left to be removed. discovered.
The process was similar in part to their first operation, the only difference was that when they removed their cybernetic limbs, there was a complete lack of blood from it.
The reason for this is due to the nanomachines that connect his body with his cybernetic limbs that quickly sealed the entire area where the limb was removed.
Once those were done, he gave the order for the servoskull to install the new limbs. To which once the installation process was completed, new data and functions filled her line of sight, while the connection with them finished forming.
Once the process was finished, his suit quickly remodeled to cover the new limbs. After which, he got up from the chair and began to move towards the faithful computer in his laboratory, without even taking a minute to rest or to appreciate his new limbs and began to work again on the next weapons that he would carry.
One would think that their new arms and legs alone would be enough given the large amounts of equipment they carry, however, for Christian this was not the case.
Although his new arms and legs had more than enough equipment and weapons to defend or attack, the truth is that at the end of the day, they are still his limbs, limbs that, if they fail during or due to a fight, will would render him completely useless and he would probably die.
It is for this reason that a weapon external to your body is the best option at the moment, a weapon that would serve both as a way to check the type of enemies that this world has to offer and that, if damaged, it will not affect in nothing to his person.
Basically, a plan A in the form of an external weapon to combat directly and a plan B in its extremities, either to attack or flee. Simple and easy to understand.
Sitting in the chair in front of his computer, Christian's mind searched the deep recesses of his imagination in order to find a type and design of weapon that he liked.
It took almost an hour for said weapon and design to form in his head, although more in terms of the design than the weapon itself.
Transmitting the data of their new creations to their scarabs, they quickly began to build them.
The creation process used by the scarabs is always something that fascinated him, the use of matter-energy conversion allowed them to create anything as long as they had the energy/matter for it.
One can be grateful that the Necron of 40k are divided and broken, because if they were not there, they would have taken everyone, since their awakening.
The construction process once completed allowed us to finally see the designs and appearances of their new weapons.
They consist of a pair of medium-sized pistols (compared to its 1.60M body) of dark black color with red details along the body and handle, which have a kind of secondary barrel under their barrel. from which a small blade protrudes.
Although at first glance its design was somewhat simple, the reality of the matter is that they are a version made entirely of nanomachines of the Ben 10 Proto-tool, only, instead of having a wide variety of various areas, these versions only have weapons and equipment intended to kill and destroy.
Kill and destroy.
As he thought of those words, a wave of doubt began to form in Christian's mind, something he had not felt in all his time in this place.
The reason for this is due to the simple fact of having created something with the sole purpose of killing, of taking the life from another living being.
Now, one may wonder why you feel this way at this point, well the issue with that is that, up to this point, most if not all of your actions and creations had not caused any harm to anyone.
Yes, he had killed several zombies around him as a matter of practice and to obtain materials, when he could have looked for a way to cure them and modified his body with technology that could destroy the world if it got out of control, but in essence none of those things had been done with the purpose of harming others (at least not sentient beings), beyond their defense.
Now, many could say that there was no difference between this and that, since they were being created with the purpose of having another means of defense against the future threats of this world, only in this case they are much more lethal.
A lethality that he shares with all his creations, but which, however, was not something sought.
That is the fundamental difference with his other creations, although all of them have the ability to be used as weapons, that is not the main function of their construction, not even their arms and legs filled to the brim with things. That is the difference, one is tools with the capacity to kill and the others are weapons intended to kill.
These thoughts remained in his head for a long time, something good both for their meaning and for the fact that perhaps this would be one of the few moments where said questions could be asked with complete calm in his being.
¨ Does it matter in the end? ¨ His conscience asked him "This is for living, for surviving, and it's not very different from what you've already done"
¨Yes, good point, it's just that¨ A soft laugh of sadness came out of his mouth ¨You just know I'll probably have to kill another human being¨
That is the central point of the doubt that he currently has in his heart, the fact that as in any apocalypse of this type, he will probably be forced to kill other human beings.
Well, that would be in the typical apocalypse, as far as Christian knows, he finds himself in the magical world of the zombie apocalypse where the infected are only men and there is a whole horde of women eager to keep him company.
He just snorted at this idea, a silly idea, but at least it was useful to get his mind away from his previous thoughts, better than letting his mind and emotions turn off completely through his cranial implants and carrying human .exe as a substitute for alcohol, as a temporary coping measure.
"I'll think about that when the time comes" the voice in his head told him to stop avoiding problems, he ignored it "Now, let's check how these puppies work."
The instant his hands took the handles of his weapons, his vision was filled with its details and functions. This feature was something added to the weapons, they have a series of nodes that connect to the computer located in your brain through a wireless connection.
This would theoretically allow a person with no experience in weapons like Christian (at least not this type) to be able to handle them fluently, in addition of course being able to activate the various functions of the weapons.
Gripping the pistols with inhuman strength, Christian examined them using his scanning and analysis skills on his suit for any sign of imperfection, something necessary given the type of damage they could cause if they failed.
After a while of examination and finding nothing wrong with them, he ordered his suit to be modified in order to include a pair of holsters in his pants, where when finished, he kept his weapons.
He began to walk to the laboratory mirror, which could very well be his home since he practically lives there, and then once in front of it, admire the fruits of his work.
"Well, I think... I'm ready... for what this world has to give" he said with a slightly doubtful voice, before tilting his head and putting a positive smile on his face "Now to mark the teammates."
-----------------
Modifying a canoptek spyder under the summer sun is an activity that Christian never thought he would be doing in his life, although well that could apply to everything that has happened in the last few days.
Being back on that roof of his awakening, he is currently making a series of modifications and installations to his trusty spyder, his main source of material and construction.
Said modifications and installations consist of things like a second power generator to reinforce the production and maintenance of the spyder, useful given the fact that I also install a shield and a few weapons to improve both its defense and attack, last but not least , also and like the rest of his "thinking" creations, had placed a chip in it, which allows him to connect remotely with them, allowing him not only to know their physical state, but also to order them to come where he is and Other things.
Finishing installing all the equipment, Christian carefully observed how the tools in his arms, used to carry out the procedure, returned to the inside of his arms, and then were once again covered by his suit, which had been retracted in order to use these tools without damaging it.
A new variety of data was presented in his view, data that was mostly about his various "Thinking" constructs, their status, location, capacity, etc.
Once the connection process was finished, he performed a system diagnosis to ensure its operation, and then once he made sure that everything was fine, he went to the edge of the building connected to the alley where he had woken up a few days ago.
This alley is completely empty, the reason for this is both the use of any zombie in the area as construction material by converting their bodies into energy thanks to the scarabs and the spyder under his command (he did not want to use it in the buildings in order not to attract attention) and the fact that the surroundings of the roof where it is, are devoid of anything striking that could keep them here.
One would think that the presence of the gigantic canoptek spyder would be enough to keep them in place, but the thing is that beyond looking bright and flashy, it did not have something that would make the zombies want to stay in place, perhaps the reason This was due to its lack of noise, its lack of smell, the fact that it was a robot, etc.
In general, and beyond the sound of the air and the rats in the area, there was nothing that caught the attention of the place, even Christian who has scanners capable of detecting life in twenty meters, did not find anything striking.
"Okay, time to explore" he turned to look at the silent spyder "Take care, I'll call you if I need anything."
One could say that it is very reckless of Christian to leave the spyder in this place in sight of any random person walking by the place, which is not entirely correct, because to see him one would need to climb a building, but for that matter, simply leaving it here alone could be considered stupid and reckless.
He knows that clearly, but I consider that, given that the spyder had not suffered any damage or attack during the entire time that he was locked in his laboratory, ignoring, of course, the periods used to order the collection of materials from the scarabs, He concluded that that would be the same in this case, furthermore, and if that situation arises, the spyder is fully equipped to handle any type of threat both thanks to his natural abilities and the recently implanted ones.
An extremely arrogant thought of course, but appropriate for someone of his type.
Taking one last look at the spyder, he returned his gaze to the alley, then hesitantly dropped to his feet from the edge.
His landing was smooth and silent, this was thanks to the antigravity technology in both his legs and suit, which allowed him not only to greatly reduce his weight, but also to fly, but slowly and a little unstable due to the lack of practice. A computer and modifications will do a lot for you, but if your body and mind are not used to the activity then no matter what you have, you are going to fail.
Recovering from his fall, he began walking to the left exit of the alley. The building (its roof more specifically) where he is located is in an apparent business area, a place that he would call the center of the city due to its large number of buildings. The building itself is in one of the many rows of buildings in the area.
During the journey to the exit of the place, the idea of returning and returning to his laboratory and locking himself up again to never come out and face his situation appeared in his head, an idea that he quickly discarded for the simple fact of not being a coward. shit and the simple fact of wanting to explore, silly for many, but that's how he is.
Without any further hesitation or doubt in his mind, he gave a small prayer hoping that everything would turn out well…he really hoped that everything would turn out well.
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Hello how are you?
I hope it's ok.
Third chapter of the fanfic, in this we can see how Christian creates his equipment and tools that he will use to explore the new world where he is, in addition to of course some doubts about himself.
As always, I remind you that English is not my first language and I am open to criticism.
Thank you for reading.
Chapter 4: Exploring and Investigating a City in a Dead World
I'm back, after two full months I'm back to continue this crazy story, first of all I apologize for not giving any signs of life, many things happened, both personal and not knowing what to write in the fanfic, this is the sixth version of the chapter.
I hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer I do not own the material used in this fic.
Stepping out of the alley from his awakening, Christian took a look at his surroundings. Although he has in his suit, a radar and sensors capable of detecting the presence of any being within 20 meters of his position, it never hurts to make sure of the environment around him with more mundane means.
Without seeing or detecting anything dangerous in his vicinity, he took out his weapons from their holsters and began to explore the place, although before that, he first concentrated on recognizing the surroundings of the place where he was, something that even without his cybernetic enhancements and being completely lost, it's something simple to do.
The environment around him can be described as the typical setting of a recent modern post-apocalypse fiction. Buildings of various purposes and sizes lined up along the street, abandoned cars and trucks of various models, types and sizes scattered around, damp and dark alleys spread along the junction of the buildings and last but not least , dried and rotten blood splashing every inch of the sidewalk and street there. All the places and things mentioned share the broken and abandoned state of an abandoned place, especially how many are cared or with a destroyed or crashed engine.
In short, a movie scene, only in this case it is real life...the punches he gave himself every time he finished an update on his body confirm the reality of all this and he does not have any woman (Black) to rescue , fall in love and have a happy ending…yet…he really hopes that.
Curiously, moving around this unknown and chaotic environment is relatively easy to do given the ability to create a real-time 3D map of your surroundings, 20 meters to be exact, limited in this way for both safety and concentration reasons. in things close to him and not having himself saturated with data.
Data on what?
Well, everything.
Thanks to the combination of its radar, sonar and sensors, its map not only shows every building and alley in the place, but also its small details, things like stairs, gutters and even the sewers of various sizes that run through the bowels of the earth, which connect each building in the place, to all this is added the ability to "see" the interior of said places to make their mapping more complete, however all this pales in comparison to the fact of being able to know the exact location of any living being around you.
They appear on the map as small dots, distinguished by different colors intended to differentiate those detected. Red for unknown humans, yellow for infected, blue for animals, orange for vehicles, and green for allies.
Something to highlight in the case of the yellow ones is that they are greatly absent in the places where Christian is exploring. He is unsure of the reasons for this, beyond theorizing that it is due to ordering his scarabs to devour any zombies in the vicinity (which also posed another problem since he never established what close means, which is bad because every time his laboratory left he left them alone) and that there was nothing that kept them here in the first place (Noise, animals, his mere presence, etc.)
In a way it was a good thing since it made his exploration much easier and calmer, something he liked to a certain extent, you never know when you would enjoy things like that again.
Anyway, even if the place was filled to the brim with that shit, thanks to this and his enhanced senses, the fear of being ambushed had been greatly reduced, not enough for his paranoia to disappear, which It is good since trusting himself would only end up killing him out of arrogance, but enough so that he no longer has to turn off said emotions with his cranial implants, something good due to the fact that he does not want to be completely dependent on them, which in case of Failure would leave him incapable of acting in moments of extreme tension, as well as always wanting to function as a normal human being, both with downs and ups. Which is why he didn't keep himself in a state of constant indifference or extreme joy/happiness, such things would drive him crazy in the long run… if he isn't already, given the things done these days.
Ignoring that and returning to the current topic, one must keep in mind that his exploration did not consist only of him moving from one side to the other in search of something striking (people, objects, zombies), while creating a map of relatively large size. and long composed of the places where it passes (mostly streets and alleys), which has the disadvantage that those places outside its detection range are not in real time, but also analyzing the environment around it through of the scans in your eyes.
These scanners are one of the most important features of Christian's cybernetic eyes, along with the different types of vision available to him (infrared, x-ray, night, etc.), which allow him to know practically everything about his environment, from the simplest things like the components of the hard and heavy earth, to the most detailed things like the composition of the buildings around it, their approximate age, their structural condition and so on.
No secret was left undiscovered thanks to this, whether it is useful or not in the current time, nor forget given that all the information obtained is stored in the computer in your head, located in your brain, which through a series of nanomachines was connected each part of his brain, improving it greatly, which is why he could use the different types of vision without his brain short-circuiting as it was not capable of receiving this type of data.
Curiously, and thanks to these abilities, he was able to detect his presence in the soft, cold and relaxing air around him. The presence of the pathogen responsible for the existence of the undead known zombie beings, the one responsible for the place where he is, being this way, called by himself as the Romero Pathogen (Christian has little originality for names).
Since its arrival and for obvious reasons, it had become one of Christian's main subjects of study, mostly with the aim of destroying it without leaving any traces, the investigation for that purpose had been divided into two different study periods, each separated by a relatively long amount of time.
In both cases, a clear benefit had presented itself at the end of them, whether it was the creation of the healing nanomachines that currently course through his body (although that was more a matter of programming them to attack anything that was not natural to a human body with the exception of his other creations) and the creation of the Kennedy substance, which destroys both the pathogen and any infected being at a molecular level.
Due to these facts, Christian's knowledge consists almost entirely of methods to destroy it without leaving a trace of its existence, plus a few pieces of information about its functioning as a virus, but not much beyond that.
A pretty big failure, given that you never know if he could mutate/evolve, making his nanomachines useless and turning him into a stinking bag of dead meat (not to mention the possibility of the existence of special Resident Evil-type zombies), a quite a big failure, generated by his own incompetence and desire to explore his knowledge in cybernetics and recover his lost arm, leaving said research somewhat forgotten.
He made a metal note, to return to said research later in the hope of improving his understanding of it, something that with new data obtained about one of its forms of transmission (which he did not know because he had never done this before, another failure ) and with a little more concentration, resources, more specialized equipment, time and spending a few points on something related to the broader biology beyond combining humans and machines into a single being, I would be ready to unravel the mysteries of the pathogen, perhaps even finding a way to reverse the transformation.
Thinking about her knowledge is a constant reminder of the cost of it and the waste she had made, especially when the amount she had been given was more than enough to give her general knowledge on various topics instead of over-specialization. that he currently has.
This fact is a direct consequence of his hasty decision-making, decisions that many could argue that the making of those decisions was due to a moment of extreme physical and mental weakness, which, given his dazed and disoriented state as a result of his rare Waking up made things somewhat understandable, but that didn't mean it didn't affect him in some way, especially when if it weren't for the luck of the ladder in the alley and obtaining the Celestial Forge, he would most likely have He would be dead (from bleeding) or turned into a zombie (lost fingers and infected).
In any case, what's done is done and the only thing left was to accept those decisions. Of course one should not misinterpret his words, he really does not regret his purchases and the knowledge he has acquired (he really loves his nanomachines), instead it was more a matter of feeling that in other, much calmer circumstances , these purchases could have been something much more varied instead of the small redundancies that it currently has, such as Cranial Implants and Loading Human.exe, which for practical purposes could well be the same.
"You know you can always ask Celestial Forge about getting points, right? ¨
"Ah…that's right, thank you conscience." He thanked his conscience for reminding him of that fact. "Celestial Forge, what is the method for obtaining purchase points?"
By the grace of Chaos and Randomness, you are informed that the knowledge of obtaining more shopping points is something you have to figure out yourself.
Thanks for your attention and happy survival.
A look of absolute disbelief formed on Christian's face as he finished reading those words, not so much because of the fact that he had been denied the information he wanted but more because of the formal and simple tone of the words, as if it were an answer. answering machine.
"Well…I didn't expect that" The first disappointment given by himself, some good in a way to remind him about trust and faith about a kind of store of knowledge of unknown origin "Insulting in a way, but given the fact informing about the possibility of obtaining points, not entirely useless"
A good thing given his goal of gaining more knowledge of other areas in order to improve his overall survival abilities, as well as being able to create a good shelter for himself and anyone who would like to join him.
The last thing was something he had been thinking about practically since the second day he was here. Given the presence of the buildings, cars, zombies and their obvious human origin, he concluded that there must be humans in this world.
In general you weren't sure what to do when meeting someone beyond trying to make contact and see if he or they are hostile towards you, which, given the frequency of such behaviors in this kind of situation, was already happening. getting to the idea that he would probably have to incapacitate or kill them. Preferably incapacitate them in order to extract information from them and carry out one or another experiment.
Carrying out these actions did not bother Christian in the least, less because of the cranial implants and more because of internalizing the fact that in other circumstances, being killed would be the gentlest thing that could be done to him, also and far from this point. There was another reason why you are worried about coming into contact with people.
People's rejection of him.
Given his technology and cybernetic capabilities, in addition to the modifications made to his person, Christian did not doubt that people, even if they were not completely hostile towards him, would still be reluctant to trust him (if they were not already. ), more so when he presents/demonstrates his full range of technological abilities/creations, which are far above anything this world has ever seen (as far as he knows), so much so that if one were to look at them with the naked eye, one would think such things as magical or simply impossible.
