I've Come to Wipe Them Out

Jun-ho waited patiently, holding his notepad up toward the camera lens. A minute or so passed. Creeeak. Clatter. A section of the ceiling, made of the prefabricated panels commonly used for offices and warehouses, slid open, and a stainless steel ladder descended. It was as if it were inviting him up. However, Jun-ho didn't climb it; instead, he let out a faint, cynical smile. "Trying to pull a cheap trick on me..."

Jun-ho pretended to check his wristwatch, then wrote something on his notepad and held it up to the lens again.

Jun-ho tore off the page he had shown first and held it up alongside the new one. Then, he tapped the radio attached to his tactical vest. It was a bluff, of course. Communication was impossible because there was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠no signal, but the survivors on the 8th floor had no way of knowing that.

A few more minutes passed.

"...Come up. Slowly. But if you attack us first, we will retaliate."

A man's voice, thick with tension, drifted down. Only then did Jun-ho walk toward the ladder. But even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠then, he didn't climb up immediately; he sent his mini-drone up first.

"Eek!"

"What is that!?"

Crash! Thud! Startled by the rapidly ascending mini-drone, the survivors erupted into a cacophony of panicked shouts from both men and women. Only after confirming the situation above through the drone did Jun-ho climb the ladder.

The survivors, armed with knives, wrenches, fire axes, and makeshift spears—screwdrivers taped to the ends of wooden beams—stood four or five meters away from the ladder, watching him. They were clearly intimidated; Jun-ho was physically imposing, dressed in all black, wearing a motorcycle helmet, and even carrying a firearm—whether it was real or not, they couldn't be sure. Fear and tension were written all over their faces.

To show he had no intention of attacking, Jun-ho raised both hands to shoulder height and slowly removed his helmet.

"Oh..."

Only after his face was revealed did the survivors' tension ease slightly. To put it kindly, Jun-ho's face was neat; to put it bluntly, it was unremarkable. However, in a world where most people couldn't even wash properly, a survivor with a face as clean as Jun-ho's was a rare sight. Because of this, the gazes of the survivors holding weapons—especially the young women—shifted subtly.

"Now, as I said, I have some business on this building's roof. I have no ill will toward you, and I won't harm you."

"H-how can we trust you?"

Jun-ho turned his head toward the voice he had heard from below the ladder. A disheveled man in his 30s, with long hair tied back in a ponytail and a patchy beard, was glaring at him while gripping a wooden beam wrapped with a large kitchen knife.

"Well, how can you trust me... How about this?"

"...?"

The moment the man narrowed his eyes, Jun-ho shrugged as if casually lowering his hand, then lightning-fast, pulled a throwing knife from his tactical belt and hurled it.

Clang!

The knife flew in the blink of an eye, striking the weapon the man was holding. The sheer force behind the knife caused the man to drop the wooden beam.

"Argh!"

The man let out a short scream and stumbled back a few steps.

"Oppa!"

"B-boss!"

The survivors, only just realizing what had happened, were thrown into a panic. Then, Jun-ho's calm voice reached their ears.

"I could have aimed for your head. And this is even faster."

As the shocked survivors whipped their heads around, Jun-ho tapped his Glock 17.

"Do you believe me now? If I had wanted to, I could have killed all of you the moment I came up here."

"...!"

"By the way, there's about 3 minutes left. Will you be okay? If I don't appear on the roof, my colleagues will move immediately."

"Ah!"

"W-what do we do!"

The man with the ponytail, who had been among the panicked survivors, spoke urgently. "I believe you. I'll believe you. Go on up. T-this way!"

Jun-ho followed the man as he hurried ahead, and the dozen or ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠so survivors parted like an ebbing tide to let him pass.

Installing the portable relay was remarkably simple. Thanks to Choi Jung-woo, who had worked part-time at a mobile communications company right after graduating high school, Jun-ho had learned how to set it up.

Beep.

Jun-ho connected the battery he’d brought in his backpack and turned on the power. He spoke in a low voice.

"I've connected the relay. Can you hear me?"

"Phew..."

Hearing Akina's emotionless voice, Jun-ho finally let out a sigh of relief.

"Send two drones here. Have one update the aerial map and the other start reconnaissance and surveillance."

