Untouched by the Outbreak

Inside the government's last stronghold, a bleak yet organized effort continued to sustain life. In an open area near the stronghold, eleven "specimen zombies" stood as silent guards. Genetically modified to be intimidating but lacking the strength to face off with the new, more ferocious mutant zombies and Brutes, these specimen zombies managed only to ward off the weaker, regular undead. It was a calculated yet flimsy defense, and the soldiers knew it all too well.

Heavily armed soldiers monitored the perimeter as survivors, now laboring as farmers under strict oversight, worked the soil. Rows of potatoes, alongside a scattering of other hardy vegetables, were slowly taking root in the prepared fields. This land was a lifeline, a fragile answer to the stronghold's dwindling resources.

Inside the stronghold's secured meeting room, the Prime Minister sat with generals and high-ranking officials, engaged in a serious discussion about ensuring their future resources. Their immediate concern was maintaining a steady supply of food and essential goods, both for themselves and for the citizens relying on strict rations. Privately, however, it was clear that these officials enjoyed more substantial meals than the rest of the stronghold's population.

They had managed to establish a heavily guarded chicken farm, along with cattle and goats, ensuring a reliable source of protein. Each of these assets was fiercely protected, while irrigation for their farming efforts was fully operational, drawing on a complex waterway system powered by a reliable setup of solar panels. This solar backup provided consistent power, keeping water systems and minimal lighting operational without straining their limited resources.

Their plans remained uncertain and fragile, hinging on the ability to further secure resources without exposing themselves to the deadly threats lurking beyond their fortified walls.

The Prime Minister turned to Dr. Hayashi, the lead scientist responsible for the modified "specimen" zombies that guarded the stronghold. His gaze was stern. "Can you accelerate the creation of more specimens to secure this area? We need more protection if we're going to expand our operations."

Dr. Hayashi smirked, leaning back in his chair with a hint of confidence. "Consider it done," he replied. "Our current specimens will help us capture additional zombies. Once they're in the lab, I can modify them as required. However..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "The process isn't instant. Each specimen requires time for genetic adjustment and stabilization."

The Prime Minister nodded, his expression unyielding. "Take whatever time is needed, but understand the urgency. We can't risk an unprotected expansion. Make sure these specimens are ready for field operations as soon as possible."

Dr. Hayashi gave a curt nod, masking his eagerness to dive deeper into his work. The prospect of modifying more zombies offered him a unique opportunity to advance his research—a chance he wasn't about to let slip by, regardless of the risks.

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Dr. Hayashi's ambitions were clear: an army of specimens, even if it meant sacrificing quality for quantity. He understood the limitations of his creations—each specimen required careful genetic manipulation to even stand a chance against the striders and other mutant zombies. Four specimens were barely able to handle one strider, but he believed numbers could compensate for their lack of strength.

Hayashi's thoughts raced as he calculated what it would take to increase production. More specimens meant not only more protection for the stronghold but a potentially unstoppable force that could be deployed on command. He was willing to cut corners, shorten the modification process, and risk instability if it allowed him to produce more specimens faster.

"Quantity over quality," he murmured to himself. "With enough numbers, even a horde of specimens will have power."

The man knew he'd need more resources, more survivors to capture zombies, and likely more leniency from the government to take risks with his methods. As he returned to the lab, his mind teemed with plans, knowing the day was coming when his specimen army would be the government's most vital weapon—or its greatest liability.

Dr. Hayashi approached the lab containment area, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he observed the new specimen. This one had been successfully captured by his existing batch of modified zombies, a feat that had required careful coordination and, he hoped, would signal a breakthrough in his plans.

The ordinary zombie lay restrained within a reinforced glass chamber, growling softly, its vacant eyes reflecting the cold fluorescent lights overhead. Hayashi studied it, noting its movements, the twitch of its muscles, and the subtle signs of decay. This specimen would be injected with his latest experimental serum—a blend of viral compounds and genetic enhancers designed to increase strength, agility, and a capacity to follow basic commands.

As he prepared the injection, he glanced at the monitors, where his team tracked the specimen's vital signs and mutation markers. He smiled, muttering to himself, "Soon, you'll be more than just a mindless creature. You'll be one of mine."