He is aware of this, that distrust will be the first thing people will have in their hearts when they see him for the first time, not surprising given that he would be the same in their situations or even more paranoid.
To solve this, he devised a series of plans to get people to trust him, things like creating a place full of all modern conveniences and beyond, curing diseases and illnesses forever, including the zombie pathogen, limb replacement. lost with completely superior versions of their biological counterparts and even possessing more time, equipment, knowledge and equipment, a possible way to reverse the transformation of the zombies and return them to being human.
Of course he knows perfectly well that saying these things to any random person out there would only end up with him getting into trouble that he doesn't know if he could get out of alive given the number of unknown threats in this world. Threats which could be so dangerous that the use of Hax weaponry such as a Starbreaker Xeelee could be on the table and even then there would still be significant room for loss. Things like the Netora Ranger, existences beyond space and time, whose nature could be described as an immutable concept on the same caliber as gravity.
This is one of the reasons why he is so resentful of creating and sending drones to explore his surroundings, creating some type of long radius or seeing if there was any signal in his vicinity and one of the reasons he limits the range of his sonar/radar, in addition to the fact that he doesn't want to have too many things on the screen/mind and get distracted, all because he is not sure if there is something or someone with the ability to detect and track him. Which may have the ability to kill him.
Because of this and his need for information about the terrain he is in (as well as his own desire to go outside) he is now doing what he is doing, that is, walking from one side to the other without any fixed direction in search of something. striking.
Basically what 100% of open world video game players do as soon as they start, although in his case and given that he has the Celestial Forge, it is the modded version of said scenario.
In any case, and ignoring whether or not life is a game, Christian dedicated himself to simply continuing to move forward and explore the site in search of something striking, something like…
-------------
"Something like this"
Hidden in an alley, Christian carefully observed the curious scene that was taking place about 25 meters from him.
A zombie horde is the clear description of what it is, a horde composed of undead beings devouring flesh, a wave of death in simple words. Said horde is currently stumbling from one side to the other without apparently moving from its position, all while wild and guttural growls are released by the components of the horde.
Christian theorized that such behavior is due to a lack of anything to make him react, whether it be a loud noise, flashy things, or food, which in the context of the undead and the complete lack of any living being larger than a rat in the street, it's all a living thing.
"Well at least that explains where all the outside zombies went or at least a good amount."
His eyes continued analyzing the horde, however, he quickly encountered the problem of how little visible everything is, mostly due to the large concentration of zombies and the fact that even activating the other functions of his eyes (x-rays/ infrared vision), the problem was still maintained or even aggravated as in the case of infrared vision given the fact that when they are dead they lack temperature and appear as a shapeless blue mass.
"I need high ground."
Christian took a few glances at his surroundings and at his radar in search of threats (not there), and then looked up at the sky or more specifically at the edge of one of the buildings that form the alley where said alley currently shares the same boring, abandoned and simple tone as the rest, in addition to only having one exit and no stairs to climb to the roofs, such a fact would have made many retreat and look for some other place to climb, however and thanks to its weapons this is not the case for him.
This is due to the fact that these weapons are based on the iconic proto-tool used by the charismatic character Rook Blonko from Ben 10. Which can be described as a high-tech multifunctional weapon, this description is revealing of one of its greatest characteristics. , its multifunction. Whether it functions as a simple laser weapon or a missile launcher, it is made and designed to be used in a wide variety of scenarios, both civil and military.
It is under this fact that one can get the idea of the capabilities of Christian's weapons, which were magnified thanks to the fact that it was composed entirely of self-replicating nanomachines that allow it to repair itself in case of being damaged and to absorb energy both the generated by the wearer's own body as well as the environmental one, which eliminates one of the weaknesses of the original design and its lethality, especially when the weaponry used by them is greater than that used by the original proto-tool or at least it is greater in the sense of killing
With these facts in mind it wasn't a surprise what happened next or well in a way it was given how cool it looks.
"Hook Mode"
Given the order given, the weapons quickly began the process of switching to said mode. The main barrel of the weapon was split in two (nothing is seen except a kind of black wall), giving complete freedom to the second barrel, which begins to expand forward, covering a little more the blade of the barrel to which small Beak-like protuberances emerge from the flat edges. The process took a full second to complete, slow by survival standards, but useful nonetheless.
Watching the edge of the roof carefully, he pointed his two weapons at the edge with a firm and powerful grip. Calculations about speed, weight, pressure and gravity were given in his head, said calculations only took a full second to make and complete, and then he ordered his weapons
"To fly"
Squeezing the trigger of his weapons, the blades of his weapons shot out at high speed, both connected by a thick thread made of nanomachines to the main body, he did not feel any recoil from them, this due to the modifications in his body. A soft cracking and breaking sound rang out, confirming the penetration of said blades into the building.
Giving a few nods to the weapons to confirm their penetration strength and resistance, he gave a small nod before pulling the triggers of the weapons again.
His body was raised at high speed as a result of the retracting of the blades, a hissing sound was produced by this action.
Seeing something like this, one would think of a typical action movie/game scene where a character would use a hook gun to access distant or high places, basically one of the most characteristic things about Ada Wong's character from Resident Evil, well and the acrobatics, worthy of one of the spy-type characters in fiction.
Unfortunately Christian is not Ada and unlike her, his knowledge and practices in acrobatics are reduced to simply being able to lift his lazy butt out of bed. Given this one could imagine what ended up happening.
Christian crashed against the edge of the building, which due to the force and speed of climbing caused a loud crash noise and the formation of a silhouette on the wall, only his legs make up said silhouette, this due to the way in which he He crashed, with his torso hitting the edge and the top on top of the roof.
Thanks to the fact that he didn't feel pain, it didn't take him long to push the rest of his body up onto the roof and then get back up, during this entire process he never let go of his weapons.
"Note to self, I need to practice more with this thing" I whisper in an annoyed tone.
Pressing the triggers of his weapons again, the blades converted into hooks were retracted again, although this time and given Christian's position, they did not propel him backwards, but this time they moved to return to their origin.
A soft sound of the alien metal thread retracting sounded in the air, it took less than a second to finish the process and behind them he moved so he could look at the horde in his vicinity.
Squatting on the edge of the building, he observed the large number of zombies that make up the horde, at first glance one could tell that there were more than 100, which thanks to his scanners he knew to be partly true.
The reality of the matter is that the horde is made up of twice that amount, 200 undead beings devouring the living, which as if it were a lake of death and decay, remained still in place. The comparison with a lake comes from the fact that due to the various cars of various types within the horde and how the zombies surround and avoid them, they give the illusion of being stones in a lake.
Looking carefully at the horde, Christian thought about the most efficient way to eliminate it. Thanks to the distance cut with the horde and the altitude, he was able to better appreciate the horde and its functioning, the reason why he knew the number of members.
This is due to the fact that the distance between him and the horde had been reduced to 10 meters (which measures the ceiling horizontally), which causes the map and radar/sonar to have a completely yellow side.
A curious fact about the horde is that despite the fact that some are literally with missing body parts or in a decomposed state, none of them produce a bad smell. Christian didn't know the reason for this, especially with a sun as hot as the current one.
Finally deciding on how to eliminate the horde, Christian stood up from his crouched position and did a few quick stretches. He didn't really need it, but the sensation of doing them gave him a certain enjoyment that he couldn't explain, perhaps due to the fact of what comes next.
The beginning of his extermination plan. A plan that could only be described as stupid, childish, weird and silly, all things that marked his being.
"Alright, here we go."
Christian dropped from the edge of the building, however, unlike when he did so in the building where he kept his sypder, this time he did not use his antigravity and density manipulation to reduce the speed of his fall.
He landed on his feet on the hot, hard street, a crashing sound filling the air, accompanied by the sounds of Christian's suit moving at a slow, gentle pace towards the horde.
Said horde reacted instantly to the sound of the ground beneath them breaking, their heads collectively immediately heading towards the source of the sound, allowing them to see Christian heading in their direction.
The wild, guttural growls only increased at this, the horde quickly began to move in their direction, their gait slow, but steady. In a way that only made it more terrifying, a march of death, which does not stop under any circumstances, except for two simple cases, its destruction or reaching its prey.
Faced with this whole situation, the only thing he could do was put the craziest smile possible on his face. Calculations were made in his head, all targets highlighted in yellow with their heads marked by a white cross.
"Submachine Gun Mode"
Their weapons were altered. The main barrel rejoins into one as it expands to almost twice its original length, the blade loses its protuberances, and the barrel covering it retracts back to its original position. The handle also changes slightly by creating a type of reinforcement on its back, as if it were a stock.
Without hesitation and hesitation, Christian aimed his newly changed weapons at the horde in front of him. A soft sigh left his lips and then she pressed the triggers on his weapons.
A tide of green lights came out shooting from them, each one having the shape of a 9mm bullet, a small and simple size for many, but given the fact of what the shots are made of and their fast rate of fire, such Things didn't matter much. His arms swing from side to side, delivering the shots left and right.
The sight of green lights flying at full speed, along with the sound they produce (a kind of whistle) is something wonderful to see and hear (it reminds you in a great way of New Year's...and when it caught fire), but it is even more the result it has against the zombies.
Destroyed is the only word to describe their states after being shot, their heads and much of their torso practically disappear upon mere contact with them, not only those who are shot receive damage, but also those close enough to those shot. , although in this case the majority lose limbs or large chunks of their faces.
The zombies in the front fall dead without any resistance or complaint, while those behind them maintain their advance without caring about anything beyond the desire to tear their flesh (it is not much) even as they walk over the dead bodies of their peers, the product of This fact, mounds of dead zombies begin to form, mounds that little by little begin to increase until they occupy a large part of the street.
The massacre (because there is no other way to describe it) lasted a total of 5 minutes, 5 full minutes of him shooting left and right like crazy at the zombie horde and everything around it, the last thing is mentioned due to the fact of the gigantic holes where the shots from their weapons impact as a result of passing through the zombies and continuing to fly.
When he finished, Christian just looked at the result of his work with a critical and thoughtful look, this is his first time using his weapons (they need a name) on a living being (not dead) and seeing the result of them, basically his power and capacity for destruction.
"Brilliant"
Moving along the path of death and destruction caused, he saw zombie corpses and mounds everywhere. Thanks to his scanners and his radar/sonar (in addition to the grunts they let out) he learned that under the mounds there are some living zombies (pun intended), they probably fell for whatever reason and began to be crushed under the mass of the falling corpses.
"Well, I think I can consider this a success as far as weapons testing is concerned," he said in a cheerful and happy tone. "Now let's clean this place."
The nanomachines that make up his pants quickly moved until they revealed his calves, and a kind of compartment opened. As if it were a marijuana room, a yellow gas quickly shot out from inside. This gas is the Kennedy substance, its substance kills zombies.
Upon coming into contact with the infected meat, it quickly began to destroy them at a molecular level, until nothing was left. To inexperienced eyes they appear as if they were decomposing at high speed until they did not even leave any dust.
Although the gas spread well across the open terrain, it still required movement around the place for it to work properly and not leave a single zombie, both dead and alive.
When he finished everything, he closed the compartments of his legs, so that they would then be covered again by the nanomachines.
A cloud of yellow gas was the only thing left to bear witness to what happened. Christian thought that in a way this counts as another experiment, specifically knowing how long the gas would last in an open place like this.
"Shit, I need a break."
Physically he doesn't really need it given the modifications to his body, however, on the mental side, he is absolutely exhausted, less from the massacre and more from the long and boring walks he had taken to get here (he had practically walked two full kilometers of pure boredom).
Deciding to take a moment of rest, Christian thought about where he should take said break (sitting outside in the streets, it's just an invitation to trouble, he didn't already have it because of all the noise he made), finally the answer to said The question arose when observing a convenience store on the left side of the street. He knew it was that kind of store from the large, dull 24/7 sign out front.
Approaching the store, he observed the state of it. This state is no different from the others in terms of being deteriorated and abandoned, however, it differs in the fact that the walls are made of (dirty) glass, a pair of double doors mark the entrance to the place. One thing to mention about the glass is that it is bulletproof, he wondered about the level of crime in the pre-apocalypse area.
Pushing the door in order to know if it is open or not, a soft rattling sound sounded to confirm its closed status.
Holstering his left weapon, the nanomachines covering his left hand slid off, revealing the cybernetic hand in the air. A small mouth opened from the middle of his finger, a series of small cables came out from inside, the finger and the cables were pressed against the lock of the place, the cables entered inside. Cracking sounds sounded and in an instant the door opened.
Happy with his work, he put the cables away, then closed the nozzle and let it be covered again. He unholstered his holstered gun and opened the door as he points inside it.
Of course and given his skills he knew that beyond the yellow dot at the back of the store, there are not really any enemies inside, this is just because of his childish taste. A bell rang as he entered.
The store itself is in relatively good condition, which given the fact that it had not apparently been looted or invaded by zombies, explains why. The only bad thing, to say the least, is the fact that there is no electricity, which means that anything that requires it must already be rotten, things like meat and so on.
"What a waste"
Ignoring that fact, the shelves of the store are full and overflowing with food of various types, mostly junk food, seeing this made him wonder how a place like this had not been looted/destroyed.
"Probably because of the glass and the horde"
Christian began to move towards the back of the store, although not before closing the door, not locking it or anything like that, the reason for this is due to the lack of threats on his map.
Going through the entire store, he came to a hallway with a door that, according to his map, leads to the next store, which his scanner revealed to be soundproof (I repeat who owned the store), which is why you can't hear the zombie. inside. Grabbing the door knob, I turn it to confirm its status, which unlike the main door is open, however, before opening the door I look at the map, to confirm the location of the zombie inside, said position. It is literally in front of the door.
"A quick execution then."
The door was opened without hesitation or fear and a zombie lunged at him. Christian responded by hitting him with his left weapon, the head and the weapon crashed into the wall, the head broke, scattering the remains of him on the floor and the wall and a hole in the shape of the base of a handle formed in the wall. .
As a result of this action, his weapon and hand were slightly stained with the remains of the zombie, this was not a problem given the cleaning function of his suit and weapon with the nanomachines that make them up.
Going through the door, he entered the back room. It is within what is expected in these places, a lot of boxes and piles of products (food, low-grade medicines, household things, etc.) spread throughout the room, which has no other shape. to access it beyond the door.
The place is fucking dark due to the lack of light, which given the power generator on one side of the room is funny. In any case, this lack of light did not affect Christian given the functions of his eyes, which changed to night vision.
He moved around the room, avoiding the various boxes on the floor until he reached spawn. It is about those lever generators that run on gasoline, its color is dull red and it is fucking dirty.
Holstering his left weapon, he repeated the process he did when he opened the front door of the store, only in this case no wires came out from inside his middle finger. Said finger directed him to the entrance where the fuel is deposited, he knew this thanks to his scanner that gave him a complete plan of it, which allowed him to know how little fuel he currently has, which is why he is doing what what you are currently doing.
Inserting my finger inside, I suck out a small amount of the flammable liquid. Data about its composition appeared in his vision, nodding at it, he quickly began the process of converting some of his energy into more of said compound.
Something that many forget about matter is that it can take/be in various states, so, under this logic, there would be no problem in which a matter-energy converter could generate liquids, even if they are relatively complex.
Once I finish creating a good amount of fuel, I deposit everything produced inside and remove my finger from the inside. The hand was covered again and he directed said hand towards the generator lever. A couple of pulls were necessary before it turned on, for the light to return to the spot.
Happy with his work, he let out a sigh and put a cheerful smile on his face at it.
"Okay, let's rest."
-------
Drinking hot beer is, as strange as it may sound, something Christian does a lot. The reason for this is due to the memory of him drinking beer secretly from his family when he was about 8 years old. Happy moments indeed, both because of how euphoric the beer made him and the simple excitement of doing something "forbidden" so to speak.
Sitting on the floor behind the counter, he took his fifth can of beer of the day from his lips. The taste, although ugly and sour, is simply divine in her current situation where she had not taken any liquid since her arrival. Not even eaten, but it was also solved in the form of a bag of chips next to him. Both the beer and the fries are from unknown brands, but edible nonetheless and that's what matters.
Thinking about food and drinks also brought up the topic that he would have to find some method by which he could transport all the loot he obtained today. Given this, the idea of building a mobile base arose in his head, something that would allow him to move from one place to another and be able to rest whenever he wanted in a safe place.
Given this idea, a lot of other ideas formed in Christian's mind, all of these ideas focused exclusively on how he should build said mobile base. Whether it was a simple truck or even a spaceship, multiple designs and shapes were displayed before him, each one more imaginative and crazy than the last and he liked that.
His thoughts about spaceships and crazy constructions were quickly cut off by the sound of a motorcycle approaching. On his map a red spot entered his range, said spot is approaching his direction at high speed.
Immediately after that, Christian unholstered his two weapons and took cover against the counter, so quick was his action and thought that he forgot to put his helmet back on. Moron.
The red dot stops in front of the store, the sound of the door opening serving as a reminder that this is happening, his first human contact in this world.
The human began to move around the store, the sound of a backpack opening and beginning to fill with the things from the store, he sensed that it was food given the sounds of cardboard packaging colliding with each other.
This fact bothered Christian greatly, the reasons why are clear. This is his loot and he was the one who had fought against the horde for the right to take over the site (although at first he didn't do it for that reason), a look of annoyance formed on his face.
He gently leaned out to look at the human, a tall man dressed in a blue trench coat with dark green checks over a sweater with a white hoodie, which is currently placed over his head, black pants, black and white tennis shoes and goggles, his mouth, beard and black hair were visible to the world. Memories of knowing those clothes and person come to Christian's head, but he does not know how to identify them.
Said man, as he had sensed, is currently looting everything possible from the site, eating mainly in a military green backpack. Given this fact the man is currently distracted from his surroundings, completely vulnerable to any attack/murder.
