Chapter 15: Chatper 15 - SuperStrength?

Jacob showed no fear as he threw the empty rifle aside and stepped forward. “Kid, you sound young. You think I got to the top with just a rifle?”

Without warning, he lunged forward, moving with astonishing speed. His fist connected with Zack’s chestplate, and the impact sent the Mark armor back a step, denting the metal.

“Sir, target shows abnormal physical indicators. Strength far exceeds human norms,” Ego warned.

Zack felt the strain through the armor. “Noted.”

Jacob launched another series of rapid punches, each blow rocking the armor. He moved with the skill of a seasoned underground fighter, enhanced by a strength beyond normal human limits.

Between dodges and punches, Jacob’s taunts echoed. “I don’t know where you got this metal shell, but I’ll be taking it after I crush you!”

Just as he lunged for a final blow, a glint caught his eye—a blade shot out from Mark’s armored forearm. He had no time to pull back as it sliced clean through his right arm, severing it at the shoulder.

“ARGH!” Jacob screamed, blood spurting in arcs across the ground.

Before he could recover, another blade extended from the armor’s opposite arm, and with a single, fluid slash, it took his remaining arm with it. Blood gushed like a river, and Jacob’s screams pierced the air as he dropped to his knees, his face twisted in agony.

“I don’t know what you thought you could achieve here,” Zack said coldly, raising the bloodied blade to deliver the final blow. “This armor isn’t just for show.”

With one last sweeping strike, he silenced Jacob for good. As the blade sliced through, the last thought in Jacob’s mind was of disbelief, his fading gaze staring up at Zack in helpless rage. “Really, who brings fists to a blade fight?”

Zack pulled his blade back, surveying the survivors. Around him, huddled among old machines and rusty equipment, the workers and their families held makeshift weapons—mostly steel pipes. Their eyes widened in fear at the sight of him, his armor still stained with traces of his recent battle. Zack’s ruthless efficiency was terrifying; to these people, he appeared no better than Jacob, the tyrant he had just overthrown.

“Who’s in charge here?” he asked, his voice deep and distorted from within the armor. The crowd murmured in alarm, their glances shifting to a figure sprawled on the ground, a bloodied heap in the shadows.

"Sean Combs, male, 37 years old," Ego, his AI companion, noted clinically. "Former director of this steel plant. No vital signs detected—cause of death appears to be blunt trauma.”

Before Zack could respond, a cry broke out from the crowd. A thin, dirty girl with short hair threw herself onto the dead man, clutching his bloodied clothes. “Dad!” she sobbed, her voice cracked and raw with grief.

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“Who is she?” Zack asked, intrigued by her sudden appearance.

“Annie, female, age 13,” Ego replied, detailing the girl’s impressive accomplishments. “Champion of the 18th Youth Invention Competition…IQ of 174, with four patents in mechanical engineering.”

A spark of interest flickered in Zack’s eyes. This girl, hidden beneath grime and tears, was a prodigy, a genius. Such talent is invaluable. But as he looked at her, the crowd grew uneasy. Some whispered, their eyes darting between Annie and him with a mix of hope and dread.

Sensing the tension, Zack raised a hand in reassurance. “I’m not here to hurt you,” he said. “Unlike them.” He gestured at the bodies of Jacob and his gang, their lifeless forms sprawled across the plant floor. “I’m here to help. I can clear out the zombies around you, bring you food and water…if you cooperate.”

The workers exchanged glances. The promise of food and safety was almost too good to believe, but the tyrany of Jacob’s rule left them desperate. “Do you mean it?” one of the older workers asked, stepping forward with hope. “You’d really protect us…as long as we do what you ask?”

“Yes,” Zack replied, his tone steady. “All I need is for you to make steel for me. I’ll handle the rest.”

Murmurs rippled through the group, and weary faces softened as Zack’s words sank in. But as he continued, his gaze fell on Annie, who was still clinging to her father’s body. “I’ll also need someone skilled. A mechanic who can keep up with my work. I want this girl.”

Silence fell over the factory. Shock flickered across each face as they realized what he was asking. The girl was their only connection to their late director, Sean. Losing her felt like losing another piece of what little they had left. An elderly man, his back bent but his gaze fierce, stepped forward, placing himself between Zack and Annie.

“No,” he said, his voice firm despite his age. “You can take our steel, but you won’t take her.”

"Charles Grant, male, 76 years old, retired metallurgical expert," Ego informed Zack. Another valuable asset, Zack mused, but he held his patience.

“Listen carefully,” he said, his voice firm but no longer hostile. “I’m offering her safety, and a chance to put her talents to real use. She’s a genius, and with me, she’ll be protected.”

Still, the workers hesitated, clinging to whatever moral grounds they could. Then, a quiet, sorrowful voice broke through the silence. “Charles…let her go with him.”

The crowd parted as Annie’s mother, a pale, fragile woman, stepped forward. She knelt beside her daughter, gathering her into an embrace, her hand trembling as she stroked the girl’s short hair. “Annie,” she whispered softly, her voice breaking, “you have to go with him. Your father and I…we can’t protect you anymore.”

“No, Mom! I don’t want to leave you!” Annie sobbed, clutching her mother as if her grip alone could change their fate.

A wave of grief and resignation washed over the woman’s face as she forced a smile. Her body shook, her breaths shallow and labored. Zack noted the unnatural pallor of her skin. “Ego, scan her,” he ordered quietly.

“Name: Morgana Combs. Age: 35. Severe internal injuries. Fatal hemorrhaging…no medical intervention available.”

Zack’s jaw clenched, watching as the woman’s last moments played out. She turned to her daughter, her eyes gentle, filled with a mother’s unwavering love. “Annie, I need you to be brave. This man…he’ll protect you now. You’ll be safe with him.”

The woman’s voice faded, and with a final, loving look, her eyes closed, her spirit drifting away beside her fallen husband. The factory fell silent, broken only by Annie’s choked sobs as she cradled her mother’s lifeless form.

Zack’s faceplate retracted, revealing his youthful face to the astonished crowd. They stared at him, the warrior who had worn the steel armor, now appearing as just a young man with a weary, solemn expression. “Bury the dead,” he said quietly. Then he added, his voice softer, “Bury them together.”

Turning away, he waited as the workers began their grim task, giving them a moment to grieve and honor the ones they’d lost.