Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 147: Not Giving Thomas a Rest

The Next Morning

The ceiling above Thomas was still. No flickering lights. No red emergency glow. Just clean, diffused daylight streaming through the metal-slat windows of his room.

If he were to ask about one thing, he loved waking up with the sight of the ceiling of his room and the steady hum of a functioning ventilation system.

He shifted slightly.

Something warm stirred beside him.

Erika's breathing was soft, her head resting lightly against his shoulder, one arm draped across his chest like she had claimed that spot and refused to let go. She was still wearing part of her undersuit—the Overwatch gray base layer clinging to her frame—but her vest and boots had long since ended up in a pile by the door.

Thomas stared at the ceiling a moment longer, unsure what to feel.

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The night before wasn't something he had planned. But he definitely loved every second of it.

They'd left the Texas Roadhouse stall in silence. No declarations. No false comfort. Just a glance. A nod. And the understanding that after everything—after the jungle, the chanting, the Prophet, and the screaming—maybe they deserved a night to stop pretending they didn't feel something human.

He'd barely locked the door behind them before Erika's hands had found his collar. Her kiss was hesitant at first, like she was waiting for him to pull back. He didn't. He couldn't.

It wasn't rushed. It wasn't slow. It just was.

Neither of them spoke as they enjoyed that moments. And when her kiss grew passionate, he reciprocated her efforts and threw her in the bed and railed her for thirty minutes until he poured all of his hard work inside of her.

Now, as the morning light spilled across the room, Erika shifted beside him again—murmuring something incomprehensible under her breath before burrowing deeper into the crook of his arm. Her hair smelled faintly of sweat and recycled shampoo, her body warm beneath the shared blanket.

He could've stayed like that longer. Maybe he wanted to. But his job as the Supreme Commander of Overwatch didn't go to sleep.

After all, he has a briefing with his senior staff at the command room at nine o'clock in the morning.

Thomas exhaled quietly.

His right hand brushed against Erika's wrist, still draped across his chest. She didn't stir. He allowed himself one last minute of stillness.

Then, slowly, carefully, he slipped out from under her arm.

The floor was cold as he stepped on it and walked towards the bathroom. He entered and caught his reflection for a moment—eyes shadowed, stubble thick across his jaw, and a faint red line along his collarbone from where Erika had clung to him last night.

He washed his face slowly. The cold water shocked him back into focus.

This wasn't civilian life. This wasn't downtime.

This was the morning after eliminating a death cult.

And Overwatch needed him awake.

After toweling off, he returned to the main room, pulling on his standard field undersuit—black and snug, layered for both protection and mobility. His armor was stacked neatly on the bench by the wall, cleaned and repaired sometime overnight by the quartermasters. His rifle rested in its rack beside the sealed locker. All in order.

Erika was still sleeping, one leg tangled in the sheets, her hair splayed across the pillow. She looked at peace in a way that felt foreign to this world.

For a brief moment, Thomas envied her.

He stepped closer and picked up his vest. As he slid into it, Erika stirred.

Her eyes opened slightly, bleary and unfocused.

"…Already?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Thomas glanced at the clock. 08:17.

"I have to be at the command center, there is a job to do," he said.

Erika blinked, exhaled through her nose, and shifted onto her side. "You always move like the world's about to collapse."

He smirked faintly. "Because it is."

She didn't argue.

Instead, she reached out and tugged the blanket tighter around herself. "You'll be back?"

Thomas clipped his radio to his belt, then glanced over his shoulder.

"I will."

That was all she needed.

By the time he stepped out of the room and locked the door behind him, the hallway outside the Conrad Building was already awake. Troops jogged in formation across the upper walkways. Logistics officers reviewed inventory tablets, while maintenance crew passed by doing checks on every room and cleaning them.

Moments later, he arrived at the command center.

The doors slid open with a mechanical hiss.

Inside, the command center, the military staffers present inside all rose and gave him a salute. Thomas put them at ease and they immediately returned to their work. A large holo-map projected a rotating 3D image of Luzon, with crimson markers spread across it, indicating a lot of things based on the legends.

Phillip stood near the center of the chamber, arms folded, eyes locked on the display.

"Morning," Thomas greeted as he stepped in.

Phillip turned slightly. "You're early. Coffee?"

Thomas shook his head. "Already had breakfast."

"Right," Phillip said, suppressing a smirk. "You looked... well-rested."

Thomas didn't bite.

Instead, he walked to the briefing table, tapping his ID key against the scanner. The interface lit up. Files opened. The Crimson Dawn After Action Report populated with casualty logs, survivor breakdowns, chemical weapon assessments, and drone-captured footage from the ruined chapel and bunker.

"Give me the status," Thomas said, settling into his chair.

Phillip leaned over, tapping several sections of the map.

"We've secured the compound site. Engineering teams are going in today to either salvage or bury it. We've flagged three potential Crimson splinter cells based on coded messages recovered from Montano's terminal. All of them are in Central Luzon—no further south."

Thomas reviewed the markers. "Meaning?"

"They weren't meant to spread. Crimson Dawn wasn't expansionist. They were a local doctrine. Rooted and isolated."

Thomas stared at the map for a moment. "And now they're uprooted."

Phillip nodded. "But not gone. But there is another thing we saw and it will be reported by your Chief of Staff."

"What do you mean you saw something?" Thomas tilted his head to the side.

"Let's just say it's more bad news than the cult," Phillip replied.

"What the hell is it? Don't tell me, after we just dealt with the cult, we are dealing with another?"; Thomas said.

Phillip simply nodded.

"Shit," Thomas cursed under his breath.