"First information, then see what to do with it"
With a grimace of annoyance on his face and making as little noise as possible, Christian comes out of his hiding place and sits on the counter with his weapons pointed at the man. It was during this process and upon feeling the air on his face that he realized that He doesn't have his helmet on, he cursed the serious carelessness, but still decided to continue with his plans.
"You know, friend, when you enter a place, it is polite to greet its occupants," he said in a funny tone.
The man jumped in fright at Christian's voice, he quickly turned around looking for the origin of the voice. As you make and meet his gaze with yours, the man stares at you intently. No words came out of his mouth, a look of confusion/disbelief forming on the man's face.
"Miller?" the man asked confused.
I raise my eyebrow at the name given by the man, because of his tone and way of saying it, as well as the fact that there are only the two of them, I sense that the man must be confusing him with another person...or actually the owner of this body.
Such a thing was a possibility that had been lingering in Christian's mind since he first learned that this was not his original body, the possibility that he had stolen someone else's body rather than a completely scratch one being given to him. I would have given.
"I know you?" He said false curiosity, since he had no memory of this body's life, it was best for him to fake amnesia/dementia to throw off anyone who might know the original owner.
A look of surprise appeared on the man's face, one that quickly changed to one that was a little more amused, but still nervous and serious.
"Miller, it's me. You, good old physical education teacher" The man lowered his hood and took off his glasses, revealing the face before him, a face he knows very well "See, it's me… Negan Smith"
-----
Hello how are you?
I hope you are good.
Fourth chapter of the fanfic, in this we can see how Christian explores his environment a little, kills some zombies, we see the operation of his equipment and finally meet an old acquaintance of both the soul that inhabits the body or the body that he possesses. For many, this chapter may seem like filler and it is in part, but it serves well for what comes next.
As always, I remind you that English is not my first language and I am open to criticism.
I've returned, after a month and a half, I've come back to continue this crazy story. First of all, I apologize for not giving any signs of life many personal things happened, as well as the fact that I didn't know what to write in the fanfic. This is the tenth version of the chapter.
I hope you enjoy it.
Disclaimer: I do not own the material used in this fanfic.
Sitting in front of a neglected wooden table, brown in color and dirty, with a slightly worn white cup filled with soup in front of him, Christian watched as Negan carefully helped his wife sit down in one of the chairs by the table, with as much care and love as possible. For Christian, who had always been something of a romantic, it was a pleasant scene to witness.
Once Lucille was settled, Negan slid one of the two cups on the table in front of her. Then, he moved to another chair and sat down, positioned along the vertical side of the table, opposite his wife. In front of him was also a cup of soup. Christian, meanwhile, sat at one of the ends of the table, creating a small distance between himself and the couple.
The reason he chose that spot was simple: although he had accepted Negan's offer, he still didn't fully trust them and preferred to maintain some distance. That was partly true, but it was mostly because Christian wasn't very skilled in social interactions.
For a moment, he wondered if this is how a "vengeful emo" would feel, though he regretted not having the typical attention-deficit girl by his side, the one that usually appears in these types of stories. At least, he consoled himself with the thought that he still had "hax."
Snapping out of his autistic thoughts, he observed Negan and Lucille. Both were casting discreet glances his way as they whispered to each other, as if debating how to start a conversation. Christian had a feeling they were whispering about his apparent amnesia, a topic that seemed to concern them.
Finally, Lucille broke the awkward silence. "So..." she began, her voice weak and hesitant. It was clear that both the cancer and her nerves were affecting her. As she spoke, she fiddled with the spoon, stirring the soup without taking a bite. "Negan told me you don't remember anything about your past."
Christian looked up and observed her silently for a moment. Although Lucille didn't show a visible reaction, the tension in her posture was palpable. Her face wore a thoughtful expression.
Christian raised his gaze toward Lucille, observing her silently for a moment. Although she showed no visible reaction, the tension in her posture was evident. Her face wore a thoughtful expression.
"Yes... I don't remember anything about my past," Christian said in a simple and reflective voice. If it weren't for his cranial implants, he would probably be laughing uncontrollably, as he wasn't capable of maintaining a serious attitude for long. "Oh, at least when it comes to personal things... I still retain basic memories about various skills, like writing, reading, cooking to some extent, doing laundry, and I have general knowledge about various technological fields, manipulating biology—both human and animal—and the functioning of my abilities."
"Wait, what do you mean by general knowledge of various technological fields, manipulating human and animal biology, and the functioning of your abilities?" Negan suddenly asked, his tone hurried and curious. The memory of Christian lifting a light post was still fresh in his mind.
At the time, due to the need to find supplies and the fact that they had found Alexander (Christian), Negan had ignored any strange details, along with the urge to leave before a horde of infected appeared. Essentially, he had seen Christian lift a light post as if it were made of papier-mâché. However, now, in a much safer environment, he could allow that memory to remain in his mind, and with it came growing curiosity. The mention of manipulating biology and the functioning of his abilities only increased his intrigue, although the technological knowledge didn't seem as surprising, given that Alexander already had some light knowledge of robotics and vehicle repair, due to his interest in these topics.
At the question, Christian's gaze shifted toward Negan. The faint light entering through the windows slightly illuminated his face, revealing a sort of metallic circle in the iris of his eyes for those paying close attention. Both Lucille and Negan noticed this but decided not to say anything. Christian prepared to tell the lie he had concocted to explain his bodily modifications and knowledge. While some might think he was rushing by partially revealing his condition and knowledge, he was aware that, since Negan had already seen him perform superhuman feats just a few hours ago—like lifting a post that outweighed the three of them combined—it was only a matter of time before Negan and Lucille asked more direct questions.
This would only increase the distrust between them, something Christian didn't want, both for personal reasons (since he was a fanboy of them) and to avoid problems. After all, he knew they would be willing to do whatever it took to get something he already had. In a way, he was confident they wouldn't harm him, and if they did... well, let's just say they'd have to say goodbye to a few of their limbs.
"What I said..." Christian began, raising an eyebrow and feigning a look of confusion, as if the words had just slipped out unintentionally, unsure whether what he had said was good or bad. "I don't know if this is common, but ever since I became aware, I realized I possess a vast range of knowledge—knowledge that I'm sure neither I nor anyone in this world should know."
"Why do you think that?" Lucille asked with curiosity. Negan simply observed him with an analytical look.
"Because if it were, which I doubt… the world wouldn't be in this state of decay. What I know… it just doesn't seem to fit with what I see around me. The buildings, vehicles, clothes, technology, everything… it just doesn't align with the vision and knowledge in my head." His gaze immediately shifted to Lucille. "For example, the fact that you have cancer should be impossible with the medical and technological knowledge I possess. Even if you contracted it for some reason… you should already be cured."
Christian noticed how his words impacted Lucille. Her face tensed almost imperceptibly, while Negan narrowed his eyes, visibly intrigued. Both remained silent, processing what they had just heard. Lucille, in particular, seemed more affected, likely due to the direct mention of her illness. A mental smile formed in Christian's mind; hope is a rather beautiful and poisonous thing in equal measure, like hemlock in summer—though in this case, it would only be slightly poisonous.
"Cured?" Negan was the first to speak, with a tone that mixed disbelief and skepticism.
Christian realized Negan was trying to remain calm, but there was a growing intensity in his words. Probably, a part of him wanted to cling to any hope, no matter how small. Guilt is a curious thing to observe, especially when you know that, beyond certain things, it's not your fault something is the way it is.
Something curious about this is that Negan wonders how Christian knows that, but he quickly assumes it's due to Lucille's visibly weakened state, though he's not entirely sure.
"Yes… cured," Christian confirmed in a soft, confused voice. A fake, nervous laugh escaped his mouth. "This… isn't normal… right?"
"No, it's not," Negan confirmed, his expression a strange mix of amusement, disbelief, and confusion. He had probably already gotten over the initial shock of Christian's words, which had struck as much because of what they said as because of who had said them (essentially Alexander). "Tell me, how do you know that this 'knowledge' you possess isn't just, you know, vague nonsense in your mind?"
A reasonable question, given how difficult it was to process what Christian had just said. Christian watched him in silence for a few seconds, letting Negan's question hang in the air. The disbelief and doubt were clear in his voice, but there was something else too: a kind of morbid curiosity and concern. It was obvious that Negan wanted to understand what was happening, if only to rule out the possibility that Alexander—or who he thought was Alexander—was going crazy. Which, given that he supposedly had amnesia, wasn't too far-fetched.
Finally, after a few seconds of silence, Christian let out a tired sigh and turned his gaze to Negan.
"Why..." He licked his lips with false nervousness. "You remember I mentioned that I also had knowledge about how my abilities work."
"Yes," Lucille admitted in a soft and weak voice. Negan nodded in confirmation. "I imagine that has something to do with the 'knowledge' you have in your head, right?"
"Yes, it does," Christian confirmed with a doubtful, thoughtful tone, resting his right elbow on the table and raising the rest of his arm. "Oh, at least that's the only explanation I have for this."
After saying those words, the nanomachines that made up Christian's clothing retracted from his right arm down to his elbow, revealing the fully black cybernetic limb made of Living Metal.
The silence that followed was so thick it seemed to fill the room. Negan and Lucille's eyes widened in shock as they stared at Christian's cybernetic arm, completely exposed. The black, metallic surface seemed to absorb light, as if it were a living entity in itself, heightening the sense of unreality.
Lucille was the first to break the silence with a stifled gasp. "Oh my God..." she murmured, her voice a mix of awe and terror. Her hands trembled slightly as she brought them to her mouth, as if she couldn't process what she was seeing.
Negan, on the other hand, said nothing at first. His eyes remained fixed on Christian's arm, while his mind raced to find a rational explanation for what was in front of him. He looked tense, his fists clenched on the table, but it wasn't fear that dominated him—it was disbelief, and perhaps a bit of fascination.
"Alex-Christian, damn it, what the hell happened to you?" Negan asked hurriedly. It was a miracle he didn't yell with each word, probably because he knew that making any kind of noise could attract walkers—or at least that's what Christian thought.
"I... I'm not sure," Christian replied hastily and nervously. "As far as I know, I was already like this when I woke up."
Negan audibly swallowed, his eyes still fixed on Christian's arm, as if he were trying to unravel the mystery just by staring at it. There were few things in the world that could truly unsettle him, and this was one of those moments—the biggest one, if he were honest, even more so than when the dead rose and started devouring people.
"More insane than the walking dead... damn," Negan muttered, still in shock. He ran a hand over his face, trying to organize his thoughts. It was as if everything he thought he understood about the world had changed in that instant.
Lucille, who had been silently watching from the table, was now much calmer than before, though that didn't mean she wasn't still tense.
"So... you woke up like this," Negan repeated, trying to sound calm. "You have no idea how... or why?"
Christian shook his head. Deep down, a part of him wished he could give the couple a more concrete answer, but due to the difficulty of doing so, he preferred to take this route. One that, though flawed, allowed for a great deal of flexibility.
"No... when I woke up in an alley near the store where you found me, I was already in this state." He placed his other arm on the table and repeated the same process as with the right one. "Which, apparently, is more complex than it seems."
"Of course it is," Negan muttered in a tired tone, while a playful smile formed in Christian's mind.
"What do you mean by that, Alex-Christian?" Lucille quickly corrected herself, still getting used to the new name.
"Well..." Christian began, his tone a bit more serious. "This is going to sound even stranger than what we've already talked about, but it seems my body is no longer completely human."
Negan raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Lucille, on the other hand, frowned, trying to process what she had just heard.
"It's not just my two arms that have been replaced," said Christian in a serious tone, pausing to make sure they were both following him. "My entire body has been modified, improved... or maybe I should say, transformed."
Lucille looked at him with wide eyes, visibly affected by what she was hearing.
"What... do you mean by 'transformed'?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Christian exhaled slowly before responding. He knew that what he was about to say would only create more problems, but it was better to address them immediately in a calm place than to deal with them amid senseless chaos.
"When I say my body has been transformed," Christian began, choosing his words carefully, "I mean that practically my entire organism has been improved or, rather, replaced by something more advanced. My arms, as you've already seen, aren't the only ones. My entire skeleton has been reinforced, including my spine and ribs. They're made of a material that... let's call it Living Metal."
Negan raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the name. "Living Metal?" he repeated, as if testing the term in his mind. "Did you get that from a movie or something?"
Christian smiled slightly, shaking his head. "No. It's something that came to mind when I woke up. This metal... is alive in a way. It adapts, repairs itself, and seems to interact with my body in ways that shouldn't be possible for an inert material. It feels like it's a part of me, not just a prosthesis."
Lucille nodded slowly, but she didn't seem any less disturbed. "So... your entire body is made of that metal?"
"Not all of it," Christian clarified. "My arms and legs are completely made of this metal, but it's not just that. My organs have also been replaced or modified. My heart, my lungs, everything is optimized to function better, more efficiently. In fact, I don't need to breathe, eat, sleep, or drink water like I used to. My body functions almost autonomously thanks to a generator in my chest that produces enough energy to keep me going, and a converter that can transform matter into energy and vice versa. Basically, it allows me to create anything I need."
Lucille frowned, clearly trying to process everything he was saying. "So... you're not completely human?"
"In some aspects, yes, I still am," Christian admitted, his eyes momentarily drifting. "I still have flesh organs. Some parts of me haven't been altered, like my reproductive organs. But everything else... is optimized. There's a computer in my brain, allowing me to process information faster, and a neural interface that connects me with available technology, like the suit and weapons I carry, plus my cybernetic eyes that allow a variety of visions, like X-ray, infrared, and others."
"So that's how you know Lucille has cancer," said Negan, as if clarifying it to himself, now understanding how Christian knew about Lucille's condition.
On Negan's side, the mention of weapons intrigued him. "Wait, weapons?" Lucille asked, confused and astonished, since Negan probably hadn't told her that Christian had pointed a gun at his face. It made sense, considering Christian hadn't left them alone to talk in private.
"Yes, weapons," Christian said, pulling the guns from their holsters and placing them on the table. Both of their attentions instantly heightened at this, likely out of fear of a potential hostile action. "Not just these, but also the ones integrated into my new limbs."
"They're nice," was all Negan could manage to say. Lucille gave an awkward smile. "Custom-made, I see... do they have names?"
"Technically, I don't know, but I've named them 'Death Packs,'" Christian replied with a touch of childish humor that seemed to align with his personality. Interestingly, both Negan and Lucille smiled at this, perhaps recalling a memory of the body's former owner. "They have the ability to transform into a wide variety of weapons with different types and capabilities. Their ammunition is pure energy."
"They sound dangerous," Lucille commented, joining the conversation as she began to eat her soup. It was a positive sign, given her weakened state. "You said you also have weapons in your limbs, right?"
"Yes, though more than weapons, they are mainly repair and maintenance tools," Christian replied calmly, also starting to eat his soup. It was mediocre and cold, but overall it was fine.
"So, that's how you repaired the truck we came in?" Negan asked with a playful tone as he too ate his soup.
"Yes, but overall, it was thanks to the matter converter and the generator that I was able to get it running, given both the dead battery and the lack of fuel," Christian explained.
"Interesting," Negan said, rubbing his chin in thought. "And the suit? From what you said earlier, it's connected to you too."
"Yes, it is," Christian confirmed with a smile on his face. He then put down the spoon and began showing his suit from the chest. "While it may look like a bunch of random clothing combined, you should know that all of this is made up of nanomachines that can transform into different types of clothing or gear as needed. In its current form, it's an advanced protective suit, but it can adapt to create survival systems like radar, heating, and more."
Negan raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "So, it's not just for protection but can adapt to different situations. That's pretty impressive."
"Yes," Christian confirmed. "It can change its shape and properties to suit whatever I need. Plus, the suit can create various devices, as long as I have the necessary energy and materials. This includes things like a shield generator or additional sensors."
"Must come in handy," Negan said in a sarcastic, amused tone.
"Yeah... it does," Christian confirmed, with a hint of amusement.
From there, though they didn't talk much more, the atmosphere in the room became more comfortable and relaxed. With almost all the suspense gone, Christian felt grateful for the change.
Once they finished eating, Negan helped Lucille move to the bed, then gently laid her down on the mattress. She clung to him with every movement he made. Christian found it curious how this contrasted with his memories from the "Here's Negan" episode, where a more advanced cancer-stricken Lucille was capable of doing more on her own. He attributed it to her still adjusting to the debilitating state of the illness, which had only been diagnosed two weeks earlier and treated by someone with no medical experience—just a calendar to guide them, if that was of any help.
Lucille didn't take long to fall asleep, which was understandable given the emotional rollercoaster she'd been through that day. Christian noticed she reminded him a lot of his mother from his past life, though he wasn't sure if it was due to some deep reminiscence of the body's former personality or simply a comparison. In any case, it made it easier for him to empathize with her.
"Chris," Negan spoke beside him. Christian wasn't surprised, thanks to his radar that detected Negan's presence. He turned his head to the right and looked up to meet his eyes. "Come on, let's talk."
Following Negan's words, Christian silently got up and followed him. They walked across the room until they reached the door, and then, once outside, they headed toward the stairs. The climb was slow and quiet, too slow for Christian's liking. A part of him thought it was because Negan wasn't in a hurry either.
Once in front of the door, Negan opened it and then locked it after both of them passed through. Throughout the process, he didn't say a word, just glanced at Christian a few times.
"Great, back to awkward situations," Christian thought sarcastically.
After locking the door, Negan led them to the living room and then approached the front door of the house. They both passed through without issue. The soft evening breeze began to blow, and the sun was slowly setting.
Once outside and with the doors locked, Negan headed toward the truck deep in the parking lot. He opened the truck's container and began searching through the boxes. After nearly two minutes in complete silence, he finally found what he was looking for: a bottle of beer, from a brand unknown to Christian. Negan tried to open it with a knife he had pulled out of his pocket, something curious considering he had taken the knife after finishing their meal. It was obvious why he had it.
