Code Zulu Alpha: Nerd in the Apocalypse!

Chapter 1047 Strugglers III

Chapter 1047 Strugglers III

I would've loved to see his reaction the moment his voice cut off, but I was already inside the door within .001 seconds of the flashbang going off. Luckily for him, he jumped to the side to avoid tumbling into Bordz's blood but unluckily for him, the side he chose was directly in front of me, and he received another concussion that ultimately knocked him out. However, his cavalry still wouldn't end or get paused here because all we needed was to relocate next door and start over.

That's what we did word by word but I did turn to Mimi to ask for something:

"Hey, can you ask one of the residents for an iron?"

"A-A what?" Mimi responded shakily as she saw me dragging Mr. Crisologo's ripped-up, bleeding body from the room she had just cleaned earlier.

"I need something to stop the bleeding. Just tell them I'll replace it tomorrow…"

"..."

"Mimi?"

She was still looking at my nonchalant expression before she snapped out of it and nodded, "O-Okay… I-I know a couple from— I'll get on it!"

With that said, Mimi made her way back to one of the main wings of the hospital where some of our people were staying to retrieve an iron not to remove the creases from our clothes but to treat his wounds. Sure, there were a lot of other ways to treat his full-body injury but he was our fucking hostage, not our patient.

On that note, it was easy enough to lay him flat on his stomach on the table while completely restraining him, and if he ever managed to get out of these ropes and handcuffs after waking up, I could just easily knock him out again and rinse and repeat.

But yeah, Mimi had never looked so distraught the moment she handed me this pink-colored iron with several cutesy stickers but to me, it was the most fucked up thing ever because I'd rather die than get shot with an AK with the same decal and anime stickers on it.

"W-Won't you need more than that? H-He might d-die from the p-pain and shock…"

I shook my head as I pulled out a small bottle of alcohol from my pack, "I'd hate to give him anything but this will do. He'll probably even thank me for it compared to painkillers and whatnot…"

"..."

"You don't have to stay, alright? You can go home or continue to work—"

"I-I'll be at Dr. Nichols' office…"

"Sure…"

As she turned around and walked away, I turned to my group and all they could do was either shrug their shoulders or completely do nothing like me because there really was nothing to be done at that point except for them to completely absorb and adjust to their surroundings.

In hospitals, they should've been more accustomed to death among other people but usually, it was the sickness that consumed them rather than people like myself.

But yeah, it didn't take long before I moved the table Mr. Crisologo was on closer to the power socket before I started closing his wounds with this pink iron.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

Ignoring the rancid smell coming out of his body coupled with the sound of his flesh burning, the scream he let out that slowly turned into this high-pitched squeal almost sent me, but he quickly passed out from my first attempt to heal him by turning him like a panini.

It's just that I'd have to press this now fucked-up looking iron that had his bits and pieces sticking to the bottom a dozen more times because one, I fix what I broke and this was one way of doing it.

But yeah, as funny as it may look seeing him wake up and then pass out from the pain, he was already in tears from the fourth press. I wondered if I might need another iron because even if I could scrape off his bits from under the thing, I just wanted to cover a lot of surface area.

However, without so much as a prompt, the motherfucker finally sang his first tune:

"STOP! STOP! STOP! PLEASE! I-I'M— I'M B-BEGGING YOU! I— AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Stop my ass, it's either this or you bleed out—"

lightsn?v?l "THEN WHO'S FUCKING FAULT WAS IT?!"

"Wanna lose the other ear? Who fucking tried to case me?"

"THAT'S— IT'S PART OF THE GAME— AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! YOU MOTHERFUCKER! AHHHH! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! CAN YOU GIVE ME A BREAK AT LEAST?! I-I'LL TELL YOU ONE OF THEM! I'LL TELL YOU ONE OF THEM— AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE— I—"

"You tell me everything or I just might continue doing this even if you're fully closed up. There's also the matter of you lying through your teeth but either way, even if you have powerful friends, you think I don't? Why would I be scared of you?"

"I— I JUST NEED A SECOND YOU FUCK!"

"Sure."

"WHA—"

"Time's up—"

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! I'M REALLY GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU! I SWEAR I—"

Then I pulled out my trump card, "Vodka? I'll feed it to ya, if you turn the volume down a bit. We're the only ones here, you know?"

"YOU— G-Give me! I—"

At this point, Mr. Crisologo was like the Hungry-Hungry Hippos but for Vodka because right now, it was the only thing he could grab on not just for the pain, but to also keep his mind intact because there was only so much a person could do—even if they were a struggler—and everyone has their limits.

And yeah, having a few gulps from the small bottle I had somehow calmed him down and I used it as the opportunity to ask some questions:

"Alright, I'll take one of your many friends. What's his name and his current whereabouts? Is he part of a community or is he leading one of them? Number of soldiers? Is he part of another group or just your very own circle? Tell me everything—"

"Alright! Alright…" he trailed before I noticed a hidden smirk, "One of them's Christian Felix Garciano— AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

At this point, I didn't think he'd pull that shit but he didn't think I'd clip one of his fingers off either.