Playboy Cultivator in the Apocalypse

"There's an in-tact skyscraper I know of a couple of miles from here." Jackson, the blonde-haired teen, announced, "Let's post up on the top and snipe these freaks in shifts!"

"Into a skyscraper!?" The brown-haired woman with matted hair scoffed angrily, "Are you insane!?"

"I'm not!" Jackson yelled with a fiery temperament, "If Ice General Skye wants us to practice, we should do it!"

"KYahhhHHhahhhHHhahhhhHHhhhH!"

CRaCkkKk! CRaaSHhHh! CRaaackKKkk! BOOM!

Thousands of zombies weaved and jumped over cars on the clogged ten-mile road through the city.

"You call [this] training!?" She scoffed angrily, "Wake the fuck up, kid!

You're already delusional for trusting that woman. Now, as you're about to die, you're still gonna play her games!?"

"Shut the fuck up, Brenna." Keaton, the gruff, bearded man, scoffed, "Training or not, this is a fucking suicide mission--let's just agree on that. She fucked us, now we gotta survive; end of discussion.

Let's talk about survival and keep our opinions about that woman out of it. Two seconds, squirt--why should we practice?"

"Think about it!" Jackson cried, "If Ice General Skye wanted us dead, Aaron would've killed us, and no one would ask questions. She wouldn't have sent a monstrous asset to assess us, either--anyone could do that."

Everyone fell silent, running over the cars with pounding hearts. His logic was sound.

Layla, a blonde soldier, turned around and released a slash attack, cutting through a few dozen zombies that were gaining on them. "Fuck the training! Get on with the survival!"

"Jackson's saying that if we can get Aaron on our side, we'll survive this mess." Chen said, filling in for the trembling blonde-haired teen, "So we should complete our task.

If we complete her orders and prove we're useful, Aaron will help and vouch for us. That's how it works, right?"

Aaron smiled silently, running across cars with a relaxed demeanor. The silent smiles meant yes; they realized he wasn't hiding that.

"I can't believe ya'll are considering doing training right now!" Denzel yelled in disbelief, "Least of all while getting trapped in some sketchy ass building.

Don't fight with a back against a fucking river. That's one of Napoleon's major rules!"

"As opposed to where Denzel?" Chen scoffed, presenting the entire world with his hands, "With our back against an ocean of sick fuckers?

Every damn zombie in a ten-mile radius knows where we are now!"

BOOM! CRAshhHhh! CRaaCKKk! BOOOM! BEEP! Beep! Beep... BEEP!

Explosions, car alarms, and screaming voices drew every sick person in a multiple-mile radius to them.

"We're going to the building!" Eric ordered boldly, silently listening to the arguments to decide, "We'll snipe zombies in shifts. I'm your leader, and that's an order!"

"Unbelievable." Brenna scoffed, "We're telling you this isn't training, and now you're ordering us like it is? Is that a joke?"

"You'll do it if you want to survive." The bald Hispanic man declared.

"You're fucking delusional, Eric." She laughed, "FUCKING DELUSIONAL! You fucked with Mick and got us all in trouble; now we're all in this nightmare.

This is your fault! I'm not going to take orders from you or post up in a sketchy building with a bunch of gross--AHHhhH!"

As she went on her vitriolic tirade, she lost track of her step, and a zombie running at her side grabbed her foot as she jumped onto a truck. She immediately lost balance and flew head-first into the ground.

She was a superhuman with an earth-grade technique--unrefined as it was--so she didn't break her neck. However, she twisted her ankle and fell onto the ground in a daze.

"W-Wha...." Brenna groaned, opening her eyes and finding the wheels of vehicles around her. Her heartbeat skyrocketed as she heard the cultivators running away from her. She got off the ground and hobbled forward. "WAIIIIT! HELP ME!"

"We should help her!" A silent man with a short beard said, seeing a sea of zombies catching up to her position. While he was silent, he was trembling the whole morning in anger.

"You can go back to help your friend, Wilson, but I'm not." Chen yelled, "If she won't stick with us, we won't help her."

"That's what this is, isn't it?" Wilson scoffed, "Party lines, isn't it? You're still bitter we didn't put up with your and Eric's bullshit that night, aren't you?"

"Haven't you paid attention at all?" The Chinese man asked coldly, "Ice General Skye made every single team a mixture between you idiot dissidents and her supporters.