The scene felt surreal to Christian, as if both were waiting for something bigger to be revealed while Negan struggled to pop open the bottle.
"Hey," Christian said, tired of the situation. "Give me that."
Without waiting for a response, Christian snatched the bottle from Negan. With a slight thought, he ordered the nanomachines in his suit to free his right hand. Then, from one of his fingers, cables emerged and quickly transformed into a bottle opener. The soft sound of the bottle cap popping off filled the air with a certain calm.
Once done, he offered the freshly opened beer to Negan. Negan looked at the beer with a mix of discomfort and frustration before sighing wearily, rubbing his face, and taking the beer from Christian's hand.
He brought the bottle to his lips immediately, taking a long, deep swig, as if trying to drown any troubling thoughts swirling in his mind. The atmosphere remained charged with a strange tension despite the apparent calm.
"Thanks," Negan finally murmured, setting the bottle aside. His voice was somewhat muted, as if he was more focused on his thoughts than on the conversation. Sitting on the edge of the container only reinforced that idea.
"You're welcome," was Christian's simple response, his voice bored and indifferent.
Neither of them said anything else. It was evident that the old tension between them was beginning to return, and it didn't seem like it would go away, given their lack of initiative. Negan stared at the ground, lost in thought, while Christian divided his attention between monitoring his surroundings through his radar, checking on Sypder's status, which was in good condition, and planning his next steps.
"Blue," Negan said, breaking the silence. "Your eyes… well, at least Alexander's eyes were blue. Yours… are brown."
Christian looked at him, blinking a couple of times, clearly surprised by the direction the conversation had taken.
"Yeah… they are," Christian murmured quietly. He cursed himself for not thoroughly checking the eye color of this body when he created new ones. In his excitement over his new abilities, he had forgotten to verify that detail. He felt stupid for it.
"It's… strange, you know?" Negan began, his voice melancholic and thoughtful. "When I first found you and saw those eyes and the things you did, I knew right away you weren't Alexander… or at least not the one I knew. But still, I made the decision to bring you here, to my home, to the place I share with the most important person in my life."
Christian listened in silence, his gaze fixed on Negan as his thoughts swirled. Sure, he could understand that Alexander's body had caused confusion, but Negan spoke as if merely existing in this body was an enigma for him. It wasn't just the eye color that seemed to matter. Negan continued, taking another long drink before speaking again.
"A memory, that's what I had when I saw you. A memory of something from before all of this, before the day the whole world went to hell and the woman I love got sick."
Christian remained silent, allowing Negan to unload what seemed to have been building up for quite some time.
"Alexander… he was part of that past, that life that no longer exists. A scrawny, weak kid who could always manage to smile even after everything life threw at him."
Christian raised an eyebrow at this new information about the past life of the body he now inhabited. His curiosity was immediately piqued, but he decided to let Negan continue rather than interrupt with questions.
"I thought that if I brought you here, even when all my senses were telling me it was a bad idea, that same energy to smile would rub off on us." He let out a soft snort. "What a fool I was."
"Hey, you tried to hold on to hope," Christian replied softly. "That's never a bad thing."
"No, it isn't," Negan agreed with a hint of amusement in his tone. "But you can't deny that under other circumstances, things would've ended badly."
Christian didn't respond. He couldn't blame Negan, considering his own thoughts about what he'd do if things didn't turn out well were quite similar. Negan took another sip of his beer, which was almost gone by now.
"I don't trust you," Negan stated honestly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I just can't. Your face, your abilities, your body… it's all too strange. It's like I'm talking to some altered version of Alexander straight out of a sci-fi movie."
"And that's perfectly valid," Christian agreed. Honestly, if he were in Negan's shoes, in a post-apocalyptic world, caring for the only loved one he had left, and suddenly came across someone from the past transformed into something so inhuman, he'd probably lose his mind too.
"Thanks for understanding," Negan said, a slight, calm smile on his face, as if putting his thoughts into words had brought him some relief.
Christian nodded silently, watching as that smile slightly softened the atmosphere between them. Though the tension still lingered, something about that gesture eased the moment. Maybe, after all, it wasn't impossible to build some kind of mutual understanding, which was a positive step for Christian's long-term goals. Finally, Negan set the empty bottle aside and stood up.
"Anyway, I didn't bring you out here just to have this talk." Negan stretched, making his bones crack. "As you've probably seen, there's a lot of work to do here: transporting supplies, setting up defenses, and finding fuel for the vehicles and the generator I use to keep Lucille's chemotherapy going. I wanted to know if you could help me with all that."
"Yeah, sure," Christian nodded, accepting. "What should I do first?"
"Well, from what I understood from your explanation, you have the ability to create anything, right?" Negan asked calmly.
Christian tilted his head and then nodded.
"In theory, yes," he replied, keeping his tone neutral. "I can create anything as long as I have the necessary energy and matter, the time, and I know the composition of the object to be created. In fact, the gasoline we used for the truck was made by me."
Negan raised an eyebrow, surprised by the revelation.
"You made the gasoline?" he asked, clearly impressed.
"Yes," Christian confirmed calmly. "The chemical composition of gasoline is simple compared to other things. I just had to use part of the energy I had available to transform it."
Negan crossed his arms, processing the information.
"That's… incredible," he admitted. "So, if you can do something like that, you could create other supplies too, right? Medicine, fuel, weapons if needed."
"Correct," Christian replied. "As long as I have the right energy and materials. However, the bigger or more complex the thing I try to create, the more it costs me in terms of energy and time."
Negan rubbed his chin, thoughtful, before looking at him intently, as if suddenly remembering something.
"During lunch, you mentioned that you had knowledge of how to create a cure for cancer, right?"
"Yes," Christian answered seriously. "I have advanced knowledge in biotechnology and genetics. Creating something like a cure for cancer is entirely within my capabilities."
Negan was momentarily surprised by the response but quickly recovered.
"How long would it take you to create something like that?" he asked curiously. "And if you can do it, what would you need?"
"A day, at most," Christian replied honestly. "As for what I'd need... just time and a few data points. The rest, I have right here."
Christian tapped his chest lightly, right where his heart should be. The gesture brought an amused smile to Negan's face, accompanied by a soft, calm snort.
"We'll talk to Lucille about this tomorrow," Negan said in a soft, almost whispering tone. "I'm sure she'll be happy to hear it."
Christian simply nodded, understanding the meaning behind Negan's words. For him, curing Lucille was just another task within his capabilities, but he knew for Negan, it was something much deeper.
"I'm sure she will be," Christian said with a smile. "Oh, and by the way, Negan, not only do I have the cure for cancer, but I also have one to prevent death by bites from those things."
Negan fell silent for a few seconds before bursting into a low, contagious laugh—the kind that sounds like a drunk uncle at Christmas. Good memories from his past life surfaced in Christian's mind: one where they pulled a tooth out with pliers… strange memories, but good ones nonetheless.
"You're a box of surprises, kid… or maybe salvation, to be honest," Negan said, still amused. He stood up with determination, shaking off the melancholy of the previous conversation. "Well, let's go. We've got work to do."
From that moment on, both of them set to work on various tasks. They moved all the supplies from the truck inside the house, reinforced the fence on the left side of the property, and created small barriers made of stainless steel. Christian had wanted to use Living Metal, but due to his lack of practice creating more complex things, he opted for something simpler. These barriers included spikes designed to impale any walker that approached, along with metal wires holding small bells to alert them to any intruders, though this last part was more for the human inhabitants of the house than for him. They also welded these barriers to the windows, using the welding tools integrated into Christian's arms.
Additionally, they filled the energy generator's tank, using the same process they had used to fill the truck's tank. This time, Negan watched closely as Christian worked, and Christian couldn't help but feel a strange sense of pride from being watched that way. To avoid attracting more walkers with the noise of the generator, Christian also created a soundproof box in which they stored it.
When they finished all the tasks and dusk began to settle, both of them entered the house and headed to the basement. Upon entering the room, they saw Lucille sleeping peacefully in her bed.
"Chris, set the table; we're having soup again," Negan said, calling Christian by his nickname, a sign that the trust between them was beginning to return. "I'll wake Lucille up so she can eat."
Christian nodded and moved toward one of the drawers in the room. When he opened it, he found a set of utensils: forks, knives, and a few spoons. He took out three spoons, closed the drawer, and placed them on the table. Then he went to the soup box in the room, taking out three cans from inside. He opened them using his cybernetic fingers, digging into the tops of the cans and twisting them until they popped open. He wondered what the Necron would think if they knew he was using their precious building material to open simple aluminum cans. Christian thought it would be something fun to see.
He placed the cans on the table and put a spoon in each one. Then he sat down in the same spot he had occupied during lunch. He finished just in time to see a freshly awakened Lucille being guided to the table by Negan. She still looked a bit dazed from sleep, but her confusion quickly faded when she saw Christian sitting there. A pure expression of disbelief appeared on her face as she realized he was real and that what happened during lunch had indeed occurred.
"It wasn't a dream, was it?" she asked softly, more to herself than anyone else. Christian let out a gentle laugh.
"No, it wasn't, babe," Negan replied in a playful tone. Lucille looked at him, rolling her eyes with an expression that indicated both fatigue and affection.
Without further words, Lucille sat at the table with Negan's help. Unlike the previous lunch, this time there were no awkward questions or tense moments. The atmosphere was more familial, more relaxed. They ate in silence, enjoying each other's company and forgetting, at least for a moment, the worries of survival and future problems. Christian wished with all his might that it wouldn't be the last time something like this happened. Only time would tell if he was willing to fight to maintain that little oasis of peace.
Sitting on the roof of the Smith house, Christian gazed at the starry sky with a thoughtful expression. Since his awakening in that alley, or more specifically, since he lost his fingers, he had quickly understood the kind of world he had been reincarnated into.
An apocalyptic world with zombies. One of the classics when telling stories about the end of the world. A place where the only thing that matters is survival, which, ironically, isn't much different from normal life. It's just that in this world, one must constantly worry about the undead (a contradiction in itself), cannibals, and other humans willing to rob, kill, rape, or simply murder you. Something that, curiously, also happens in a normal world. In some way, this apocalypse is just a reminder of the cruel nature of humanity.
In these types of scenarios, the genre is often divided into two main categories, with some rather curious niche subcategories. Both directly contrast each other, representing absolute opposites.
The first category is the classic "hero's journey." A chosen protagonist who, despite adversities, has the mission of saving the world. They rescue people, form alliances, maybe a band or a group of survivors, and try to restore the natural order of things. Although, of course, that "natural order" is more a matter of perspective than reality. In these types of stories, the hero has a clear, almost predestined purpose. The conflicts are tough, but there is always hope, a light at the end of the tunnel.
The second category is its total opposite: a "grimdark" world, where everything is a disaster and nothing gets better. Here, any attempt to change things is futile because fate is cruel, and there is no redemption possible. Characters struggle and suffer only to see everything crumble over and over again. It is the very nature of the world that opposes change, and if something does change, it's likely for the worse.
The world of The Walking Dead is a mix of both categories, although it leans more toward the latter. There are moments when it seems things could improve, small glimpses of humanity and hope, but there is also a constant sense of hopelessness. The characters are not heroes destined to save the world; they are survivors, fighting to get through one more day. And sometimes, decisions that seem right only end up making the situation worse. A good example of this is Carol and her talk with the children.
There were no certainties here, only chaos and tough decisions. A world that, although it might seem stable on the surface, hid a devastating truth: humanity was doomed to watch the dead rise and devour the living, and any attempt to rebuild civilization collapsed quickly. Not only due to the zombies, which were already a problem with their overwhelming numbers, but also because of the humans themselves with their agendas. There was the Civic Military Republic, with its obsession for destroying settlements due to limited resources or some other reason that Christian admitted he didn't quite remember. Then there were the Wolves and Teddy's Cult: the former convinced that civilization was an aberration, and the latter bent on exterminating everyone to restart the world from scratch. Not to mention the French and their damned modified virus.
It was a world condemned to stagnate and rot... at least for flesh-and-blood beings. Perhaps for plants and other organisms, this place would be a paradise. Rotten nature.
But all of this was true only until Christian's arrival.
He knew that his mere existence altered the rules of the game. As he reflected on the situation, he couldn't help but think that although this world seemed doomed to eternal deterioration, he had the ability to change it.
Thanks to the Celestial Forge and the technology it offered him, Christian was completely confident that the capacity to rebuild civilization was within his reach. Not just to restore it to what it once was, but to improve it in ways the world had never seen. Perhaps not in the social sphere, because frankly he didn't consider himself capable of that, and even if he were, it would likely result in something rather strange. But when it came to technology, there was no one in this world who could rival what he possessed... or at least, as far as he knew.
Clean, self-sufficient energy, nanomachines, advanced medical systems, impenetrable defenses against the undead and even against the living, weapon creation... That was the opportunity before him: to transform this apocalypse into a new era of progress. A turning point in human history.
"Are we really going to play at being the Emperor of Mankind during the Unification Wars?" His inner voice chimed in with a question full of skepticism.
"Wasn't that always the plan?" Christian replied, feeling genuine curiosity. The idea of creating a base, a safe place from which he could start building a civilization, had always been on his mind. Or at least, vaguely.
"Yes, but at first you only wanted to do it to seduce a black girl and because of your delusions of grandeur," his inner voice retorted mockingly.
"Hey, that hasn't changed," he responded immediately, somewhat annoyed. "This is just, you know... leveling up."
"Alright, but don't forget the important part... Ebony," his inner voice added with unexpected seriousness.
"Ebony," Christian agreed solemnly.
Rising from the roof where he had been sitting, he walked to the edge and let himself drop. Thanks to his anti-gravity technology, his descent was slow and silent, which was useful since he didn't want to disturb the couple inside the house. Negan and Lucille had offered him their upstairs room to sleep, although he had insisted he didn't need to sleep. Once his feet touched the ground, he stretched a couple of times, as a mental warm-up for what was to come next.
At the speed of thought, a crack in space-time opened before Christian, revealing the entrance to his trusted Augmentation Room. On his radar, green lights suddenly appeared, indicating the presence of allies.
"Come on, Scarabs," he ordered loudly, although it wasn't necessary; he just liked to do it.
Christian watched with satisfaction as the Canoptek Scarabs quickly emerged from the Augmentation Room. These small machines moved with precision and impressive speed, advancing like a mechanical storm. It wasn't hard to understand why, in the Warhammer 40k universe, humans felt terror at the sight of those creatures approaching. Though small, their appearance and mechanical movements were intimidating.
The Scarabs stopped around him, standing still, waiting for his orders. They were ready to obey each of his commands without hesitation.
"Alright," Christian murmured, closing his eyes to calm his thoughts. When he opened them again, he focused on the small creatures before him. "It's time to start."
A series of detailed blueprints and schematics were sent to the Scarabs almost instantaneously. Upon receiving the instructions, they moved with speed and perfect synchronization to execute the construction projects. The process was quick and precise, with no errors or obvious problems. The efficiency of the machines was incomparable to that of an ordinary human.
A playful smile appeared on Christian's face as he imagined Negan's reaction when he showed him what he had done the next day. It would surely be entertaining to see, or at least he hoped so.
Author's Notes: Hello, how are you? I hope you're doing well.
This is the sixth chapter of the fanfic, where we see Christian interacting with the Smith family and gathering more information about the life of the body he now possesses. It also reveals some of his skills and capabilities.
I must confess that, overall, I am not very satisfied with this chapter. There's something that bothers me throughout the text, from the forced nature of some conversations to how rushed it feels at times. I also feel there are missing reactions and that the plot doesn't progress as much as it should. It seems like there is a lot of filler and the quality is below what I would like. However, I decided to publish it anyway, partly because someone suggested that I shouldn't get discouraged and should post what I have that is decent.
As always, I remind you that English is not my first language, and I am open to criticism. I have been using AI to correct errors, but there is still room for improvement.
He was back, this time in a much shorter period and with something longer. With his schedule having cleared significantly, he was able to write relatively well. He hoped everyone would enjoy it.
Disclaimer: I do not own the material used in this fanfic.
Sitting on the roof of the Smith house, Christian gazed at the sunrise. The sun was rising in the distance, about 149.6 million kilometers, or 93 million miles, away, if his calculations were correct. He let out a relaxed sigh as he brought a cup of hot coffee to his lips. The warmth flowed down his throat, offering a sensation that, although familiar, felt strange for someone like him.
His cybernetic eyes, known as Argos, automatically adjusted, capturing every detail kilometer away. They analyzed the density of the air, the ambient temperature, and possible nearby threats. However, there was nothing out of the ordinary, just an ordinary sunrise, though Christian could no longer perceive things with the same simplicity as before.
Around him, his Scarabs, small insectoid machines, moved back and forth without apparent purpose. To an inexperienced eye, they seemed to wander aimlessly, but the reality was different. The Scarabs patrolled randomly, monitoring the perimeter he had established, ready to detect and neutralize any intruder that escaped their sensors, though he doubted the existence of anything like that in this world.
When Christian spoke of the "perimeter," he referred to a massive wall of Living Metal that he had erected. Standing 30 meters tall and covering an area of 80 square meters, the wall surrounded the Smith house and a considerable portion of the surrounding land, especially the sides and the back. The front, on the other hand, had only a small section of the barrier so as not to obstruct the main road. In that section stood the only vehicle door.
Constructing a fortification of such magnitude was no mere whim, but a necessity. The vast space within had to be sufficient for various tasks, such as creating a laboratory where Christian could conduct experiments and develop new technologies. It would also serve as an improvised clinic to attend to people like Lucille and Negan. The reason he wanted to use his Augmentation Room for this purpose was simply that he was unsure how they would react to it. Dealing with an amnesiac cyborg who shared the face of someone familiar was one thing; confronting a pocket dimension filled with advanced technology was entirely different.
