“Sir, I’d say it’s that stash of weapons they’re carrying.”

“No, wrong answer—it’s greed!” Zack chuckled, leaning back as he watched the scene unfold on the satellite feed. He had no intention of stepping in; Ego’s calculations assured him that his two mechanical beasts were more than enough to handle the situation.

Inside the compound, the mechanical spider, even after losing a leg, continued to fight without hesitation. Its combat AI instantly adjusted, recalibrating its balance to move smoothly on three legs while dodging the hail of Gatling gunfire. The mechanical dog, however, demonstrated even more advanced tactics. The moment it identified the Gatling gun as a threat, it shifted its approach, strategically using the criminals as human shields.

Yellow Dog, the gang’s leader, grew increasingly frustrated as every shot he fired at the mechanical dog ended up hitting one of his own men. “Damn it, this thing’s too smart!” he shouted, sweat dripping down his face as the relentless machine closed in on him.

Regret crept into his mind as he thought back to his plans—his betrayal of Arthur and Scorpion, his grab for control of the base, and his ambitions to dominate nearby survivor camps with the stolen weapons. Now, all of it seemed futile as he faced the brutal precision of Zack’s creations. Desperate, he shouted to one of his men, “Keep them busy! Someone get the bazooka!”

Two of his followers scrambled to obey, rushing to the convoy to grab a rocket launcher. But the machines were too fast, constantly shifting positions, making it almost impossible to get a clear shot.

“Wait for my signal!” Yellow Dog barked, his voice tinged with desperation. He continued firing wildly, trying to limit the mechanical dog’s movements. The chaos grew as more of his men were caught in the crossfire, but he didn’t care about the casualties anymore. “Now! Fire! Blow that thing up!”

“But boss—our guys are in the way!” one of his men stammered.

Yellow Dog spun toward him, his face a mask of rage. “I said fire!”

Reluctantly, the two men fired the rockets, each missile streaking toward the mechanical dog. The blasts roared through the air, leaving smoky trails as they closed in.

The mechanical dog’s AI detected the incoming projectiles instantly, calculating its next move in mere milliseconds. It darted toward a nearby wall, using it as a springboard to leap into the air. Bounding from surface to surface, the mechanical dog skillfully evaded both rockets in one fluid motion.

Boom! Boom!

The rockets exploded against the wall, sending shockwaves through the room. The force propelled the mechanical dog forward, but it twisted mid-air, using its sleek, armored tail for balance. It landed gracefully, the shrapnel from the blast bouncing harmlessly off its reinforced shell. With a metallic snarl, the dog surged toward Yellow Dog, ignoring the panicked criminals scattering in its path.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

The entire counterattack unfolded in seconds. Yellow Dog barely had time to react before the machine was nearly upon him. “Damn it!” he yelled, unloading his magazine at the approaching beast. In his panic, he didn’t notice the mechanical spider creeping closer from his blind side.

BAM!

A sharp, bladed leg from the spider pierced straight through Yellow Dog’s chest. His eyes widened in shock, his mouth opening and closing as if to speak, but no words came out. Blood trickled from his lips as the limb retracted, leaving him to collapse lifelessly on the ground.

“N... no…” he whispered, his voice fading as he slumped into the dirt. Behind him, the two men who had fired the rockets fumbled to reload, but their hands shook so badly that they dropped the weapon. It didn’t matter—the mechanical dog leapt over Yellow Dog’s corpse, closing the gap in an instant.

“No! Please, don’t—!”

Their cries were cut short as the dog’s alloyed teeth tore into them, ending their lives in seconds.

From the satellite feed, Zack observed the aftermath with a grim expression. He shut off the display and walked to the helicopter waiting nearby. As the chopper touched down in the prison courtyard, the scene outside was grim—bodies and debris scattered everywhere, the metallic scent of blood hanging thick in the air.

Stepping out, Zack spotted a group of terrified criminals on their knees, their weapons tossed aside. They were trembling uncontrollably, flinching every time the mechanical dog, its eyes glowing a menacing red, circled them. The sharp, acrid smell of urine joined the stench of blood and death.

Zack wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Finish them,” he said flatly, turning his back on the prisoners as he strode toward the convoy. Behind him, the sound of screams and metal slicing through flesh filled the air, followed by silence.

“Ego,” Zack called out as he began inspecting the loot, “give me an inventory report.”

His AI assistant’s voice was calm and efficient. “M16 automatic rifles, F2000 assault rifles, RPG-7 launchers, M24 sniper rifles, fragmentation grenades…”

As Ego listed off the weapons, Zack’s attention landed on a Gatling gun. He picked it up, feeling its weight with a smirk.

“M134 Minigun,” Ego explained. “Caliber: 7.62mm, firing rate: up to 6,000 rounds per minute.”

“This’ll make the MV-02 a real war machine,” Zack muttered, already planning modifications. The other weapons wouldn’t go to waste either—they’d fit nicely into his mansion’s auto-defense system or be mounted on his mechanical creations.

Looking around, Zack sighed. “Could’ve used those idiots to haul this stuff to the chopper,” he remarked dryly. With everyone dead, the task now fell to him. Mildly amused, he started loading the gear himself.

“Ego, are there still people alive in this prison?”

“Yes, sir. Survivors are locked in the cells. They were lured here by fake radio broadcasts,” Ego replied.

Zack nodded, his face hardening as he headed into the building with the mechanical dog at his side. He left the spider behind to guard the helicopter and weapons.

Inside, the stench of rot and filth was overpowering. Activating the MV-01’s air purifier helped slightly, but the foul smell clung to the air. Each cell he passed was the same—cramped, filthy, and filled with malnourished survivors. Their hollow eyes stared back at him with no emotion, just a vacant emptiness that spoke of their suffering.

The farther Zack walked, the worse it got. Garbage and waste covered the floors, the toilets overflowed, and the prisoners had clearly been surviving on barely edible slop. Many looked too weak to stand.

“If it weren’t for you, Ego,” Zack muttered under his breath, “I’d probably be rotting in a place like this too.”

At the end of a dim corridor, he came upon a group of women huddled together. Their eyes widened in terror as they spotted Zack and the mechanical dog blocking their only escape.

“KYAAA!!!”

One woman dropped to her knees, trembling. “Please, don’t eat me!” she begged.

The others followed, crying out for mercy, their voices cracking as fear overwhelmed them. Zack stood silently, his gaze cold as he took in their desperate pleas.