Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 82: Planning to make the Complex Safe

The dim glow of the emergency lights filtered through the curtains, casting faint streaks of orange across the room. Thomas Estaris stirred, blinking awake as he adjusted to the quiet hum of the complex outside. His muscles were sore, his mind still weighed down by the previous night's decisions.

A soft sigh beside him caught his attention.

Erica.

She lay next to him, still wrapped in the sheets, her bare shoulder peeking out. Her auburn hair was tousled from sleep, her breathing steady. For a brief moment, Thomas allowed himself to admire her—strong, capable, and independent. Unlike many others in the complex, she had never begged for a position, nor had she relied on anyone to survive.

His mind drifted back to how she had ended up here.

Erica had been part of a survivor group they had absorbed months ago. From the beginning, she proved herself—not just as a fighter but as someone who could hold her own in any situation. She wasn't just another refugee looking for protection. She wanted to be on the front lines.

Last night, after the sentencing of the five criminals, Erica had come to his room. One thing had led to another, and now here she was, curled up next to him.

As if sensing his gaze, she stirred, her eyes fluttering open. A lazy smile crossed her lips.

"Morning, Supreme Commander," she murmured, her voice laced with amusement.

Thomas smirked, sitting up and rubbing his face. "Don't call me that first thing in the morning."

Erica chuckled and stretched, the sheets shifting as she did. "Fine. But you are the Supreme Commander, whether you like it or not."

She sat up as well, the air between them comfortable, neither awkward nor overly sentimental. They both understood what this was—two survivors seeking solace in a world that had been stripped of normalcy.

Erica leaned back on her hands. "I've been thinking," she said, glancing at him. "I want to join the army."

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "You're already helping out in the complex."

"I don't mean logistics or patrol duty," she clarified, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "I want to be part of your actual fighting force—the ones who go beyond these walls, who handle real threats."

Thomas studied her, considering. "It's dangerous."

Erica gave him a pointed look. "So is staying here and pretending I'm safe."

He had to admit, she had a point. The walls weren't impenetrable, and there were threats beyond just zombies. Rival survivor groups, remnants of military factions, and lawless bandits—they all posed risks.

"You're a good fighter," Thomas admitted. "But combat in the field is different. You need proper training."

Erica nodded. "That's what I'm asking for. Train me. Make me into something useful."

Thomas exhaled, running a hand through his hair. He had seen her in action before. She had raw talent, but with professional training, she could be deadly.

"Fine," he said. "I'll have you trained with the next batch of recruits."

Erica's lips curled into a smirk. "Good. Now I don't have to waste my time handing out rations."

Thomas chuckled, shaking his head. "You'll regret saying that after the first week of drills."

Erica stood, grabbing her clothes. "We'll see."

She dressed quickly, slipping into her combat boots and jacket. Before leaving, she shot him a final glance. "I'll see you around, Commander."

And with that, she was gone.

Thomas sighed, pushing himself out of bed. There was no time to linger. He had an entire complex to run.

Thomas took a quick, cold shower, letting the water wake him up. His mind was already shifting to the day ahead—laws, penalties, restructuring the governance of the MOA Complex.

The events of last night still lingered in his mind. Banishment was a sentence of death, but it wasn't guaranteed death. If those men survived, what would stop them from doing the same thing again to someone else? That thought unsettled him.

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By the time he was fully dressed, wearing his standard tactical attire, he was ready to confront the day.

He exited his room and headed down the stairs. The command center was just below his living quarters—a makeshift office repurposed from the remnants of the old shopping mall's security hub.

Rebecca was already there, waiting.

A stack of documents sat neatly on the table in front of her.

She looked up as he entered. "Morning, Supreme Commander."

Thomas sighed as he took his seat. "You too, Rebecca."

She slid a thick folder toward him. "Here it is. The proposed laws and penalties for the MOA Complex."

Thomas opened the folder and skimmed the pages. It was well-organized—clear, concise, structured.

"Break it down for me," he said.

Rebecca adjusted her glasses and began. "The core principle is simple: The MOA Complex operates under a structured rule of law, enforced by your administration. Any crimes committed within our borders will be handled accordingly. The penalties scale based on severity."

She tapped the first section. "Minor offenses—such as theft, disruption of order, and negligence—will be dealt with through labor penalties or confinement."

Thomas nodded. "Makes sense. Keep people in line without wasting resources on imprisonment."

Rebecca flipped to the next section. "Major crimes—murder, sabotage, and sexual assault—carry either banishment or execution, depending on your discretion."

Thomas frowned slightly. "Banishment is still our default for severe crimes?"

"Yes," Rebecca confirmed. "Public executions are a last resort. We need to maintain order, not fear."

Thomas leaned back. "Banishment is effectively a death sentence anyway."

"Exactly," Rebecca said. "And it sends a message. Criminals don't get to stay within these walls."

He drummed his fingers on the table. "And what about governance? If we're implementing laws, that means we need a system to uphold them."

Rebecca pulled out another document. "That's covered too. You'll act as the head of state, with your officers enforcing the laws. Civilian Affairs will oversee community disputes and minor cases. For serious crimes, sentencing falls to you."

Thomas exhaled. "So I'm still judge, jury, and executioner."

Rebecca smirked. "You built this place, Supreme Commander. That comes with responsibilities."

He stared at the documents, letting the weight of it sink in. This wasn't just about keeping order anymore. This was governance.

"Alright," Thomas finally said, flipping the pages. "Let's make this official."

Rebecca nodded. "Then we'll begin the announcements today."

Thomas exhaled sharply. A new chapter of the MOA Complex was about to begin.

And with it, a new world order.