Christian sighed again, contemplating everything he had built and what still remained to be done as the sun continued its ascent, illuminating the vast horizon before him.
An energy generator, which Christian had named the Ener Generator, along with a modified matter-energy converter known as the Matner Converter, served as the pillars of his technological infrastructure. Both devices were designed to ensure that he never had to worry about resource scarcity.
The Ener Generator, or more accurately, the Ener Generator model 2.0, was, as its name indicated, an energy generator. It operated through a variety of mechanisms, such as the absorption of ambient radiation in the form of gamma or electromagnetic radiation, or the decomposition of organic and inorganic matter into its basic components—namely, atoms. These atoms were then used in nuclear fusion and fission processes, generating enormous amounts of energy. Additionally, the matter-energy converter of the generator, due to its conversion capabilities, allowed any waste to be reused in a closed cycle. The generator was also equipped with nanomachines powered by the generated energy, which took care of repairing any damage the device might suffer.
The Ener Generator resembled a black cylinder with green stripes coursing along its surface, which appeared to pulse with energy. Its dimensions were imposing, standing 30 meters tall and 20 meters in circumference. On its surface were a series of buttons with various functions, such as turning the device on and off, and a hatch where any material intended for decomposition or conversion into atoms or energy could be inserted. This version of the generator was a significant upgrade from the one Christian had once carried within his body, before replacing it with this more powerful and efficient version.
On the other hand, the Matner Converter allowed for the transformation of any type of matter into energy and vice versa. This meant that if he ever needed a specific material, whether organic or inorganic, he could simply convert it from whatever he had on hand. Thus, he optimized resources to the maximum, eliminating the need for external supplies, except in cases of certain basic elements, such as the blueprints or data for what he wished to create. The Matner Converter had a shape similar to that of a large black oven with yellow lines, measuring 20 meters long, 5 meters high, and 4 meters deep.
Together, the Ener Generator and the Matner Converter formed a self-sufficient network that ensured the sustainability of all of Christian's systems. Among these systems were his laboratory, the Smith house (though its inhabitants were still unaware), and the complex defense system he had implemented at the site.
The defense system encompassed a wide variety of devices. From an energy field that covered the entire property to hidden energy turrets along the wall, a series of sensors, radars, and cameras that recorded everything happening 24/7, and non-lethal proximity mines designed to only sever a limb in the worst-case scenario. Everything was meticulously planned to ensure the security and self-sufficiency of his territory, leaving little to nothing to chance.
Upon hearing all this, one might think it was logical to need so much space to manage all the technology and advanced devices that Christian had implemented. However, curiously enough, the real reason behind such a need for space was the Canoptek Spyder, which currently rested on the ground. This gigantic automaton remained completely motionless, emitting small metallic sounds as its systems entered standby mode. It had only been an hour since it had entered this state, having produced the largest number of Scarabs it had ever created. Those Scarabs, now enhanced compared to their original versions, served as silent guards and mechanics, patrolling and maintaining the site in perfect condition.
Christian had managed to bring the Canoptek Spyder from the roof, where he had found it, to its current location without much difficulty. Although the process was technically complex, for someone with his technological capability, it boiled down to a few basic steps. First, he built a communication antenna advanced enough to interact with the signals of his own technology. Then, he expanded the connection range, which was already considerably wide, allowing the signal to reach the Spyder. With everything in place, he sent the precise coordinates of the site to the colossal robot.
The entire process, from constructing the antenna to the arrival of the Spyder, took just two hours. A surprisingly short time considering the magnitude of the task and the distance the Spyder had to travel. But what was most impressive was how Christian managed everything without drawing anyone's attention. For obvious reasons, he had given an additional order to the Spyder: to ascend to the troposphere during its journey. Thus, the enormous robot could travel undetected, ensuring its presence remained a secret, or so Christian hoped.
He didn't want anyone—absolutely anyone—to know about the Spyder's existence before the time was right. He would only reveal its presence when everything was in place: a safe location to settle, the main group on his side, and most importantly, when he had built an army of robots that responded solely to his will. If all went according to plan, those robots would resemble one of his favorite fictional designs, directly inspired by the video game Nier Automata…2P.
His chocolate-infused robotphile (GLORY TO ROBUSSY) thoughts were quickly interrupted when the radar began to pick up movement inside the Smith house. Immediately, a playful smile formed on his face.
"So, they're awake," he murmured with satisfaction, his voice low but filled with an almost childlike excitement, eagerly anticipating what would come next.
Watching the radar projected on his HUD, Christian tracked the movement of one of the red dots that stood out on his detailed 3D map of the site, which he had created upon arriving at the house. The dot rose from the bed, and he quickly identified it as Negan. Moving through the house with a predictable routine, he saw him head toward the bathroom. It only took a few seconds for Negan to come back out, and it didn't require much imagination to guess what he had been doing.
Next, Negan began to move methodically. First, he went toward a piece of furniture, likely in search of cutlery or utensils, and then approached a box, searching for something specific. Finally, Christian watched as he made his way to the dining room, capturing every little movement with the surgical precision of his sophisticated sensors.
In front of the house, Christian took a last sip of his coffee, savoring the flavor for a brief moment before taking a completely carefree action. He tossed the cup behind him with the same calmness he had displayed while descending from the roof. Upon hitting the ground, the cup shattered into a thousand pieces, spilling coffee in the process.
Without paying much attention, the Scarabs—efficient and silent—sprang into action. Like a perfectly choreographed routine, they pounced on the fragments of the cup and the remnants of the coffee. They swiftly decomposed and consumed the waste, transforming it into reusable energy. The entire process was quiet, almost imperceptible, as the Scarabs cleaned up the mess.
For Christian, this was the most normal thing in the world. He was entirely oblivious to the broken cup and the spilled coffee, focusing instead on something else. He began to walk toward the entrance of the house, but before entering, he stopped next to one of his latest creations, which rested on a metal table by the stairs.
He picked up the machine he had named the Food Fabricator and observed it with satisfaction. At first glance, the device resembled a futuristic microwave, albeit slightly larger. It measured approximately 62 cm long, 35 cm high, and 40 cm deep. Its design was compact and efficient, enveloped in a sleek black color that highlighted the robust material from which it was made. Blue stripes ran along its surface, giving it a modern and aesthetic touch. On the front, a bulletproof glass door allowed a glimpse inside, while to the right, a screen and several buttons with detailed inscriptions made it clear that this "microwave" was much more than it appeared at first glance.
The Food Fabricator, as its name suggested, could produce any food item registered in its database. Thanks to the combination of the Generator Ener and the Converter Matner, there were no limits to the complexity or rarity of the recipes. As long as there was available matter or energy, Christian could ensure that food would never be lacking. Additionally, the device had the capacity to heat or cool whatever was necessary according to the user's preferences, making its utility almost infinite within the context of his self-sufficient technological infrastructure.
With a satisfied smile on his face, Christian loaded the appliance onto his left shoulder and headed toward the house, making his way to the basement. As he advanced, he noticed on his radar that one of the red dots, representing human presences inside the house, began to ascend the stairs. The other dot, which remained motionless at the dining room table, indicated that Lucille was already awake and that Negan was likely going upstairs to either wake her or, more probably, to inform her that breakfast was ready.
His assumption was confirmed when, upon reaching the basement door, he saw the dot stop right in front of it. The door opened with a slight hesitation, as if the person on the other side had paused for a moment, uncertain of what they might find. Christian observed attentively the contrast between the Negan who led the Saviors and the Negan who lived with Lucille. It was... fascinating how a person could change so much due to trauma and the desperation of having nothing to lose. However, if things went as he hoped, such a fate wouldn't be necessary for Negan.
With curiosity, Christian watched as Negan appeared, still in his pajamas, peeking through the door. He wore blue shorts, a white T-shirt, and socks. Their gazes crossed briefly, and Christian, unable to help himself, broke into a playful smile.
"Hello, Negan," he greeted, raising a hand cheerfully. "Good morning."
Negan looked at him for a few seconds, still somewhat bleary-eyed from sleep, before letting out a long yawn. He scratched the back of his head, clearly still half-asleep.
"Good morning, Chris…" Negan murmured, blinking as he tried to clear his mind. His gaze landed on the device Christian carried on his shoulder. "And what's that?"
"Oh, one of my latest creations!" Christian replied, almost bouncing with excitement; his enthusiasm was unmistakable.
Negan, with the patience of someone who had just woken up, took a quick look at the device before sighing tiredly. "Alright… come on, breakfast is ready," he said finally, turning around and beginning to head down the stairs at a leisurely pace.
Christian followed Negan without hesitation, descending the stairs until they reached the dining room. Upon opening the door, his gaze immediately settled on Lucille, who sat drowsily in one of the chairs at the table. She wore a light robe, and beneath it, a pink nightgown that reminded Christian of a similar one his mother used to wear in his previous life. The memory was brief, but it left him with a strange feeling.
He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the bowl of soup in front of Lucille. He understood the logic: in difficult times, rationing food was crucial for survival. However, concern flooded him as he considered the unhealthiness of such a limited diet in the long run. Deficiencies in vitamins and minerals could weaken Lucille even more, something that unexpectedly irritated him, though he couldn't decipher why.
Lucille lifted her gaze and offered him a weak smile that resembled more of a plea. Christian felt a knot form in his stomach at the sight of her condition.
"Good morning… Chris," Lucille greeted him with her soft, fragile voice. "Uh… what is that?" she added, pointing at the machine on his shoulder.
Negan also noticed the device as he approached the table. Even after sitting down, he couldn't take his eyes off the apparatus.
"Oh, it's my latest creation," Christian responded exuberantly, unable to hide his excitement. "I call it the Food Fabricator."
Negan and Lucille exchanged glances, both raising an eyebrow. Their expressions showed a mix of curiosity and slight disbelief, as if they already anticipated some surprise or madness from Christian.
"It's nice, but… what does it do?" Negan asked with a hint of caution, clearly expecting Christian to unveil one of his unexpected revelations.
Christian grinned mischievously, savoring the moment. Without saying another word, he stepped closer to the table and placed the Food Fabricator on it. The weight of the device caused a soft creak in the wood, something Christian mentally noted as a reminder to add anti-gravity technology in future versions. Despite this minor inconvenience, the machine remained stable.
"Oh, see for yourselves," he said with a mysterious smile.
Christian picked up the bowl that was in front of him, which he assumed was his, and pressed the "Activate" button on the front of the apparatus. The blue lines on the fabricator began to glow softly, illuminating as if the device was coming to life. Then, he pressed the "Open" button, causing the armored glass door to slide outward with a gentle click.
"Just wait and see what it can do," he said with a tone charged with anticipation.
Negan's and Lucille's eyes remained fixed on the machine, clearly intrigued by what was about to unfold.
Christian placed the bowl inside the machine without hesitation, closed the door, and pressed a button labeled "Analyze." The machine responded with an almost imperceptible hum, and a small screen on the front displayed a meter that quickly filled up, going from 1 to 100 in a matter of seconds. Throughout the entire process, neither Negan nor Lucille made the slightest movement, both too astonished to eat or even interrupt. The scene held them completely captivated.
Once the analysis was complete, Christian continued seamlessly. He pressed the button that read "Heat," followed by several numbers on the machine's numeric keypad. Finally, he tapped the button that said "Start." The apparatus emitted its characteristic hum again, and a countdown of ten seconds appeared on the screen.
When the timer reached zero, the machine emitted a soft beep, indicating that the process was complete. Filled with satisfaction, Christian pressed the "Open" button while Negan's and Lucille's eyes followed each of his movements intently.
The door opened, revealing the bowl inside, the contents of which, a chicken soup, were now hot.
"Voilà, hot food," Christian said with a smile as he took the bowl and placed it on the table.
Lucille and Negan said nothing; they simply stared at the bowl for several seconds. Negan reached out and placed his hand on top of it.
"It's hot," he remarked simply, though a hint of surprise tinged his voice. His gaze shifted to Christian. "So, you created a portable microwave?"
Christian, aware that the machine lacked a plug yet had still managed to heat the food, understood why Negan thought that. However, it didn't mean he wasn't annoyed.
"No," he huffed playfully, crossing his arms. "It's much more than that."
He pressed the buttons again, this time selecting the "Select" option. The screen changed to display an image of a bowl with the words "chicken soup" above it. After that, he pressed the "Start" button, and the machine began to hum again.
Unlike previous times, this time the time was measured in minutes instead of seconds—one minute, to be exact. A full minute during which the machine buzzed, accompanied by soft sounds of something being created inside.
When the timer reached zero again, the apparatus emitted another soft beep. Christian, filled with a mix of pride and anticipation, pressed the "Open" button. Negan and Lucille, not taking their eyes off him, remained fascinated by every movement Christian made.
The door opened, revealing a new bowl inside the machine, identical to the previous one, filled with hot chicken soup. Steam slowly rose from the surface of the broth.
"Freshly created chicken soup," Christian presented the bowl to the couple with a smile.
Lucille and Negan exchanged glances, surprised. Negan, who seemed the most affected by the moment—at least judging by his expression and his more active state—slowly moved his hand over the newly created bowl, feeling the warmth emanating from the soup. An expression of wonder and, for the first time in a long while, relief reflected on his face. Without saying anything, he looked back at Christian, his eyes making it clear that he was impressed beyond words.
"Did you really… create it out of nothing?" Negan finally asked, still processing what he had witnessed.
Christian nodded with a proud smile.
"Well, technically, yes," he replied casually, though the sparkle in his eyes revealed how much he enjoyed the moment. His gaze focused on both of them. "As I mentioned, I have a set of 'knowledge' in my head, and that knowledge includes the technologies that currently compose my being, like the matter-energy converter you've already seen, Negan."
Negan nodded slowly, still trying to process what Christian was telling him. His eyes drifted to the machine and then back to Christian, as if searching for a way to understand its workings.
"Yeah… I remember," he said in a simple and somewhat tired voice. "You didn't mention you could make food."
"Well, food is technically matter," Christian shrugged. "So, as I told you, as long as I have the data about it and its composition, and the energy to make it, creating it is just a matter of time."
"I see," Negan replied, his voice sounding a bit dazed.
What seemed like an awkward silence was about to begin; however, it was quickly interrupted by Lucille's gentle voice.
"So, can you make coffee?" Lucille asked calmly, a playful smile marking her face.
"Yes," Christian replied cheerfully. He pressed the buttons on the machine again and began preparing coffee. Once it was finished, he poured the drink into a typical coffee mug, took it out of the machine, and handed it to Lucille. She quickly and without hesitation took several sips of the drink.
"It's… perfect," Lucille said after a few sips, a genuine smile on her face. The coffee brought her visible relief, perhaps more psychological than physical, but at that moment, any small comfort was significant.
Christian crossed his arms, feeling a playful joy.
"I'm glad you like it," he replied, experiencing a sense of accomplishment as he watched how his invention had brought happiness to someone.
Negan, though still seemingly processing what he was witnessing, let out a soft laugh, a mix of relief and humor.
"What else can you do with that thing?" he asked, unable to hide a broader smile. "Because if you tell me, you can make a good steak, then you'll really have me impressed."
A soft snort escaped Christian's lips at Negan's words; he knew full well that the man was only trying to be funny to ease his nerves, and he was happy to help.
"Well, if you have patience and I manage to find some beef to analyze, we can give it a try," he replied with a playful look. "But I warn you, I'm more of a tech creator than a chef, so I can't guarantee it'll taste good."
Negan let out a more relaxed laugh this time, shaking his head.
"Well, I'm not that picky. As long as it doesn't taste like cardboard, I'll be happy," he said, leaning back in his chair and letting out a short chuckle while looking at Christian with a mix of amusement and joy.
"I'll see what I can do, Mr. Smith," Christian replied sarcastically at the man's words.
Everyone laughed at his comment, and a warm, familial atmosphere began to form in the space, which pleased Christian.
"Alright, enough chatting; let's eat," Negan said as he prepared to dig into his soup. However, before bringing his bowl closer, he looked at Christian. "But first, you know, you can heat these up and make a coffee for me… please."
Christian let out a soft laugh as he started up the machine again. "At your service, boss."
After finishing breakfast, which consisted of an unusual combination of soup and coffee—a strange mix but better than nothing given the circumstances—the atmosphere around the table had become even more relaxed. Despite the oddity of the meal, it seemed everyone had enjoyed it in some way, or at least appreciated the warmth and the shared moment.
"Coffee and soup… an interesting combination," Negan commented with curiosity. "But nothing to complain about; thanks for the coffee, Chris."
"You're welcome," Christian replied, feeling pleased by the compliment.
As the atmosphere remained light, Christian allowed himself to relax in his thoughts. There was much to do that day. He contemplated how to present the improvements he had made around the house to Negan and Lucille. They might not like the idea of what he had done, but he knew it was necessary for everyone's safety. Moreover, he was eager to show them some of the weapons he had created, which were designed so that none could be used against him; even if they tried, they would be ineffective at causing him harm.
Along with the matter of the weapons was the need to train them, both in using those weapons and in getting them accustomed to the idea that, sooner or later, he would have to use them—not only against walkers but also against other humans. The appearance of the latter was inevitable, given the discreet yet extremely eye-catching things he had done, like the wall that had practically been constructed in a single night, made of a material so superior in strength and consistency that it could be considered indestructible. Curiosity killed the cat.
In any case, Christian hoped that the training wouldn't turn out to be too difficult to complete. At least in the case of killing walkers, of course. Facing an absolute predator—monsters, in short—whose only desire was to consume living flesh—which, in this case, was oneself—made it relatively easy to mentally prepare for killing them. It was a life-or-death situation, simple to grasp. However, with humans, things were, as they often were, more complicated. Depending on the circumstances, one might end up killing someone in self-defense; the heat of battle always prioritizes instincts over emotions.
