Untouched by the Outbreak

The room, which had begun to fill with cautious optimism, grew tense again as one of the doctors from the Research and Development team cleared his throat, addressing the mysterious man. His expression was grim, a look of uncertainty clouding his features.

"Don't get your hopes up too much," the doctor began, his voice calm but edged with doubt. "Even if these modified zombies are faster and more obedient than the regular ones, we have no data suggesting that they can handle the Striders, Creepers, Brutes, and other mutants lurking outside. Those things… they're on a completely different level."

The others in the room fell silent, eyes shifting between the two men. The general seemed to tense slightly, as if the doctor's words had reignited his earlier skepticism. Even the prime minister narrowed his eyes, waiting for the mysterious man's response.

That man, unfazed by the doctor's remarks, leaned back slightly, crossing his arms. His calm, almost indifferent demeanor remained intact as he replied, "True, we don't know if these modified specimens will be able to handle the larger threats—like the Striders or Brutes. But that's not the point."

The doctor raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for an explanation. The man continued, his tone steady, "These specimens are not intended to take down every mutant out there. They are, however, an immediate solution to ensure our safety—especially around the perimeter of this base.

Their purpose is to deter ordinary zombies and give us a controllable force that reacts faster than human soldiers in certain scenarios. They're an added layer of defense, nothing more. At least for now."

The prime minister leaned forward, intrigued once more. "And you're saying they could help us claim land, small areas to expand our control?"

The man nodded. "Exactly. While we may not be able to storm entire towns or take back the major cities yet, these modified zombies can help us secure smaller zones—areas around the base or key locations we need. Think of them as sentries, guarding against regular zombies and perhaps even distracting the larger mutants. It's a start, Prime Minister. Small progress, but progress nonetheless."

The doctor sighed, clearly still not fully convinced, but he didn't push further. "I just want it on record that we should not depend entirely on these specimens for dealing with mutants. They may provide temporary relief, but we will still need a better strategy for facing the more advanced zombies."

The prime minister turned to the doctor, acknowledging his concern with a nod. "Understood, Doctor. We'll proceed with caution, but we need every advantage we can get right now."

The mysterious man glanced around the room, noticing the mixed expressions of doubt and hope. His gaze landed on the general, who had remained skeptical throughout the conversation. "These specimens are not a miracle cure, but they are a step forward.

If we use them wisely, they'll give us time—time to come up with better strategies, better defenses, and perhaps, one day, a way to deal with the Striders, Creepers, and Brutes head-on."

The general crossed his arms, nodding slowly, though his skepticism didn't fully dissipate. "We'll see how effective they are in the field. I'll reserve judgment until then."

The prime minister, his mood lightened by the discussion, stood up and motioned to the door. "Alright. Let's move forward. Deploy the modified specimens around the perimeter. We'll evaluate their performance and adjust from there. For now, this is our best shot at survival and expanding control."

The prime minister sat back in his chair, deep in thought, as the meeting slowly wound down. But one final matter lingered on his mind, a matter more critical to their future survival than any modified zombie. His face grew stern as he turned his gaze toward the leader of the special forces, a man whose reputation preceded him—cold, methodical, and efficient in his every mission.

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"Tell me," the prime minister said, his voice carrying the weight of command, "what is the current status of the search for Dr. Kurose's daughter?"

The room fell silent again, the air heavy with anticipation. The leader of the special forces, a man with sharp features and a hardened expression, stepped forward. His tactical gear was pristine, a testament to the fact that he hadn't been in the field in some time, though his reputation spoke of countless successful missions.

"Prime Minister," the special forces leader began, his voice steady and measured, "we're doing everything we can to locate her. Our drone surveillance is limited due to the lack of resources and the heavy snowfall obstructing our visuals. Despite the challenges, we are still scanning key areas where she might be hiding."

The prime minister narrowed his eyes. "Limited? We can't afford to be limited when it comes to her. Dr. Kurose's daughter holds valuable information. She might be the key to ending this outbreak or at least helping us understand what the hell is going on with these new mutations.

She is the last link to her father's research."

The leader of the special forces nodded, but his face remained grim. "I understand, sir, but the situation on the ground makes it nearly impossible to send personnel to scout her out. The area is swarming with zombies—Striders, Brutes, and other mutants. No one can walk through without being detected. Even our best-trained operatives stand no chance against the sensitivity of these creatures."

He paused, letting the gravity of the situation sink in before continuing, "We've attempted stealth, utilizing camouflage, staying motionless for hours, even deploying our best snipers to observe from a distance. But the zombies seem to have an enhanced sense of awareness. Any movement, any sound, even from highly skilled operatives, draws their attention almost immediately.

They can sense us, even if we're not in direct sight."

