When Zack landed in front of Aegis, the sheer scale of the aircraft was overwhelming. Standing before it in the sleek and compact Apex Mk-2, Zack felt positively diminutive. The new armor, designed for portability and defense, made him just over two meters tall—smaller and more streamlined than any of his previous suits. It exuded advanced technology, a product of Zack's finest engineering, yet it was dwarfed by the hulking presence of Aegis.
Raising his head, Zack gazed at the enormous rhomboid-shaped body of the aircraft, its armor a mix of gold-titanium alloy and alloy steel. Aegis resembled a Avalon, scaled up dozens of times. Its foldable wings housed four massive turbine engines for vertical takeoff, landing, and hovering. At the front, four steering thrusters provided stability for low-speed maneuvers and sharp turns.
The tail featured four jet propulsion engines, two on top and two below, enabling a top speed of Mach 5 and a maximum flight altitude of 5,000 kilometers. With an external booster, Aegis could even reach the first cosmic velocity and enter space.
Despite its size, Aegis's radar signature was smaller than a sparrow's—less than 0.1 square meters—thanks to its stealthy design. When its mirror camouflage and optical cloaking were activated, the behemoth, spanning thousands of square meters, would vanish entirely from sight and radar. Even stationary, its immense presence radiated deterrence. "Can this thing really fly?" Zack murmured, tilting his head to get a better look at the colossal machine. Despite being its creator, seeing Aegis in person made him doubt it could lift off.
Ego's voice broke the silence, launching into an introduction: "Air Command Center—Aegis. Length: 88.4 meters. Wingspan: 98.4 meters. Maximum takeoff weight: 840 tons. Maximum cargo capacity: 300 tons. Powered by eight Singulium reactors—"
"Alright, alright, that's enough," Zack interrupted, raising a hand. "Forget the specs. Let's see what she can do in action."
"As you wish, Sir. What kind of test would you like to conduct?" Ego asked.
"Actual combat," Zack replied without hesitation.
After a brief pause, Ego said, "Coordinates for all hostile forces within Aegis's strike radius have been marked on your HUD."
Zack's HUD lit up with a holographic map of Earth, dotted with countless red markers. Every identified hostile force—zombie hordes, sea creatures, survivor bases that had once attacked NYC, and Vanguard Organization strongholds—was displayed. At first glance, it looked as though the entire world was against him. "Wait a minute," Zack said, narrowing his eyes. "Didn't you say you marked enemies within Aegis's strike radius? Why does it look like the whole planet is lit up?"
"Sir, that's because the entire world is within Aegis's strike radius," Ego replied, a hint of amusement in its tone.
Zack blinked, then laughed. "Of course it is." Aegis had no conventional strike radius. Its crew survival module allowed it to operate for six weeks without landing—or up to 24 weeks with optimal resource management. With Avalons capable of ferrying supplies back and forth, Aegis could theoretically remain airborne indefinitely.
"Ego, I think I'm falling in love with this big guy," Zack said, activating his thrusters to hover closer to Aegis's underbelly.
As Zack approached the massive aircraft, he couldn't help but admire its sleek design. The sheer size, coupled with its advanced technology, made it a marvel of engineering. "Ego, prepare Aegis for deployment," Zack said, his excitement barely contained.
"Understood, Sir. Would you like to pilot it yourself?"
"Of course," Zack replied with a smirk. Zack tapped the belly armor of Aegis twice, the dull sound of metal reverberating through the air as Apex Mk-2's gauntleted hand collided with the behemoth.
"Alright," he muttered, eyes narrowing on the holographic map before him. "Let's deal with the Vanguard bases near our doorstep first." His gaze settled on a location in the far north—Nunavut. In the northern hemisphere, the Vanguard Organization had four bases, with another in the southern hemisphere. Among them, Nunavut was the closest. It was the obvious first target.
Meanwhile, in Nunavut. The icy wastelands stretched endlessly under a bleak, gray sky. In the middle of the desolate expanse stood a massive survivor base, fortified with high reinforced concrete walls that seemed out of place in the barren tundra. "AHHH!!!" A sudden scream pierced the frozen silence, echoing through the base.
The source was an old, blind man curled on the ground, his voice ragged with panic. His cries soon drew a crowd of onlookers, survivors from the base who whispered amongst themselves.
"Old Charlie's screaming again…"
"Bet he's out of vodka. Told you not to give him too much yesterday."
"Anyone got extra contribution points? Let's pool together and buy him another bottle."
The group muttered, exasperated but strangely protective. Despite their grumbling, they couldn't bring themselves to leave the old man entirely alone. Someone finally returned with a fresh bottle of vodka, holding it out to him. "Here, old man. Drink this and calm down."
But as the bottle approached, Charlie slapped it away, sending it crashing to the ground. "Demon!" he howled, his voice hoarse but filled with terror. "It's a devil! The devil is coming! I saw it!"
He clawed at the dirt, ignoring the shards of broken glass cutting into his hands. "Giant birds in the sky! Horned demons descending! Disaster is coming for us all!"
The crowd watched, unsettled, but eventually dispersed. "Forget it," someone muttered. "He's finally gone completely mad."
Soon, only Charlie remained, muttering incoherently about devils and disasters as blood from his palms mixed with the spilled vodka. Unbeknownst to him, a figure cloaked in black stood nearby, listening intently. The stranger recorded every word of Charlie's ramblings before disappearing into the shadows.
Minutes later, the base erupted into activity. Groups of black-clad soldiers streamed out from its inner sanctum, their boots pounding against the ground as they moved with purpose. Machine guns were mounted on the walls, their barrels aimed outward in anticipation of an attack.
These soldiers were no ordinary survivors. Their muscular physiques, enhanced exoskeletons, and uniforms bearing animal insignias marked them as part of the Vanguard Organization's elite forces. Despite the show of strength, the truth behind the base's construction was far darker.
Like many others, the Nunavut survivor base was built atop an underground facility belonging to the Vanguard Organization. Under the guise of offering protection, the organization used these bases to brainwash survivors into joining their ranks—or to experiment on them. Old Charlie was one such victim. Once a mutant with prophetic abilities, he had been subjected to relentless and invasive experiments. Now, his mind was fractured, his prophecies dismissed as the ravings of a lunatic. But the base's leaders didn't take his warnings lightly.
They ordered martial law, their soldiers remaining on high alert for the "devil" and "giant bird" Charlie had foreseen. Unfortunately for them, their preparations were inadequate. The true scale of the coming disaster was far beyond their imagination.