The real problem began when the act of killing didn't occur in the midst of battle, where the instinct for survival and adrenaline cloud emotions. No, the true challenge lay in making that decision with full awareness, when there was no immediate threat and someone's life rested in one's hands, and one had to decide whether to pull the trigger or not. That pause, that space between action and thought, was what made the act infinitely more complex and terrifying.
When one has time to think, to observe the person in front of them, and to remember that, despite the chaos of the world they live in, they are still a human being—that's when the emotional weight emerges. Killing in self-defense is one thing; doing so while knowing that another way out might have been sought is completely different. In those moments, one realizes they have crossed a moral line. Although in this apocalypse, that decision is often necessary, guilt and remorse do not disappear so easily.
Ironically, that same emotional burden, that feeling that what one is doing is still wrong, is what keeps some people's humanity alive. It serves as a reminder that, even though the world has changed, morality and principles have not been completely shattered.
Christian, however, had reached a point where these decisions didn't affect him in the same way. His cranial implants and the Human.exe program provided him with an advantage by disconnecting those feelings of doubt or guilt. But beyond technology, his life, experiences, and personality had already prepared him to handle morally ambiguous situations. Growing up in a Latin American context under a relatively mild dictatorship had given him a very different understanding of morality and justice.
He was accustomed to the harshness of the world, both regarding violence and the immoral actions necessary for survival. He had witnessed firsthand the consequences when a criminal was found by locals. Justice was not always legal, nor peaceful. Crowds took justice into their own hands, and the law, in those cases, was a distant luxury, something for another time and place. Not to mention the mini-rebellions sparked by public discontent, during which the police and public services became enemies of everyone except themselves and their superiors. These experiences had desensitized him in ways that many could not comprehend.
For Christian, the lines between what was moral and immoral were much more flexible than for most people. It wasn't that he didn't understand the gravity of taking a life or committing immoral acts; rather, he knew that at the end of the day, what mattered wasn't whether something was moral or immoral, but whether one survived.
"Chris," Lucille's soft voice pulled Christian from his thoughts about morality. "Yesterday, during lunch, you said you could cure my cancer, right?"
"Yes," Christian replied directly and simply. Negan's gaze shot toward Lucille.
"Lucille…" Negan began, but he was interrupted. The significance of her words had already settled in the air, creating an atmosphere thick with expectation and tension.
"And what would you need to do it?" Negan asked, attempting to maintain a tough tone.
"Just your biological data," Christian answered with his characteristic sincerity.
Lucille kept her gaze fixed on him while Negan, clearly anxious about the direction of the conversation, seemed torn between saying something or simply listening. The silence in the room felt heavy, laden with the gravity of the question.
"What does that mean exactly?" Lucille continued; her tone now more controlled but with palpable curiosity.
"Your biological data includes things like your genetics, physical and cellular condition, and a series of other factors that I will use to identify the cancer-affected cells. Once I have those, it will just be a matter of creating a medical device designed to cure it," Christian explained in a serious voice.
The room fell completely silent, both Negan and Christian directing their gazes toward Lucille, who appeared lost in thought. She remained that way for a while before a heavy sigh escaped her lips, and she turned her gaze toward Christian with a fire one wouldn't expect from someone in her condition.
"Do it," Lucille said, determination ringing in her voice. In a way, that tone surprised both Christian and Negan.
"Lucille, honey, I think we should…" Negan spoke, but was interrupted again. The woman turned her head to look firmly at Negan. A soft smile formed on her face, silencing him immediately.
"Negan, let's be honest," she extended her frail hand toward him; he instinctively did the same. A strong yet delicate grip formed between them.
A grimace of sadness appeared on the faces of both Negan and Lucille. Negan tightened his grip, causing Lucille to wince in pain. He quickly relaxed his hold upon realizing this, a look of guilt forming on his face. Christian merely observed, knowing that in this case, he could only be a spectator.
"No… no, you're not," Negan whispered softly, sadness lacing his voice.
Lucille's only response was to smile at him—a weak, gentle smile that seemed to hold all the love and sadness accumulated over time. Her eyes, though weary, sparkled with a mixture of affection and resignation.
"I am, Negan… and you know it," she said, her voice broken yet firm. "A person who can do nothing more than sleep and complain about the constant pain of their daily life, someone who can't even walk a few steps before falling and fainting on the floor, someone who in this new world only has death as an option, whether by their own body or at the hands of others, both living and dead, that's what I am now, Negan… a burden."
Negan looked at Lucille, his eyes flooded with pain and regret, unable to find the right words. The reality of what Lucille was saying hit him like a cruel and silent slap. He knew she was right; what she described was the inescapable truth of her situation, but that did nothing to make it easier to accept.
"No… not for me," he whispered, his voice choked with the emotion he was trying to contain. "You're not a burden, Lucille. You never will be… No matter what you say, no matter what happens."
Lucille gazed at him with a gentle expression filled with compassion. Her eyes, though weary, radiated a calmness that seemed unreachable for Negan at that moment. She extended her other hand, bringing both of hers together with his in a gentle clasp. Negan responded almost instantly, as if that gesture could halt the reality that loomed over them, but the pain was inescapable. A look of pure sadness etched across his face as he felt Lucille's fragility in his hands.
"I know," Lucille replied, her voice broken yet serene. "I know you don't see it that way, and I truly appreciate it, but that doesn't change the fact that I am."
Negan bowed his head at those words, a grimace of guilt forming on his face. Christian imagined this was because Negan felt guilty for everything that had happened before the apocalypse, for how he had been a bad husband after his dismissal, and for his lowest point, the infidelity he had committed against her.
"I'm tired, Negan," Lucille continued, her voice hard and heartbreaking. "Tired of waking up every day with pain in my body, tired of struggling for even the slightest action. Tired of being completely weakened, of seeing my reflection in the mirror and noticing how my beautiful brown hair has gone. But above all, I'm tired of the constant fear I feel… the terror that consumes me when I think that one day, when you go out there to try to keep us alive, will be the last time I see you. That all of this will end up killing you… because of me."
Tears fell from the woman's eyes, and Negan rose from his chair. Without releasing her hand, he moved to embrace her. Tears also flowed down his cheeks as he buried his face in Lucille's false hair. It was an intimate and loving moment amid the sadness.
"I don't care," Negan replied softly, his voice breaking with emotion. "I don't care if I die for you, Luci. I don't care because I know that if I do, it will be my punishment. My punishment for having been a bad husband… for what I did, for everything I was before the world went to hell, for all the ways I have failed you, for all the faults I've committed against our marriage and you."
"Like Janine?" Lucille asked, her voice soft and calm. At the mention of that name, Negan froze; his eyes widened suddenly. An expression of horror, regret, pain, sadness, and anger formed on his face simultaneously. The reason was simple: Janine was Lucille's best friend, the woman with whom Negan had been unfaithful.
"I… Lucille… I—" he tried to speak, but was interrupted by Lucille, who simply tightened her grip on his hand, even though it only tired her already weakened body even more.
"I know, Negan… I always knew," Lucille replied, her calm contrasting with the emotional storm reflected in her eyes. Her tone held neither reproach nor anger but rather acceptance—a kind of acceptance that hurt more than any accusation Negan had expected to hear.
"Then… why didn't you say anything?" Negan asked, his voice heavy with confusion and pain. "Why didn't you leave me? Why didn't you ask me to go? Why do you let me stay by your side as your husband, knowing what I did? Why do you care about me?"
Lucille's face remained calm, but her eyes revealed the deep exhaustion that accompanied her, both physically and emotionally. She struggled to breathe before responding, her words soft yet filled with meaning.
"Because you showed me that there was still something of the person, I fell in love with in you," Lucille answered, her voice gentle but full of conviction. "Because, despite everything you did before… you've shown me that you would be by my side, even in the worst moments. Because, despite everything that has happened, you've been here. You've shown me that you are willing to do anything for me, even when the opportunities to escape, to leave me behind, were always there for you."
Negan looked at her, his face filled with pain and confusion. He couldn't understand how, after everything he had done, Lucille still saw him as someone worthy of her love and trust. He didn't deserve it, not after failing her in so many ways.
"But… why?" he whispered; his voice shattered by the weight of his guilt. "Why do you stay here, Lucille? You know I'm not that man. I'm not the man you deserve. I… I failed you."
Lucille sighed with effort. She knew those words were coming, and she understood how difficult it was for Negan to deal with the guilt that gnawed at him.
"Because the man who is by my side now, the one who has done everything possible to be with me, is the man I love. It doesn't matter what you've done, Negan; I know that deep down, the man you were is still there. And it is that man, not the one who made mistakes, who has kept me alive all this time. Sometimes, when the world is falling apart, we realize who we really are... and that's why in these past two weeks, I've come to see who you truly are, Negan… my husband."
The small tears in Negan's eyes quickly transformed into rivers, and his embrace tightened. They remained in that position for a few seconds, relishing each other's warmth.
"I don't deserve your forgiveness... or your love," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "But if you still see me as your husband... then I will fight to be worthy of that. I will do whatever it takes to ensure you never regret trusting me."
A soft laugh escaped Lucille's lips at this response. Releasing one of her hands, she reached out to touch Negan's face, playfully giving gentle slaps to his right cheek. He responded by accepting those caresses and putting a smile on his face.
"That's enough for me," Lucille declared with a soft joy that surprised both Negan and Christian. "Now, where were we?... Ah, yes, Christian, could you start the process now? Right?"
Christian remained silent for a few seconds, observing the sudden change in Lucille. The fact that she had transitioned from a state of total sadness to one of joy surprised him. It reminded him of a mix of himself and his mother in his previous life. It was strange, but not unpleasant or annoying, just... peculiar.
"Yes," he finally replied, his tone a blend of simplicity and robotic precision. "However, I must clarify that the healing process should take place in a more suitable location."
What he had said was a half-truth; the reality was that the process could occur anywhere at random. However, he wanted to show them the rest of his creations and the things he had made the night before. This addressed both the need for them to become accustomed to these things and a more personal motivation: to see the reactions on their faces when contemplating the Scarabs... if Christian could be childish, he always would be.
"And where would that suitable place be?" Negan asked seriously, while Lucille also adopted a serious demeanor.
Christian, feigning a nervousness that was partially genuine—given his limited ability in human interactions—scratched his left cheek and averted his gaze to the floor. He was reinforcing the idea that, while extremely intelligent and capable in terms of creation, he was not precisely an expert in social dynamics. And, in a way, that wasn't a lie.
"Well, uh... let's just say that the Food Fabricator wasn't my only creation from yesterday," he said, letting out a small laugh, trying to lighten the moment with humor.
Neither Negan nor Lucille responded to that, perhaps due to mental exhaustion, especially after what had occurred at breakfast, just emerging from the realm of dreams, the domains of unreality. A soft sigh escaped Christian's lips.
"I think it would be better if I showed you," he said as he rose from the table and gestured for them to follow. Despite the strangeness of the situation, both Lucille and Negan complied and began to head toward the exit.
Since Lucille couldn't walk well on her own, Negan picked her up, carrying her like a princess. A small gasp of surprise escaped Lucille's lips at the gesture, while a soft laugh bubbled up from Negan. She responded by giving him a light slap on the cheek, a tender gesture that clashed with the gravity of the moment.
Negan ascended the stairs effortlessly; his experience as a former physical education teacher and his good physical condition made the burden no challenge for him. Once they reached the door, Christian raised a hand to signal them to stop. The looks of confusion on the couple's faces were evident.
"Before we go out, I just want to ask you not to be frightened by what you are about to witness..." Christian warned them, his tone serious but conciliatory. "And I apologize for ruining your stroll... I think."
Without giving them time to react, he swung the door wide open, revealing the technological marvels he had created during the night. The expressions on Negan and Lucille's faces instantly transformed into a mix of surprise and confusion that greatly amused Christian. If it weren't for his cranial implants regulating his emotions, he likely would have been laughing out loud at that moment. He was genuinely pleased with his cybernetic enhancements, as they allowed him to savor the moment without overflowing.
Negan, carrying Lucille, began to move slowly and cautiously outside the house, as if unsure how to proceed with the scene unfolding before him. Everything he saw appeared completely alien, as if it had emerged from another world. Lucille, though weakened, couldn't help but widen her eyes at what they were witnessing. Both felt as though they were at the center of a science fiction spectacle, and it filled them with a mixture of fascination and fear.
Christian watched them closely, relishing every moment of their bewilderment. Although he intended to be modest about his creations, he knew that what he had done would leave them speechless. The man was childish.
"Alex... Chris, what the hell is this?" Negan asked, finally breaking free from his astonishment. He looked at Christian with a mix of disbelief, his trembling voice betraying both wonder and concern.
Christian let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck as he returned their intense gaze. Although he felt a bit exposed under the weight of their stares, he wasn't entirely uncomfortable. He had anticipated a reaction like this, but it always felt peculiar to deal with it.
"Well, as I already mentioned, I don't need sleep to function..." he began explaining in a soft voice. "So, after helping with the defense of the place yesterday, and seeing that... well, your security systems were a bit crude from my perspective, I decided to use my technological knowledge to create everything you see here."
Negan and Lucille continued to observe him, incredulous. It was understandable, given that they were ordinary people from 2010, whose greatest technological advance was the damn introduction of the iPad by Apple. However, considering that the CDC apparently possessed an incredible level of technology in the form of a microscope capable of viewing DNA at a level that no known modern technology could achieve—down to visible base pair linkages—it might not be the case. Still, Christian doubted that such things were available to the public. He maintained his point: this was not something anyone from this world was accustomed to seeing... and that said a lot in a zombie-populated world.
"I apologize for having destroyed part of your yard..." Christian added with an awkward laugh, pointing to the ground speckled with construction debris. "I just needed space for my constructions... and for my helpers."
"Helpers?" Negan asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion. He turned his gaze forward and surveyed the area. "Given what I see, I imagine those are the robot insects in our yard... right?"
That last part sounded more like a hope that there wouldn't be another crazy surprise. A soft laugh escaped Christian's lips at that, followed closely by Lucille's laughter. It was curious how the woman seemed more willing to accept all of this than Negan himself; Christian wasn't sure why.
"Yes," Christian replied with an amused smile as he stepped out of the house, then turned left and began to descend the short stairs, with the couple following closely behind. While Negan maintained his usual stern expression, his slow and cautious steps betrayed him. Clearly, the man had some reservations about the Scarabs in the yard, which was understandable, given how alien they appeared, or rather, strange.
"I call them Scarabs," Christian explained once the trio was fully outdoors, facing the insect robots. It was notable that both Negan and Lucille shuddered slightly, likely due to the gentle chill of the morning air blowing, and the fact that, as basic humans, they were extremely susceptible to it. "They are multipurpose robots equipped with a wide variety of tools and devices for various purposes: things like construction, maintenance, soldiers, defense, and more. It's thanks to them that I was able to build all of this in just one night."
A look of concern was etched on Negan's face, contrasting with his wife's expressions, which displayed pure curiosity and a kind of strange joy.
"Are they safe?" Negan asked in a straightforward tone.
"Technically, yes," Christian responded directly. "I designed them with the strictest safety protocols and measures to avoid any problems when following or enforcing various types of orders. Nothing complicated, but functional."
Negan nodded at the response, though his next question made it clear he still had doubts.
"And what if those protocols fail?" he asked, his worry evident. Lucille shared his concern, though she remained silent; Christian could see it in her expression.
"Well, if only one fails, then the others will pounce on it and destroy it. If half of them fail, then it would turn into a two-sided war. And if all of them fail... well, let's just say 'apocalyptic' would be a mild way to describe what would happen in that case," Christian explained in a serious, robotic tone. Negan and Lucille shot him strange looks, especially at his last remark.
"We know most people would say something to put everyone at ease after a comment like that," Lucille said casually, her eyes still on the Scarabs. "Or they'd outright lie about the consequences."
Christian nodded, acknowledging Lucille's remark with a blend of seriousness and honesty.
"Yes, most would," he admitted. "But I prefer to be straightforward. There's no point in lying about what could happen if something went wrong. However, I should stress that the chances of them all failing at once are incredibly low. It's more likely the world would end again before that happens."
Negan looked at him with distrust, his jaw clenched as he processed what Christian had just said. "And how can you be so sure they won't fail?"
"For one thing, the Scarabs are programmed to follow direct orders from me. They have backup systems, and any failure in one of them triggers an emergency protocol that the others detect immediately. Plus, all the Scarabs are connected to a network that I constantly monitor, so if I detect any anomaly, I can intervene right away," Christian replied, keeping his robotic and direct tone.
Lucille let out a soft sigh, and with a small gesture of resignation, she said, "Well, we're already living in some kind of apocalypse. I guess there's not much to lose by trusting you, right?"
She looked at Negan with a warm smile, trying to ease his concern.
Negan, however, still didn't seem entirely convinced, though his wife's comment had softened his stance.
"Just make sure you always have control. I don't want something else in this world trying to kill us," he remarked, his tone laced with humor.
"I've got it," Christian assured him. "As long as I'm here, the Scarabs won't pose any threat to you."
Of course, as long as they don't betray me, Christian thought seriously. It would be a bother to have to kill them... I like them quite a bit.
"Good to hear... I think," Negan said, adjusting his grip on Lucille. The action reminded Christian of another one of his creations, designed specifically to help Lucille with her condition, at least temporarily.
"I'll take that as a compliment," he muttered, noticing on his radar a Scarab approaching, pushing his new creation. "Anyway, let's head to the lab."
At this, the trio began moving again, but stopped as they saw a Scarab approaching at a relatively fast pace, pushing some kind of black chair with green lines. The chair had several cushions, levers on the sides, and a series of buttons next to them.
"Is that normal?" Negan asked, squinting as he prepared for anything.
"Yes, I ordered it to bring one of my creations here," Christian replied calmly, watching as the Scarab closed the distance between them. "Specifically, something designed to help Lucille... at least temporarily."
At those words, Lucille's attention heightened even more.
"Something for me?" she asked softly. Christian nodded.
