Untouched by the Outbreak

The prime minister leaned forward, his fury still palpable after hearing the report about the man who could walk among zombies. But something else was gnawing at him, a piece of the puzzle that didn't quite fit. His mind shifted to another enigma—Dr. Kurose's daughter. How had she managed to survive in this hellish world, seemingly untouched by the hordes of the undead?

He turned his piercing gaze toward the mysterious man sitting quietly in the room, his voice cold and commanding. "And what about Dr. Kurose's daughter? How has she managed to stay safe from zombie attacks? The last report said she was being guarded by a zombie. Different from any mutation we've seen."

The room grew even quieter, the weight of the question hanging in the air. The mysterious man, calm and composed, took a breath before answering. "Yes, Prime Minister. The last confirmed sighting showed that she was, indeed, guarded by a zombie. But this one is unlike anything we've encountered before. It doesn't match the mutations we've studied, like the Striders, Brutes, or Creepers.

It seems… different."

The prime minister's eyes narrowed as he absorbed the information. "Different how?"

The mysterious man's voice was measured, almost clinical. "The zombie appeared to exhibit a level of intelligence and loyalty, something we've never documented in the others. It followed her, protected her, and even eliminated any threats that approached. Our last scouting mission reported that this particular zombie wasn't just faster or stronger—it was more strategic in its movements.

This isn't like the usual mindless horde."

The prime minister's fingers tapped against the table again, his brow furrowing. "And her last location? What did we find?"

The mysterious man's expression darkened. "The last scouting team that tracked her reported seeing her in a small abandoned building on the outskirts of the city. They were prepared to capture her, but before they could close in, all communication was lost. When reinforcements arrived, they found nothing. The area was empty, and all of our personnel were dead."

The prime minister clenched his fists. "Dead? What the hell happened?"

The mysterious man shook his head slightly. "We're still unsure. It's likely the work of that special zombie guarding her. No one survived long enough to give a detailed report. All we know is that the place was deserted when we got there. No sign of her, no sign of the zombie.

It's as if they disappeared into thin air."

The prime minister sat back in his chair, frustration tightening his jaw. "So, we have no idea where she is now?"

The man shook his head again. "None, Prime Minister. She could be anywhere by now, and with that zombie protecting her, it's going to be nearly impossible to get close without losing more men."

The prime minister growled under his breath. "And this special zombie—it's different from anything else we've encountered. Stronger, smarter… What the hell are we dealing with?"

The room remained silent as the gravity of the situation settled in. Not only was Dr. Kurose's daughter still at large, but she was also guarded by a creature that defied everything they thought they knew about the zombie virus.

The prime minister's gaze hardened. "We need to find her. I don't care what it takes—more drones, more resources, whatever you need. We have to capture her, and we have to neutralize that zombie."

The mysterious man nodded. "Understood, Prime Minister. But I must warn you—this isn't going to be like any other mission. If that zombie truly is different, it might be even more dangerous than the mutants we've faced so far."

The prime minister leaned forward, his voice a low growl. "I don't care what it takes. I want them found. And when you do… bring them both to me. Alive."

The tension in the room remained thick as the prime minister turned his steely gaze toward the mysterious man. His voice, though calm, held a sharp edge. "So, do you think these thirteen of your genetic zombies can handle the one guarding Dr. Kurose's daughter?"

The mysterious man, always composed, took a brief pause, carefully choosing his words. "There's a possibility," he began, his tone measured. "But without enough data, we cannot be sure."

The prime minister's eyes narrowed. "Possibility? That's not enough. We need certainty. This... thing guarding her is unlike anything we've seen.

Stronger, faster, smarter. It eliminated our best men without breaking a sweat. What makes you think your specimens can handle it?"

The mysterious man leaned forward slightly, folding his hands together. "Prime Minister, these thirteen genetic zombies are the culmination of years of research. They have been modified for enhanced speed, strength, and cognitive abilities—far surpassing the standard infected. However," he added cautiously, "the specimen guarding Dr. Kurose's daughter operates outside of what we currently understand.

It appears to have a unique bond with her, making it unpredictable. That's what makes this situation... precarious."

The prime minister's frustration simmered beneath the surface. "Precarious or not, we need results. That girl holds valuable knowledge, and I want her under our control. And that thing guarding her—it needs to be neutralized."

The mysterious man nodded slowly. "I understand, Prime Minister. I'll accelerate the testing and deployment of the genetic zombies. They may be our best chance at securing both Dr. Kurose's daughter and her protector."