The General is testing if we can get through this division to survive. Brenna said this was our fault, this wasn't training, and that she wasn't going to stay with us.

Brenna failed--party lines have nothing to do with it."

"Oh, it's about training now?" Wilson laughed in disbelief, "You really are delusional."

"Not as much as you are." Chen smiled coldly, "You don't see me arguing about saving someone when they're actively dying and need saving."

The dissident's eyes widened, and he looked back, realizing that he had forgotten.

"AhhHHhhHHhHHH!" Brenna screamed half a mile behind them as a sick person bit into her shoulder, causing blood to gush out. "GET OFF! HELP!"

Wilson turned back to the Chinese man. "We need--"

"Time's a tickin'." Chen said chillingly, cutting him off, "Blame us if you want. It'll just be your turn to be angry that we're not putting up with [your] bullshit."

The dissident pulled his hand back for a slash attack. However, a punch from his right side crashed into the man's jaw, sending him flying into a truck, and knocking him out.

BOOOOM!

"Save your comrade if you want, but don't start shit with this group!" Keaton yelled, jumping onto another car, "You dissidents are fucking stupid.

We're on the verge of dying, and you're still threatening our lives with your petty bullshit."

Denzel's eyes flashed with murder, and he pivoted to face the man. "Do you want to go, bitch!?"

His angered expression flipped when he felt a Guided Arrow directed at his head by the bald Hispanic man leading their group.

"If you're in this group, I'm your leader, soldier." Eric said frigidly, "That's how the military works, even if you hate your general. Now, look at that woman."

Cold sweat dripped down the black man's shoulder blades when he saw the leader's vicious gaze. However, he didn't look.

"I SAID LOOK!" Eric roared, making him turn his head.

-

"GAHHHhhHHh! GET OFF!" Brenna screamed, pulling her arm from a man's jaw, and ripping off muscle.

BOOM!

She grabbed his head with both hands and smashed it into a car at eighty miles an hour, blowing a hole through the car door. It twisted the metal around his neck.

The victory was short-lived. Another dozen sick people ran up, screaming death threats as they jumped onto her.

It was strength versus numbers, and she was no match with a wounded arm and leg. It didn't take long before they overran her, eating her flesh to gain Soul Qi.

-

Denzel watched in shock, seeing the woman viciously torn apart.

"If you don't want to look like that, you and everyone else are following my and General Skye's orders!" Eric said chillingly, "Because I'm not letting people with a grudge against my team leave alive."

The black man felt cold sweat trickle down his forehead, turning to the man slowly. "Look, man. I don't have any problem with ya'll."

"Good, then get fucking moving." Eric ordered, "You're out front, so you can't attack anyone from behind. MOVE!"

Denzel nodded and ran ahead.

"Where's this building?" The bald Hispanic man asked the blonde-haired teen.

"It's two blocks north from here." Jackson announced, "This way!"

Without further discussion, the group left Wilson on the ground, unconscious, allowing the zombies chasing them to eat him alive.

🟇🟇🟇

The group burst through the door of a black skyscraper with asymmetrical windows, proving that the business could construct the building without buying in bulk.

Everyone realized why the teen suggested the building. Beyond the lobby, everything was behind closed doors, ensuring that the sick could only enter from one side.

Moreover, the stairwell was down a hallway, ensuring that zombies couldn't build up momentum before reaching the door. Soon the hall would be packed and no one could grab the handle, let alone break in. It was brilliant.

"Up this way!" Jackson yelled, using a key to lead them through a heavy, reinforced door leading them to a staircase.

"Let's stop here." Eric said, reaching the eighth floor.

"There's a better place." The teen said hurriedly, "I worked here, so I know the best places to snipe people, and the sales floor isn't it."

"It's not about sniping, Jackson." The bald man replied, "We're bad at Qi control. Once we're in that room, killing people with our attacks can cut through support beams.

If that happens, we need a height we can survive a jump from if the building collapses."

The atmosphere froze, hearing his words.

"Don't give me that face." Eric scoffed at the eight stunned people following him, unholstering his pistol, "We'll be clearing it out the conventional way; guns and bashing skulls.

I'm talking about what happens if the sick get up those stairs."

Everyone sighed a breath of relief and complied, unholstering their pistols.

"Okay, team one, barricade the door. They can't get in right now--let's keep it that way. Team two, clear out all the sick in the area. Let's move!"