The distance between them and the Scarab finally closed, and the small insect-like robot stopped a few meters from the trio, presenting the black chair with glowing green lines. Lucille, with a mix of amazement and curiosity, gazed at the device as though she were seeing something out of a futuristic dream, especially when she noticed that the chair seemed to be floating.
Christian stepped forward, placing a hand on the back of the chair, as if presenting a masterpiece—though to any modern human's eyes, it might as well be one.
"This is a motorized chair," Christian explained as he mentally connected to the machine's controls, running a quick diagnostic to check its status, which came back optimal. "Given what I've deduced about your illness and the conditions outside, it would be difficult for you to move around without exhausting yourself or being exposed to danger... so I created this for you. I thought it might be useful until you're ready for me to heal you."
Lucille, still in awe, leaned forward slightly in Negan's arms to get a closer look.
"Does it float?" she asked, her voice filled with fascination.
"It floats, yes. It uses anti-gravity technology that allows it to move smoothly and steadily over any terrain. It can also adapt to uneven surfaces and is designed to be fully autonomous if you wish," Christian responded in a practical, efficient tone, but with a hint of satisfaction.
Negan, still somewhat wary, narrowed his eyes at Christian.
"And it's completely safe, right? I don't want Lucille falling off that thing."
"Completely safe," Christian replied calmly. "I've accounted for every safety detail. It has stability sensors, a self-balancing system, and a power core capable of generating and drawing energy from various sources. In the event of failure or power loss, it will gently lower itself to the ground rather than drop suddenly."
"Chris, I... thank you for the gesture," Lucille said, offering a faint smile and feeling a bit more at ease.
A strange kind of joy flickered in Christian at those words. He had almost forgotten that he had created the chair primarily to gain the couple's trust and speed up their allegiance to him. Though that motivation was purely selfish, it was mutually beneficial—especially since Lucille seemed more open to undergoing the treatment, which would eventually render the chair somewhat useless. At least he could take solace in the blueprints and data he had gathered from the experiments to create it.
"No need to thank me. I just want to help," Christian responded sincerely. "Now, would you like to try it?"
Lucille looked at the chair for a moment, as if weighing her next move, before slowly nodding.
"Yes, I'd like to try it."
Christian smiled and stepped back, giving her access to the chair. Negan, carefully and still somewhat skeptical, lowered her slowly, making sure she was comfortable as she sat down. As soon as her body settled into the chair, the Scarab released it, and the chair emitted a faint hum, activating the moment it registered her weight.
Lucille gave a slight start when she felt the chair respond to her presence, but quickly realized how stable and comfortable it was.
"This is incredible..." she murmured, running her hands over the soft armrests. "It doesn't even feel like a chair... more like I'm in a futuristic vehicle."
Negan watched closely, still maintaining a hint of distrust, but as he saw his wife relax and smile, he let out a sigh of relief.
"Yeah... it sure looks like it," he commented with a strange laugh.
Christian couldn't help but smile broadly, watching his creation fulfill its purpose, and it hadn't even displayed all its features yet.
"You can control it with the handles on the arms," Christian explained.
At his words, Lucille placed her hands on the levers and gently pushed them forward. The chair glided smoothly in that direction. Negan almost lost his balance when his arm, resting on the chair, lost its support. Lucille giggled softly at the sight of Negan stumbling.
"Are you okay?" she asked with a playful smile as she moved a few more inches forward in the chair, gaining confidence in maneuvering it.
Negan, regaining his footing, rubbed his arm and joined in the laughter.
"Yeah, yeah... it just caught me off guard," he said, pretending to be annoyed, but his smile betrayed him. "Looks like you're getting the hang of it pretty quickly."
"Well, it feels good to be able to move properly again after two full weeks," Lucille replied with a hint of melancholy and frustration. "Or float, in this case."
Christian watched with satisfaction as the chair lifted Lucille's spirits. He felt pleased to see that his creation was effectively serving its purpose, offering Lucille a new way to experience mobility, even if only temporarily.
Lucille continued moving around the area, while Negan walked beside her at a slow but steady pace, never taking his eyes off her. His expression was a mixture of relief and concern, clearly comforted by seeing her more active.
"Hey, Chris, what do these buttons do?" Lucille asked. Negan looked at the buttons, then turned his gaze to Christian, who was approaching them.
"They activate the chair's defense system," Christian explained as he stood beside Lucille, beginning to point at the buttons, specifically the one labeled "Attack." "As it says here, this one switch to attack mode."
Driven by curiosity, Lucille pressed the button. Neither Christian nor Negan stopped her—Negan took a few seconds to react, while Christian, for his part, let it happen purely for his own amusement, enjoying the chance to impress the woman and further convince both of them that following his lead was the right choice.
When the button was pressed, the chair transformed abruptly. Two cannons emerged from the sides and the back of the seat. A small pillar rose between Lucille's legs, and from its tip, a lit screen appeared, projecting a solid light interface. This display showed an impressive amount of information: a radar map, a bar symbolizing the chair's shield, a detailed schematic of the chair outlining its features and physical condition, along with a multitude of other functions.
Lucille stared at the screen before her, utterly fascinated by what she saw. The radar map, the shield bar, and all the technical details left her speechless. It felt as if she were piloting a futuristic spaceship.
"Incredible," she said as she reached out towards the screen, feeling like she was touching a solid wall. It was an odd experience for her. "Solid."
Negan moved closer to touch the screen as well. His hand slid over the surface, a look of both curiosity and concern never leaving his face throughout the process.
"So... how many things does this tank chair have?" Negan dubbed the chair while his hands explored the structure's design.
"This 'tank chair' has more than you can imagine," Christian responded with a slightly amused smile, watching their reactions. "Besides the cannons and defense system, it has autonomous navigation, an energy shield capable of withstanding pretty strong impacts, and a self-protection mode if it detects danger when Lucille is alone."
Negan let out a small whistle as he examined the chair, showing a mix of awe and respect for the technology in front of him. Christian felt satisfied seeing that his creation was impressing the couple, further solidifying his role as an ally in this new world.
"Wow... I see why you call it a tank chair. Anything else? Maybe hidden missile launchers or a flight mode?" Negan asked, half-surprised, half-joking.
Christian chuckled softly.
"No, not quite that far. Although it does have a levitation system that allows it to move without touching the ground, making it more agile on rough terrain. But no missiles... for now."
Lucille, still exploring the screen with her hand, nodded, clearly impressed.
"It's more than I could have ever imagined... but is it really safe to use this? I don't want it to explode or something if I make a wrong move."
Christian offered her a reassuring look. "It's designed to be extremely safe. None of the defense functions will activate unless the commands are clear or it detects a direct threat. Plus, you have full control over the chair. You can handle it manually."
Negan, though still not fully convinced, couldn't help but admire the technology.
"Well, it seems like you've thought of everything, Chris. I just hope we don't have to see those weapons in action."
Christian nodded, maintaining his smile.
"I hope so too. But it's always better to be prepared, don't you think?"
"Yeah... I do," Negan agreed.
"I'm glad you think so," Christian replied, starting to move away from the group and heading toward the back. "Now, how about we go ahead and get you healed, Lucille?"
The group resumed their original mission, the reason they had set out in the first place. Thanks to the chair, the journey became calmer and more relaxed, creating a sort of positive energy in the air.
During the trip, Christian explained some of his newer creations, like the generator and the converter. The couple's reactions were more subdued and relaxed by comparison, even when Christian mentioned the generator's energy capacity, which could power not only their entire house but also a whole city without issue. Christian figured their attitude stemmed from the sheer number of innovations he had already shown them—things that, in simpler terms, were far more impressive than an energy generator, even if it was infinitely superior to any human technology currently available.
Once they arrived at the entrance of the laboratory, Christian paused for a moment to observe the building. It was a simple, functional structure—a black square without any embellishments, designed more for utility than aesthetics. Despite its austere appearance, it served perfectly as a temporary lab until he could build something more advanced, whether it be on a spaceship or in Atlanta, as he had planned.
"Well, here we are," Christian said with a slight smile as he approached the main door, which was wide enough to allow Lucille to enter with her chair. The only visible access was a plain door, which could be opened either through a fingerprint scanner or by issuing a mental command via his neural interface.
Christian opted for the latter, sending a direct order through his neural interface. Within seconds, the door emitted a soft beep and slid open with precise, smooth motion.
"After you," he added, gesturing toward the interior with a friendly gesture.
Lucille and Negan exchanged a quick glance before Lucille moved forward in her motorized chair. Their curiosity was palpable, though the emotions guiding them were distinct. Lucille seemed more intrigued by the technology, while Negan, though still cautious, felt somewhat more relaxed after what they had witnessed in the past few hours.
The interior of the lab was as austere as its exterior, filled with advanced machinery, glass tanks filled with strange liquids, holographic screens, and tools that seemed pulled from a distant future. In the center of the room stood a large surgical chair, from which hung a series of robotic arms equipped with various tools and devices. Everything was organized with precision; each element had a clear purpose. Additionally, the space maintained a comfortable ambient temperature, neither too cold nor too hot.
"This is more than I expected," Lucille murmured as she looked around. Christian smiled, pleased that his technology and equipment were ready to fulfill their purpose.
"This is just the beginning," Christian remarked. "Now, let's get to the important part. We're going to heal you, Lucille."
Walking toward one of the screens in the lab, specifically the one next to the table, Christian gestured for the couple to come closer. Without hesitation, they moved to his side.
"Okay, now lie down on the chair," Christian ordered with a soft but firm voice as he adjusted various controls on the holographic screen in front of him.
Lucille, though a bit nervous, trusted Christian's words. With Negan's assistance, she slowly rose from the motorized chair and reclined on the surgical seat. Notably, the chair was equipped with red cushions designed to keep the patient as comfortable as possible.
As soon as her body was completely on the chair, a red light emanating from the ceiling devices began to envelop her. The red light scanned Lucille's figure with precision, projecting a detailed three-dimensional model of her physical structure onto the screen. Christian observed the scanner intently, focusing on the area affected by pancreatic cancer. The indicators displayed the progression of the disease and the specific areas that required immediate attention; given that the illness was advanced and, due to chemotherapy, the affected area was not overly extensive.
"Alright," Christian murmured, adjusting some controls on the screen. "The scanner has confirmed everything I already knew. We're ready to proceed."
Lucille watched, nervous yet confident, while Negan, by her side, gently held her hand, providing emotional support. One of the robotic arms on the ceiling moved toward her, holding a tube with a syringe at the end that contained healing nanomachines of the same type that Christian had in his body. The robotic hand, perfectly synchronized with Christian's instructions, positioned itself precisely over the base of Lucille's spine, where the skin was closest to the main blood flow. The tube with the syringe paused for a moment, and Christian looked at Lucille calmly.
"I'm going to inject the nanomachines here," Christian explained, his voice soothing. "From this point, they will travel through your circulatory system, quickly reaching the pancreas and starting to attack the cancerous cells at a molecular level. At the same time, they will reinforce your immune system so you can resist any relapse… Are you ready?"
Lucille nodded slowly, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. "Yes... I'm ready," she murmured, gripping Negan's hand tightly. Her husband looked at her with a mix of concern and hope, continuously offering his support.
Christian nodded with a calm smile. "Alright, this will be quick."
With almost millimeter precision, the robotic hand injected the nanomachines into the base of Lucille's spine. Once the contents were in her body, the needle retracted. She barely felt a slight pressure at the injection site, and Christian attentively monitored the screens. The display showed in real time the path of the nanomachines as they advanced through her bloodstream, rapidly approaching the pancreas.
"Everything is going as planned," Christian said, his voice firm and controlled, though a faint glimmer of satisfaction shone in his eyes. "They have already begun their work. In a few moments, they will start attacking the cancerous cells while protecting the healthy tissue."
Lucille took a deep breath, feeling a slight tingling in her abdomen. "Is this sensation normal?" she asked quietly.
"I'm not sure. I don't sense any pain or physical discomfort," Christian replied, noticing the worried expressions on Lucille and Negan's faces. "But based on my knowledge and what the screen shows, it's probably normal."
Negan, still holding her hand, carefully observed his wife's face for any signs of pain or discomfort. "How do you feel, sweetheart?"
Lucille closed her eyes for a moment, allowing the sensation to settle in her body. "Good... better than I expected."
"The nanomachines will continue working in your body for the next few hours," Christian continued, speaking in a calm and professional tone. "I warn you that you will be very tired; you may faint and feel extremely hungry due to your body needing to recover from the damage, both physical and mental. This is completely normal, as they are working intensively to heal you. The important thing is to stay hydrated, eat, and rest."
Lucille nodded slowly, still reclining in the surgical chair. "So... when will I be healed?" she asked with slight curiosity.
"In a few hours at most," he replied sincerely. "As I mentioned, it's not serious, so it will be relatively easy for you to recover from this."
"Really?" Negan said, surprised. Given that even the shortest treatments often lasted weeks, his reaction was understandable.
"Yes," Christian confirmed, his gaze returning to the screen. No unexpected changes appeared; Lucille's body remained still and calm, with her heart rate pulsing between 40 and 60 beats per minute, essentially matching the rhythm of someone who was asleep.
Christian shifted his gaze from the screen and looked directly at Lucille. As he had anticipated, the nanomachines were already in full operation, utilizing her body's energy. Lucille was completely asleep, her expression tranquil with a slight smile on her face, clearly relaxed despite what was happening inside her. Negan continued to hold her hand, utterly reluctant to leave her side.
"Hey, Negan," Christian whispered to get his attention. Instantly, the man turned his head toward him. "Come here."
Negan looked at him in confusion for a moment, but seeing the seriousness in Christian's face, he nodded slowly. Carefully and quietly, he released Lucille's hand, placing it on her chest before stepping back. However, he cast one last worried glance at his wife before moving toward Christian, who was configuring some settings on the screen.
"What's up?" Negan asked quietly, concern still evident in his tone. He probably thought that what Christian wanted to discuss was about Lucille's condition, which was not entirely inaccurate.
Christian finished adjusting the settings and then turned fully toward him. "I wanted you to step back for two reasons," he began to explain. "The first is this."
Christian pressed a button on the screen, and immediately a small hatch opened in the floor. A series of glass panels emerged, starting to surround the surgical table where Lucille rested. The panels smoothly closed around her, creating a transparent capsule that softly glowed with a gentle light.
In addition to this, a series of nozzles opened from the floor, releasing oxygen and a solution rich in vitamins and minerals, quickly filling the interior of the capsule around Lucille with a soft mist. The fine fog slowly dissipated, evenly covering her skin. Upon seeing this, Negan began to get agitated, but Christian quickly placed his left hand on his shoulder.
"Calm down," Christian said in a soothing voice, gently squeezing Negan's shoulder to reassure him. "This is part of the process. It won't harm her; on the contrary, it's helping her."
Negan took a deep breath, although his eyes remained fixed on the capsule enveloping Lucille, watching as the mist dissipated and cloaked her. Concern still lingered in his gaze, but he trusted Christian, even if it was hard to believe in the speed at which everything was happening.
Christian continued explaining while keeping his hand on Negan's shoulder. "The nanomachines need resources and energy to work, and her body alone cannot produce enough quickly. This capsule, in addition to keeping her in a controlled environment, provides nutrients that her body can absorb immediately in the form of a gaseous solution. This way, the nanomachines can continue their task without needing anything from Lucille."
Negan nodded, slowly grasping the explanation. "And the second reason?"
"The second reason is... more delicate," Christian replied, removing his hand from Negan's shoulder and adopting a more serious demeanor. "Come with me."
The duo moved toward the back of the laboratory, where Christian pointed to three objects resting on the long table beside a stationary mannequin.
The first object was a robust, futuristic-looking handgun, relatively large and completely black, constructed from Living Metal. It lacked ornamental details, featuring only a simple metallic sight, a small flashlight beneath the barrel, a stock designed to control recoil, a silencer, and a lever on the grip.
The second object was a futuristic rifle, also black, without notable details. It had a relatively long barrel and a sizeable stock. Additionally, it featured a sniper scope, a vertical grip, a flashlight beneath the barrel, a silencer, a wheel with symbols along one side of a line, and several blank lines, as well as a lever on its right side. Beyond these characteristics, there was nothing remarkable about it.
The third object was essentially a modified baseball bat. Its surface was covered with sharp spikes that ran the entire length, and it was a deep black color, revealing its composition of Living Metal, similar to the handgun. Like the previous one, it lacked adornments or eye-catching details, except for the handle, which appeared to be wrapped in a kind of gray fabric to provide a better grip.
Lastly, but not least, there was a mannequin beside the table, displaying a full-body black armor that denoted its composition. This armor consisted of a breastplate covering the entire torso, along with protection for the arms and legs, plus a belt filled with pockets, prominently featuring a holster for a pistol.
The armor also included a helmet with a green visor, covering most of the head while leaving the mouth and nose exposed. The helmet, like the armor, was designed to offer protection in extreme conditions and even featured a flashlight integrated into the side, useful for night missions or in low-visibility environments. In addition to the belt, the suit included several strategically placed pockets throughout the armor, designed to carry tools, ammunition, or other equipment efficiently, ensuring that everything was within reach during combat situations.
"I created these things for you," Christian explained as he approached the table, with Negan closely following.
"For me?" Negan asked, confused, stopping beside the table. His gaze drifted over the objects, filled with a curious yet worried air.
"Yes, for you." Christian pointed to the handgun and the rifle. "These are weapons I've named Deathlight Weapons. They are laser-based armaments that fire beams of concentrated light, which, upon contact with the target, generate a small explosion whose magnitude can vary in terms of radius and lethality."
Christian picked up the handgun and handed it to Negan, who hesitated for a moment before grasping it and starting to inspect it.
"The handgun and the rifle are examples of this. The handgun has a lower rate of fire, but each shot is so powerful that it can cause significant damage in an instant, even penetrating a steel plate five centimeters thick. It is ideal as a last-resort weapon."