The prime minister frowned, the frustration evident in his eyes. "So you're telling me we can't get to her? That she's out there, with critical knowledge that could save us, and we're helpless?"

The special forces leader's gaze remained steady. "For now, sir, yes. Without more advanced technology or a drastic change in the situation, we cannot send men in without losing them. The risk is too high. The zombies are not the same as they once were—they've evolved. They move faster, hunt better, and detect humans more easily than ever before."

The prime minister slammed his hand on the table, the force reverberating through the room. "Damn it! This is unacceptable! We can't just sit here and let the chance of finding her slip away."

The leader of the special forces remained silent, knowing that there was little he could offer in the way of reassurance. The prime minister's frustration was justified, but the reality of the situation was far more dire than they had hoped.

After a moment of tense silence, the prime minister spoke again, though his tone had shifted from anger to a cold determination. "Continue with the drone surveillance. Focus all available resources on locating her. I don't care how long it takes or how difficult it is. We need her, and we will find her."

The special forces leader nodded. "Understood, Prime Minister. We'll keep searching, but I must caution that even if we do locate her, extraction will be nearly impossible under the current conditions. We'll need a solid plan—something more than brute force—if we are to succeed."

The prime minister's jaw tightened as he stared out the window at the snowy landscape beyond the fortified base. "Then make it happen. I don't care what it takes. She's too important to lose."

The room remained heavy with tension as the meeting came to an end. The leader of the special forces saluted and exited, already forming plans in his mind to continue the search for Dr. Kurose's daughter. Time was running out, but they couldn't afford to fail.

As the prime minister sat in his chair, deep in thought, the weight of the world pressed harder on his shoulders. Dr. Kurose's daughter was the key to unlocking the secrets of the outbreak, but finding her was proving to be an impossible task. Yet, in the back of his mind, he knew that failure was not an option. Too much was at stake.

The prime minister's fingers drummed impatiently on the cold wooden table, his eyes narrowing as he turned his attention back to the leader of the special forces. His frustration had already reached its peak with the difficulties of finding Dr. Kurose's daughter, but now, there was another thorn in his side—a man who could walk among the zombies, unaffected by their presence.

This man, whoever he was, could be the key to everything: a weapon, a cure, or worse, a threat.

"So," the prime minister said, his voice low and demanding, "what about the man who can walk among the zombies? Have we located him?"

The leader of the special forces hesitated, a brief flicker of frustration crossing his face. He cleared his throat, preparing himself to deliver the bad news. "It's been difficult to locate him, sir. He moves with extreme caution, always staying out of sight. The last intel we gathered led us to a house we believed to be his hideout. But when we arrived, the place was already burned down.

He's covering his tracks, making sure no one follows him."

The prime minister's fist came down hard on the table, sending a shockwave through the room. "This motherfucker just vanished like that? After everything? After all the resources we've wasted trying to catch him? Damn it!"

The room fell into a tense silence. No one dared to speak as the prime minister glared at the table in frustration. His eyes burned with anger and desperation—he knew how critical it was to find this man. If they could get their hands on him, the entire game would change. They could reverse-engineer whatever made him immune to the zombies or use him to control the outbreak.

But now, it seemed this man was intentionally staying one step ahead, slipping through their fingers at every turn.

The leader of the special forces continued cautiously, "We believe he's actively hiding from us, Prime Minister. He's aware that we're after him, and he's taking extreme measures to avoid capture. Our intel suggests he's been on the move constantly, never staying in one place for too long. His ability to blend in among the zombies gives him a distinct advantage over us."

The prime minister gritted his teeth, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the table. "What a fucking nightmare. We need him alive. We need to figure out how he's doing it—how he's avoiding the zombies. This could change everything!"

The special forces leader nodded, but his expression was grim. "Yes, sir, but it's becoming increasingly difficult to track him. The winter has made surveillance harder, and the longer we take, the more time he has to disappear. He may have even left the region entirely by now."

"Unacceptable!" the prime minister roared, standing up from his chair. "We cannot afford to let this man slip away! He's a goddamn goldmine of information, and we're losing him."

Silence once again hung heavy in the air, the frustration thickening the tension in the room. The prime minister paced behind his chair, his mind racing through options, plans, and contingencies. He knew that capturing this man could unlock untold possibilities, not just for survival but for domination.

"Send more drones. Expand the search perimeter. I don't care how cold it gets out there or how many men we lose—we need to find him." The prime minister's voice was laced with cold determination. "And when we do, I want him brought here. Alive. No mistakes this time."

The leader of the special forces nodded curtly. "Understood, Prime Minister. We'll double our efforts. I'll make sure every available asset is dedicated to finding him."

The prime minister sat back down, his fury barely contained. "Good. Because if we don't find him soon, there's no telling what kind of hell we'll be facing. This man could hold the key to everything—or he could be the reason we all fall."