With steady hands, Hayashi administered the serum, watching as it entered the zombie's bloodstream. Almost immediately, the creature convulsed, its muscles tensing and twitching as the serum began its work. His team watched with bated breath, waiting to see if this one would survive the injection—and if it did, whether it would transform into another obedient asset for Hayashi's growing army.

Dr. Hayashi turned to his team with a sharp nod, signaling them to begin the process. "Proceed with the injections," he commanded, his tone calm but laced with intensity.

The researchers, dressed in full protective gear, moved swiftly, activating the automated injection system. Each zombie was restrained within a separate containment pod, reinforced with heavy glass and steel to prevent any escape attempts during the mutation process. The pods were lined up in a row, and within each, a single captured zombie snarled and thrashed, oblivious to what was about to happen.

The automated injectors hummed to life, each pod's mechanism synchronizing with the master control panel. One by one, needles extended, precisely piercing the necks of each zombie. The injection machines administered a carefully measured dose of Hayashi's viral serum, calibrated to maximize transformation speed while minimizing the risk of destabilizing the subjects.

As the serum took effect, the zombies' bodies convulsed and twisted, muscles thickening and veins darkening beneath their skin. Their eyes, once empty and dull, began to glow faintly, showing signs of heightened awareness. The air was thick with tension as Dr. Hayashi and his team watched, waiting to see if all 15 subjects would survive the transformation.

After several minutes, the first modified specimen went still, then slowly turned its head, its gaze sharper and more focused than before. One by one, the others followed suit, their movements more controlled, their expressions eerily intent. Dr. Hayashi couldn't hide his satisfaction. With these 15 modified zombies, his forces had just grown exponentially stronger—an invaluable addition to his strategy for the stronghold's defense.

Dr. Hayashi's grin widened as he watched the newly enhanced specimens stir to life, each one tethered to his command alone. The government was oblivious to the reality he had carefully hidden—he alone possessed the key to controlling these creatures.

In secret, Hayashi had blended his own DNA and blood into the serum, using his genetic code as a foundation for the liquid that transformed ordinary zombies into obedient specimens. This subtle genetic signature meant that only he could command them, their altered biology resonating with his unique presence. By modifying the serum this way, Hayashi ensured that no one else could replicate his control—these zombies would ignore the commands of anyone else, and no government researcher, soldier, or officer would ever unlock this bond.

Hayashi's vision was clear: an army of loyal, unbreakable warriors, bound to him alone, and, when the time was right, he could steer them toward his own goals. For now, though, he played along, feigning loyalty to the government while secretly building his own unstoppable force.

Dr. Hayashi's smirk turned cold as he considered his options. If the government ever dared to discard him, they would be in for a rude awakening. His specimens were more than mere research subjects—they were his army, programmed to follow him alone.

The thought brought a dark sense of satisfaction. Every specimen he'd created had undergone rigorous conditioning and genetic tweaking. Without his DNA signature as a catalyst, they would become volatile, a hazard to anyone else who tried to control them.

If the government ever attempted to remove him from the facility, he would leave them with nothing but an empty lab and the chaos of uncontrolled specimens. As a final act, he could even set the creatures loose, taking his entire modified army to a secure location he'd already been eyeing as a fallback.

One way or another, he was prepared: either the government would respect his authority and keep him, or he'd walk out with an unstoppable force—one that answered only to him.

Dr. Hayashi's eyes gleamed with anticipation as he gazed at the 15 specimens before him. Each one, injected and modified, was a step closer to his vision of a personal army. But he knew that if he could capture one of the mutant types—the powerful Striders or the elusive Creepers—his research would reach unprecedented levels.

A specimen from a Strider would give him access to raw speed and lethal strength, while a Creeper would bring cunning agility, a perfect mix to engineer his ultimate weapon. The government believed he was solely working for their cause, but his ambitions were far more personal.

One day, he mused, his "enhanced" creations would set a new order in motion—one that he controlled. All he needed was the right opportunity. The next time a mutant roamed close to the stronghold, he'd be ready.