He had spent nearly 300 million won just on high-end industrial drones and spare parts, as they had a flight time of nearly an hour, making them ideal for reconnaissance and surveillance. He had planned to use only 10 for the first year after the apocalypse and keep the other 10 in reserve, but already, drone No. 9 was being deployed in the field. Even then, he had been using relatively cheap modular drones for the shelter and its safe zone, which was why he hadn't yet opened the packaging for drone No. 10.

Still, too many drones were in the air today. Knowing the reason well, Jun-ho asked Akina, "What's the situation with Jun-hyeok and The First Apartments?"

Ten seconds later, Akina's voice returned.

"...Right."

Jun-ho had been about to ask to see the footage from the drones monitoring that area, but he swallowed his words. There was nothing he could do even if he watched the situation from here. Today, he had to trust Song Ki-jun, the Search and Destroy Squad, and his brother, Jun-hyeok. He also had to trust Yun Yeong-su and the AI Akina, who were running some of the shelter's systems in idle mode while handling the control and monitoring of all the drones.

"I'll have to set aside some time to upgrade the servers and the AI computing system..."

As Jun-ho muttered to himself, recalling what Yun Yeong-su had said a while ago, someone spoke to him cautiously.

"Um... are you all done?"

Jun-ho nodded at the words of the man with the ponytail, who had come up to the roof with him.

"Yes. I'm finished."

"Then, could you please leave now? Oh, and about the promise..."

"I keep my promises. And I'm leaving, so don't worry."

"Ah, yes."

Seeing the man with the ponytail staring at him with anxious eyes, Jun-ho pointed to the sky and said, "Do you see that? My colleagues sent drones this way."

"...!?"

The man with the ponytail and a few survivors who had followed him to the roof turned their bodies in the direction Jun-ho pointed. Two tiny dots, which one might mistake for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠black birds at a glance, were flying toward them.

"One will patrol this area, and the other will hover above this building to monitor the surroundings. If anything happens, they'll let me know. So, I'll be staying here a little longer. Let's talk a bit."

"Excuse me? Um, that's not what you said earlier..."

As the man with the ponytail looked troubled, the women beside him stepped in.

"Oh, really. Just listen to him, boss. He seems to be from another neighborhood, and it wouldn't hurt to get to know him, right? He doesn't seem like a bad person."

"That's right. And this oppa has a gun, and he's controlling those things, too."

"O-oh, really? Then, shall we?"

Jun-ho felt slightly puzzled by the man's reaction. In the apocalypse, the strong were kings. Because of this, women, who were physically weaker than men, were usually dominated in most survivor groups; it was rare for them to be on equal footing like this. Regardless, he had confirmed that while they were still afraid of him, they were willing to talk. Jun-ho took a pouch out of his backpack and showed it to them.

"Do you happen to need things like this?"

"What is that?"

A woman, who appeared to be in her mid-to-late 20s—her face obscured by a mask—showed curiosity. Jun-ho opened the pouch and revealed the contents.

"Anti-diarrheals, painkillers, and antibiotics. I also have water purification tablets that turn water into drinking water."

"Really!? Do the painkillers work for menstrual cramps, too?"

"Of course."

At Jun-ho's answer, not only the woman who had first spoken but also the others who had been hesitating and watching the situation flocked toward him.

"There are 60 pills of each, so you'll be able to use them for a while."

"Wow! Thank you. Thank you so much, oppa."

As Jun-ho handed over the entire pouch, the woman who had spoken to him bowed her head deeply, then took off her mask and gave him a smiling look. Her face was bare and a bit dirty, but she looked like she would be quite pretty if she were dressed up. Then, the other women followed suit, taking off the scarves or masks they had wrapped around their faces.

"Jeong Se-young, you fox. You're trying to seduce him again."

"Oppa! Where did you come from? Is that really a real gun?"

"A lot of zombies passed under our building earlier. Did they follow you? The sound reached all the way up here, and it was really scary."

"But this oppa has a really good body. Our boss still has a belly."

"Hey, I've lost almost all of it. I've lost 15kg in half a year."

"That's true. Boss, you've been looking fit lately."

