Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 43: Some Irate Survivors Part 1

As Thomas dismissed the meeting, Phillip went into the room and saluted.

"Pardon for the interruptions, ladies and gentlemen, but can I borrow our Supreme Commander for a few seconds?"

"What's this about Phillip?" Thomas asked.

"I'd like to discuss it in private."

"Don't worry, you can have our Supreme Commander as we have just finished our meeting," Rebecca said as she smiled warmly.

"Thank you, ma'am?" Phillip asked.

"Rebecca, Rebecca Langley. I'm the newly summoned official of Mr. Estaris. I am the Director of Civilian Affairs."

"Director of Civilian Affairs?" Phillip repeated as if pondering something. "Very well, I think you should come with me as well Ms. Langley. The concern is related to your position."

Thomas glanced at Rebecca and then back to Phillip. "Very well, let's convene in my office."

The two followed Thomas to his office. They entered the office with Phillip closing the door behind him.

"Have a seat you two," Thomas gestured to the two vacant chairs.

"Thank you sir, but this won't take long," Phillip said as he gathered his thoughts.

Rebecca looked at Phillip, waiting for him to reveal what he wanted to tell.

"Sir, we have a situation with a group of survivors," Phillip began. "They're causing a bit of trouble and demanding to speak with you directly."

Thomas leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. "What kind of trouble?"

Rebecca observed silently, waiting for more details.

"They're a group of South Korean survivors," Phillip explained. "Apparently, they were part of an event at the MOA Complex when the outbreak started. They've been stuck here ever since, and now that they see the place getting rebuilt, they're demanding immediate repatriation to Korea."

Thomas frowned. "Koreans? Who are they exactly?"

Phillip sighed. "They call themselves RAVE. A K-pop group. Four members, all women, plus their manager."

Thomas blinked. "A K-pop group? You're telling me that out of all the survivors, a bunch of idols have somehow managed to survive in MOA all this time?"

Phillip nodded. "Yes, sir. Apparently, they locked themselves inside a VIP suite at one of the hotels when things went to hell and had enough supplies to last a while. Eventually, they ran out of food and had to start scavenging. They linked up with other survivors before we found them."

Thomas crossed his arms. "So, what's the problem?"

"The problem isn't them, sir. It's their manager," Phillip said, his jaw tightening. "He's loud, aggressive, and incredibly entitled. The moment we processed them at the survivor intake, he started demanding to meet with the 'person in charge.'"

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. "Demanding?"

Phillip exhaled sharply. "Yeah. He's convinced that since we're rebuilding, we have the means to send them back to Korea. He's been yelling at my men, cursing in both Korean and English, calling us incompetent, and treating my soldiers like they're his personal staff. I nearly lost my patience and punched him."

Thomas smirked. "I would've paid to see that."

Phillip snorted. "Well, I would've enjoyed it, sir, but I didn't want to set a bad example in front of the other survivors."

Rebecca tapped her fingers on the desk. "So, to be clear, the idols themselves aren't the problem? Just their manager?"

Phillip nodded. "Correct. The four members of RAVE seem fine, a bit shaken but grateful to be alive. It's just their manager who's making things difficult."

Thomas sighed. "Great. Another headache."

Phillip glanced at him. "Orders, sir?"

Thomas thought for a moment before standing up. "Let's go meet them. If their manager tries anything stupid, I'll handle it myself."

Rebecca stood as well. "I'll come along. If they're civilians, it falls under my jurisdiction."

Phillip smirked. "This is gonna be fun."

Thomas rolled his eyes. "Let's get this over with."

***

Thomas, Phillip, and Rebecca walked through the streets of the MOA Complex, heading towards the buildings where the survivors were assigned. As they moved, Thomas took a moment to observe the surroundings.

The streets, once desolate, were now alive with activity. Military trucks rumbled past, delivering supplies, while construction workers reinforced barricades and set up additional fortifications. The sounds of welding, hammering, and heavy machinery echoed across the district.

Among the survivors walking around, Thomas noticed something peculiar—there were a lot of foreigners. Americans, Europeans, Chinese, Japanese, Koreans—people from different nationalities were present. It made sense; before the outbreak, Manila had been a hotspot for international tourists, business travelers, and entertainment events. Many of them must have been stranded when society collapsed.

No wonder I raked in so many Blood Coins from saving them, Thomas mused.

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Phillip, walking beside him, cleared his throat. "Sir, you should probably be prepared for whatever nonsense that manager is going to pull."

Rebecca sighed. "I don't understand why people still act entitled after everything that's happened. They're lucky to be alive."

Thomas smirked. "Some people don't change, no matter the circumstances."

The trio arrived at Shore Residences – Tower B, where the South Korean survivors had been housed. Two armed guards were stationed outside one of the rooms, standing firm with their rifles slung over their shoulders.

One of the guards, a burly-looking soldier, saluted as they approached. "Sir, the group is inside. The manager has been shouting for the past hour, demanding to see you."

Thomas exchanged glances with Phillip, who simply shook his head in irritation.

"Alright, let's get this over with," Thomas muttered before stepping forward.

The soldier opened the door, and as soon as it swung wide, a voice erupted from inside.

"What the hell is taking so long?! Do you people even know who you're dealing with?! This is unacceptable! I demand to speak to your leader—"

The man's ranting stopped the moment he saw Thomas step into the room, followed closely by Phillip and Rebecca.

The room was relatively spacious, a repurposed hotel suite converted into temporary housing. The four members of RAVE were sitting on the couch, looking uncomfortable as their manager stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, an expression of frustration on his face.

The manager was a short, stocky man in his late forties, with neatly combed black hair and an expensive-looking suit that was now wrinkled and stained from weeks of surviving in a collapsed world. His eyes immediately locked onto Thomas.