Christian lifted the rifle, pointing to a wheel on the side of the weapon. The symbols on the wheel displayed a line for semi-automatic mode and several lines for automatic mode, which could be switched by turning the selector with a simple thumb movement.
"The rifle was created to function both as an assault rifle and a sniper rifle," he explained while Negan observed attentively. "This is thanks to its ability to switch between automatic and semi-automatic modes. In automatic mode, you can fire rapid bursts, ideal for close to mid-range combat, although at the cost of lower damage and explosiveness." Christian turned the wheel to automatic mode and mimicked a shot, emphasizing the speed and fluidity of the bursts.
"On the other hand," he continued while turning the wheel back to semi-automatic mode, "in this mode, you get surgical precision at long distances, and not only that. The damage it inflicts is significantly greater, as is the explosion generated upon impact. So much so that you could easily penetrate a steel plate ten centimeters thick with a single shot."
Negan assessed the weapon's features as he continued to toy with it. "Useful… very useful," he remarked, his eyes examining every detail. "And the ammunition? Since this thing uses energy, I doubt it needs bullets."
Christian moved his hand and pointed to the area between the grip and the vertical handle, basically the space where the magazine would normally be located, which had an elongated rectangular shape. "The weapons are powered by a small modified Ener generator inside," Christian explained. "This device absorbs ambient radiation of any kind and converts it into energy for the shots. You don't have to worry about loading ammunition; as long as the Ener generator has access to a source of radiation, the weapon will keep functioning. It's practically infinite under normal circumstances. Also, both weapons have a safety mechanism in the form of a small lever: for the handgun, it's on the grip, and for the rifle, it's on the right side."
Christian left the weapon on the table and picked up the bat, showing it to Negan. Instantly, Negan's attention shifted to the object; he discarded the handgun on the table and grabbed the bat. A joyful expression formed on his face as he held it, almost as if he were reuniting with an old friend.
"Hello, gorgeous," he said in a playful tone to the bat, stepping away slightly from Christian and starting to swing it. "Good weight, nice grip, and, from the looks of it, very lethal… let me guess, can it shoot laser beams?"
The man appeared extremely cheerful as he said this, almost like a child. Christian couldn't help but smile at Negan's reaction.
"No, although that wouldn't be a bad idea," Christian replied, leaning against the table. "The bat is simply a melee weapon I created as a last resort in case the rifle or the handgun fails, or both… You seem excited, Negan."
A wistful smile formed on Negan's face upon hearing those words; his gaze returned to the bat, and his grip tightened.
"I like baseball, or well, anything physical, really. I mean, after all, it was part of my physical education; that's what I used to do," he remarked in a soft, thoughtful voice, glancing at Christian. "You… Alexander also liked baseball. He told me it was a taste inherited from his father."
Christian's smile faded slightly upon hearing Negan's words. The name Alexander resonated in the air, bringing with it a mix of memories and emotions. For a moment, Christian simply looked at him, analyzing his companion's words and tone.
"You… miss him, don't you?" he asked in a simple, calm voice.
"Yes… I do," Negan replied quietly. "Especially now that your eyes are as blue as his… it's strange… especially since I know they weren't like that yesterday."
Christian had altered the color of his eyes overnight to match Alexander's, the former owner of his body. His knowledge of this came from possessing the originals in his Augmentation Room.
He kept his gaze fixed on Negan, allowing the silence between them to speak for itself.
"I modified them so you wouldn't feel uncomfortable," Christian finally confessed, his voice low but firm. "I'm sorry if I achieved the opposite effect; I'm not good with human emotions."
A soft laugh escaped Negan's lips at that comment. He stepped closer to Christian and placed his right hand on his left shoulder.
"Relax, this… isn't your fault," Negan said in a gentler tone. His words carried a mix of understanding and acceptance.
"I understand," Christian accepted, feeling relieved that the change in his eyes had produced a positive outcome. "Now, how about I show you my latest creation?"
Removing his hand from Negan's shoulder, Christian moved toward the mannequin and placed his hand on it.
"A simple armor, or at least that's what it is to me," he explained as he began to remove the armor pieces from the mannequin. He then placed the parts on the table. "Now, put it on."
"Put it on?" Negan asked, raising an eyebrow. "Is it that easy?"
"Yes," Christian replied. "I made it based on your measurements; it's designed for you."
"First of all, I'd like to know how you obtained them, but given your ability to detect Lucille's cancer just by looking at her, I'll assume it's thanks to your eyes," Negan said in a calm tone as he moved toward the table.
Once there, he began to don the armor. The process was a bit slow, as Negan had no prior experience with technological armor and wasn't quite sure how to equip himself. A full minute passed as he struggled to fit the pieces in place. Christian wore a teasing smile that could have irritated anyone. Once on, Negan made a few movements to adjust to the armor; he appeared somewhat uncomfortable, but given what he was wearing underneath, it was clear that was to be expected.
"It's strange," Negan said, moving his arms with slight discomfort. "But surprisingly light for what I expected."
"It's made, like all my creations, of Living Metal, the same material that exists in my body," Christian explained as he guided him toward the only mirror in the room. A curious look formed on Negan's face as he saw his appearance. "Not only is it lighter compared to any current human material, but it's also very durable and resilient; you could shoot it with grenade launchers and you wouldn't do more than scratch it. Additionally, it has a series of images on the back that you can use to secure your weapons, so you don't have to carry them in your hands."
"I see… it's interesting," Negan said, keeping his gaze on the reflection and feeling the strangeness of his appearance. "Chris, while we're at it, I've been wondering: what's the real reason behind all this? Why do you create these weapons and armor?"
Christian fell momentarily silent, directing a serious and intense look at Negan, which made him shudder slightly.
"The answer is simple, Negan, and I think you know it too, don't you?" Christian said in a serious tone. Negan looked away, aware of what he meant. "Negan, look, I don't know how to say this gently, so I'll just tell you: the world is going to hell."
Negan didn't say anything; he just grimaced. His hands turned into fists, tightening with force.
"From what you've told me, it's only been two weeks since it all began," Christian spoke softly and calmly. "Two weeks in which any apparent attempts by the government, any idiot in charge, or humanity itself to restore the situation and order have failed… Negan, when I woke up, I was surrounded by nearly 400 infected people trying to eat me. If it hadn't been for the helmet suit, I was wearing, I'd be dead and headless."
A disturbed and worried look formed on Negan's face upon hearing this.
"I killed them all, Negan. Every single one was eliminated, whether by my weapons or my own hands," Christian explained. "Damn it, the place where you found me was surrounded to hell with those things. You know, it was the first time I created something, and it was a gas that literally destroys those things at a molecular level… it left nothing behind, not even their clothes."
"So that's why that place was so empty," Negan murmured to himself. "So, was it because of them that you created these weapons and armor for me? So, I could fight and defend myself and Lucille?"
"Yes," Christian confirmed, maintaining a firm gaze on Negan. "But not just for that; also, for the normal."
Negan stared back after those words, but Christian didn't mind. It was better to make this clear before a tragedy similar to what had happened to the man in the program occurred.
"I don't know many humans, Negan, but my mind is loaded with enough information about human biology to know that they're not different from any animal in this world," Christian spoke firmly, ignoring how Negan shifted uncomfortably at his way of referring to people. "When there's no order, chaos ensues. When there are no rules, people do what they want. When resources dwindle, others will want what you have. And when all this happens, the living will be your greatest enemy in this world. Sooner or later, you'll be forced to treat them as such. That means…"
"Eliminate them... I know," Negan interrupted, letting out a weary sigh. His gaze focused on his reflection in the mirror, where an expression of fatigue and resignation formed on his face. "I... appreciate what you're doing for us."
"Listen," Christian continued, keeping his gaze fixed on Negan. "You didn't attack me when we first met, nor when you learned of my condition. Besides, you and Lucille gave me information about who I'm supposed to be and allowed me to live in your home. It's the least I can do," Christian replied in a soft and calm voice.
"I see, thank you for that," Negan nodded at Christian's words, processing them. "I... will think about what you said."
"I hope you do. I really don't want anything bad to happen to you," Christian replied, beginning to walk toward the exit of the room.
Negan watched him for a moment before speaking quickly. "Wait, where are you going?"
Christian stopped and turned back to him, an amused expression on his face. "You didn't say you wanted a steak. I'm going to the forest to see if I can find any animals for meat. I'm sure Lucille will like it too."
Negan looked at him for a few seconds before a soft laugh escaped his mouth at that simple, trivial response.
"You really are… unique, you know," he said cheerfully, chuckling softly. However, that quickly shifted to a more relaxed and contemplative expression. "Tell me, Chris, how much time had passed since you woke up in that alley when we first met?"
Christian paused at the question, feigning a state of reflection. It was all an act to reinforce his selective amnesia.
"An hour, at most," Christian easily lied to the man. "When I woke up, I really didn't know what was going on, but since I had to act immediately to avoid being eaten, I didn't think much about it."
"You really don't rest at all, do you?" Negan said in a soft and sad tone.
"No, I really don't," Christian replied indifferently. "Given the modifications to my body, I don't actually need to rest to function, so I simply don't. It's not for me."
With nothing more to say, Christian crossed the entire laboratory. Just as he was about to exit, a whisper from Negan reached his ears.
"You really haven't changed at all… Alexander." Negan's voice was sad but positive.
The door closed quickly behind Christian as he stepped back outside. He walked a few meters to distance himself from the laboratory, then mentally commanded a Scarab. The machine approached him swiftly, climbing onto his back. Once in place, the nanomachines of his suit covered the Scarab, integrating it without causing discomfort or annoyance.
Christian checked his radar, and upon confirming there was no danger, he prepared to act. He then took a great leap that carried him over the walls surrounding the perimeter. His landing was smooth and silent, thanks to the antigravity technology he possessed.
Rising to his feet, Christian ventured into the forest, determined to search for a game animal to feed Negan and Lucille. He certainly hoped to find something worthwhile.
"I think this will do."
After walking aimlessly for about thirty minutes, Christian finally detected something on his radar that was of a sufficient size to identify as a living edible being. Hidden among some bushes and wearing his dark green suit, he observed a deer wandering calmly and relaxed through the forest, without worry or fear.
Decided to act, he drew his left weapon from its holster and switched it to silenced pistol mode. The weapon transformed and restructured at his command. He gently aimed the weapon at the deer, which he nicknamed "Bambi." His eyes and mind quickly processed all the calculations, and once everything was ready, he fired.
A ray of green light sliced through the environment, making no sound beyond the murmur of nature. Instantly, the deer fell dead to the ground with a hole in its head, and Christian emerged from his hiding spot, moving toward the carcass.
Once beside the deer, he commanded his nanomachines to retract from his right hand. Nozzles opened on each finger, and he quickly plunged his hand into the animal's body. A series of data flooded his vision; everything related to the deer was available to him. Genetic information, tissue status, cellular structure, and even its recent diet unfolded before him as if he were reading a detailed report. All of this was stored in his databases and transmitted to the rest of his systems.
Throughout this process, he couldn't help but think that perhaps he had been a bit hasty in giving Negan the talk about killing. However, considering what would happen in the future, it was better to do it now than never. This was also one of the reasons he had gone out; nothing like solitude for self-reflection and internal criticism—well, that and the fact that he wanted to take a walk as well.
Once satisfied with the results, he withdrew his hand from the carcass and allowed his nanomachines to cover his skin once more. The blood and any waste were quickly cleaned by the nanomachines in the suit, which used them as fuel.
Determined not to waste a death, Christian hoisted the deer onto his back and began to walk back to the base. However, that plan quickly halted as he noticed a pair of red dots appearing on his radar, moving toward his position. Given their color, it was clear they were humans—two, to be precise—who would take a few minutes to arrive at his location given their speed.
Driven by curiosity and a good dose of recklessness, Christian ran toward the bush where he had previously hidden, dropping the deer to the ground to conceal himself once more.
Excitement grew within him as the dots drew nearer. Three minutes—that was the time it took for them to present themselves before him, revealing their forms and appearances.
A young woman and a girl were those dots, both with black skin, black hair, and brown eyes. They were in a pitiful state, covered in dirt and dust. The young woman and the girl, clearly exhausted and desperate, collapsed to the ground in front of him.
The older one appeared to be a young adult, standing about 1.70 meters tall. She wore a dirty, tight-fitting red shirt, dark blue pants that were also filthy, and red sneakers, equally stained. As for her physical appearance, many would have used the word "standard" to describe her, even somewhat unfeminine, given her seemingly strong and slightly muscular build. However, to Christian, this only made her the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life.
The girl beside her shared almost the same characteristics as the older one but appeared more childlike, with a body suitable for her age. She wore a dirty yellow dress, slightly torn at the bottom, and had crescent-shaped earrings dangling from her ears.
The older girl's body trembled with weakness as she vomited, a clear sign of her dire condition. Through her eyes, Christian could see the source of her suffering: an infected bite on her shoulder, surrounded by necrotic tissue. The active infection from Wildfire had begun to spread.
The pain on the young woman's face was evident, but what struck Christian the most was how she gently pushed the little girl away. Even in her misery, she tried to protect the child, keeping her away from the danger posed by her condition.
Christian stood still for a moment, processing what lay before him. They were not a threat, but the bite indicated that the young woman had little time left before transforming. The little girl, unaware of the imminent danger, remained worried about her companion, hugging her with tears in her eyes.
He supposed that what ultimately prompted him to act was perhaps compassion, maybe pity, or perhaps the fact that the older girl met all his criteria for someone to assist. Sometimes, even being a crazy cyborg wasn't enough to save oneself from his fetishes; in fact, sometimes, it only made it worse.
Determined to act quickly, he emerged from his hiding spot and approached the pair. The sound of his footsteps quickly alerted the young woman to his presence. She looked at him with an expression of utter disbelief and confusion. It was notable that Christian wasn't wearing a helmet, giving him a foolish air as he seemed to want to feel the wind on his face.
He could see her body trembling, and while the bite was concerning, her weakness indicated that she was in no condition to do anything but observe. The little girl, still frightened, pressed against her sister, clearly terrified but too weak to resist or flee.
"Hello, I am…" he began to introduce himself to the pair but was interrupted by the older girl.
"Miller?" the young woman asked, surprised. Christian quickly recognized the surname. It was the name that, according to Negan, belonged to the body he inhabited, that of the person known as Alexander Miller.
"Do I know you?" asked Asha, her tone soft yet curious, as her eyes scrutinized Christian's face more closely.
"Yes, I am… never mind," the woman gave up on her introduction. "Look, I need you to take my sister away from here."
"But Asha…" the little girl began, her voice trembling with concern, but Asha, maintaining a firm gaze despite her condition, gently interrupted her.
"Without buts, Gracy," Asha spoke with a hard voice, but her expression quickly softened. "Everything will be fine, okay? You need to go with him. You'll be safe… I'll distract them so you both can escape."
Asha looked at her younger sister with a soft, sorrowful voice as tears silently streamed down her face. The little girl, with a resigned expression on her dirty face, heeded her older sister's words and walked toward Christian, gripping his hand tightly. Despite the order, Christian remained motionless, studying Asha with a cold, intense curiosity, analyzing every detail of the dying woman before him.
Noticing the lack of action, Asha frowned. Exhaustion and anger began to invade her expression.
"Come on, what are you waiting for, damn it! Run!" she shouted in an annoyed tone. "Quickly, before—"
Whatever she wanted to say was abruptly interrupted by the loud roar of motorcycles that shattered the tranquility of the forest, a sound resonating with threatening violence. Asha and her sister reacted with sheer terror, their faces paling as they heard the bikers approaching rapidly. Christian remained calm, but his radar had already warned him of the situation. Ten red dots moved quickly, closing in on their position. In a matter of seconds, they were practically upon them.
Christian slowly turned, evaluating the new threat. The bikers emerging from the trees looked like they had stepped out of a gang movie, dressed in black leather, chains, and battered helmets. They were a group of bandits clearly ready to intimidate and pillage. The roars of their motorcycles grew deafening as they formed a semicircle around Christian, Asha, and the little girl.
One of them, likely the leader, stopped his bike at the front of the group. He dismounted with an arrogant attitude, his gaze fixed on Asha and her sister before locking eyes with Christian. "Well, well, what do we have here," he said with a nasty smile. "Looks like you've caught something interesting, guys."
The other bikers chuckled under their breath as the leader approached further. Asha trembled with pure terror, her body seeming to lose all traces of strength. The little girl pressed even closer to Christian, clearly frightened.
The leader continued speaking, deliberately ignoring Christian as he addressed Asha. "We thought we lost you, but you see... we always find what we're looking for."
As all this unfolded, one singular thought filled Christian's mind at the situation: a reflection of the classic mentality of a lunatic like him… a simp for black girls. "Let's see which one I should kill first to impress her."
Author's Notes:
Hello, how are you? I hope you're well.
This is the seventh chapter of the fanfic and the longest I have written to date, not just for this fanfic but for all my writings in general. In this chapter, we see Christian showcase some of his creations to Negan and Lucille, the creation of ultra-OP machines, the healing of Lucille, the search for non-human meat, and the encounter with another apparent person and her sister, who seems to be part of Christian's body's past; I should mention that she is an OC.
Overall, I can say that there are parts of the chapter that I don't like, such as the rigidity of the conversations, but I liked the final result. Christian is about to move toward Atlanta; reminder: two weeks have passed since the start of the infection, so he has time to act.
As always, I remind you that English is not my native language, and I am open to criticism. I have been using AI to correct errors, but there is still room for improvement.
I'm here to clarify that the fic is not abandoned, I'm just busy with some things in real life. The update will take a while to come, but it will come.
Edit: So after thinking about it for a while I have decided to rewrite the first few chapters. I feel that they are quite simple and poorly written (and the next ones as well, but to a lesser extent) so stay tuned for the first two chapters (Prologue and chapter 1) which are ready in their new versions.