Following the women, who all looked to be in their mid-20s to early 30s, the 'boss' with the ponytail and the other men joined in.

"By the way, boss, what kind of shop do you run in this building?"

Jun-ho, feeling a bit overwhelmed, spoke to the boss, who looked to be in his mid-30s.

"Ah, me? I'm the owner of the karaoke bar here. These girls are the hostesses who work at our karaoke bar, and this person is our employee."

Lee Won-o, 36 years old this year, was the owner of the 'Welcome Norae Bar' and the landlord of the Jaeseong Building. He was a silver spoon who had lived comfortably off the rent from the building he inherited from his father, who had passed away a few years ago, and the profits from the karaoke bar he ran himself, along with owning a dozen apartments and several commercial properties in Seoul and the metropolitan area.

"...This place is close to the subway station. There are five apartment complexes, and it's a neighborhood with many studio and two-room apartments, so the location is great. So, even though it was a recession, our karaoke business wasn't bad. But..."

Lee Won-o, his tension eased more than it had been during their first meeting, was talkative. However, since Jun-ho had almost no information about Mok-u-ri, he listened patiently as Lee Won-o shared stories that might prove useful.

"...Those foreign friends over there came from Pyeongtaek because they trust me, and Se-young and Su-ji have been working at our shop for almost a year. I don't know if you're aware, but it's rare for people to work in one place for that long in this industry. So, I..."

Lee Won-o had been hit by the apocalypse just as he was about to start cleaning up with his staff after sending off the last of the regular customers who had been drinking since 7 AM during the summer holidays. He had been trapped in the karaoke bar with the three women who were preparing to leave after returning to the waiting room to rest for a moment after seeing off the last guests.

It was a sense of responsibility, but perhaps also a strange surge of courage; he had taken one of his employees, run to a motel, and brought back the women who were sleeping soundly.

"The karaoke bar has quite a lot of water, drinks, and food. We just survived on that."

Since it was an establishment that made and sold snacks, the large commercial refrigerators were stocked with plenty of food, and they had also gathered all the food from the fitness center, which had been empty that morning, so there was no major problem for the three men and six women to live there. Above all, since he was running the business in a building he owned, installing solar panels and a 20kW ESS battery to save on the electricity bill for the karaoke bar, which used a lot of electricity due to various lighting, had been a stroke of genius.

Just being able to continue using various electrical appliances, including the refrigerators, had significantly increased their survival rate. They had hundreds of bottles of commercial water, and they had managed to survive by rationing the large water tank on the roof.

"But for a building of this size, didn't other people try to target it?"

"They did. That's why we built the stairs between the 7th and 8th floors the way we did. I almost died working on that."

"Hmm. If you clear the obstacles on the 8th-floor stairs, the zombies in the PC bang will attack. So you stacked them loosely, aiming for that."

"Huh? Yes. You know your stuff."

Lee Won-o reacted with surprise at the regressor's sharp observation.

"Then what about the secret passage here?"

"Ah, before I inherited this building, I ran a large club-style hunting pocha from the 7th to the 9th floor. That's the location of the stairs I built inside the shop back then. I went broke and rented it out. At that time, I just made the stair area into a warehouse for each floor using prefabricated panels. So it was easy to break through."

It was a method only possible because it was his own building, where he knew everything inside and out and could secretly use shortcuts.

"But... why did you come all the way here, Jun-ho?"

As the question he had been waiting for finally came out, the eyes of the 'Welcome Norae Bar' survivors, who had been watching Jun-ho, sparkled.

"You know the Gukje Gang, right?"

"...!"

"Those gangster bastards!?"

At Jun-ho's answer, not only Lee Won-o but also the two male employees and the hostesses were all startled. Working in the entertainment industry in Mok-u-ri, they couldn't possibly not know the only real organized crime group in the area. But at Jun-ho's immediate follow-up:

"I've come to wipe them out."

"What!?"

They were even more shocked. And right at that moment:

"..."

Jun-ho's eyes turned cold. Except for the Benelli, both firearms were Chinese-made, and both were models equipped with suppressors. And Jun-ho immediately realized how a suburban gang in the metropolitan area could possibly possess such firearms.

'Daeseonghoe...'

It seemed this fight wouldn't be easy.