The prime minister glared at him. "Accelerate them how?"

The man met his gaze. "By testing them in the field immediately. We can send them into controlled areas of high zombie density to see how they perform. If they survive, if they outperform the mutants we've encountered so far, then we'll know they're ready to face something like the guardian."

The prime minister leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. "And if they fail?"

The mysterious man's eyes darkened slightly. "Then we go back to the drawing board. But right now, Prime Minister, they are the only weapon we have capable of standing against such a creature. We need to take that risk."

Silence filled the room as the prime minister mulled over the proposal. Finally, after a long pause, he nodded. "Fine. Test them. But don't bring me any more 'possibilities'—I want results. If these genetic zombies can't handle a threat like that, then they're worthless to us."

The mysterious man stood. "Understood, Prime Minister. I'll prepare the deployment immediately."

As the man turned to leave, the prime minister called out, his voice cold and commanding. "One more thing. If they succeed, I want Dr. Kurose's daughter alive. But her protector... I don't care how you do it.

Destroy it."

The mysterious man nodded once more before exiting the room, leaving the prime minister alone with his thoughts. The stakes were growing higher, the game more dangerous. Dr. Kurose's daughter and her guardian represented a threat—and an opportunity. But whether these modified zombies could face this new kind of enemy remained to be seen.

Outside, the cold winter continued to bite at the world, and the relentless horde of zombies still prowled the land. But now, a new breed of terror was about to be unleashed, one that might change the balance of power in the struggle for survival.

Meanwhile in Another Part of Japan

A young girl sat beside the crackling fireplace, her slender frame huddled close to the heat as the biting winter air filled the dilapidated room. She rubbed her hands together, trying to warm up her body, though the cold seemed to seep into her bones. Around her stood a group of new mutations—zombies, but different. These were her father's creations, his final invention before the world fell apart.

Their light brown skin glistened in the firelight, their bodies more muscular than the average zombie.

These weren't just any zombies; they were the result of years of research and experiments. Her father had managed to modify the virus, turning these undead into what he called "prototypes." They were faster, stronger, and smarter than regular zombies. But she didn't care. Her family was gone—her father, murdered by the very government he had once served.

And now, all that was left were these 12 prototypes, her only companions in a world overrun by death.

The documents—the ones her father had worked on so tirelessly, detailing a cure, a way to stop the outbreak—had been burned to ash. She had made sure of it. There would be no cure, no salvation, not after what they had done to her family. Her father had believed in saving humanity, but after witnessing the horrors of government betrayal, she had no intention of helping anyone.

The fire devoured the pages, and with them, any hope of ending the outbreak.

The prototypes, slightly taller than regular zombies, stood sentinel around her. Despite their formidable appearance, she knew they were no match for the Striders or the night-hunting Creepers. Those creatures were too fast, too dangerous. The prototypes had their limits, and that frightened her more than she liked to admit. But for now, they kept the regular zombies at bay.

The genetic modifications made the zombies fear her, an unseen connection binding them to her will. None of them dared to come near her, their creator's daughter.

As the fire crackled and dimmed, she sighed, pulling her jacket closer. "Father... I'm doing fine," she whispered into the flames, as if her father's spirit lingered in the warmth.

Despite the bitter cold outside and the ever-present danger, she remained composed. She had learned to survive, to fight, to trust no one but herself. When the night fell, she would retreat to the room she had found—a small, enclosed space with a sturdy door.

She knew the prototypes couldn't defend her against Striders or Creepers in open space, but inside, with the door closed and the prototypes surrounding her, she stood a chance.

As she gazed into the fire, her mind wandered back to her father's last words, the day he handed her the key to his research. "No one can be trusted," he had said. "Not the government, not the survivors... No one." And she had believed him. The government had taken everything from her—her family, her home, and any hope she had once clung to.

Now, all she had left were these twelve prototypes, a grim reminder of her father's legacy.

"Once this fire dies, I'll head back to the room," she murmured to herself. The night was approaching, and with it, the Striders and Creepers would soon be on the hunt. But for now, she had her father's creations, and they would protect her—at least until the morning.

As the flames flickered lower, casting long shadows on the walls, the girl leaned back, staring into the darkness beyond. She knew the world outside was brutal, but here, among the prototypes, she had carved out a fragile existence. And that was enough—for now.

Yumi stared into the dying flames, her thoughts drifting back to the days before the outbreak, to a time when the world was still intact. She closed her eyes, remembering her father's warm smile that always greeted her after long days of research.

No matter how busy he was with his work, he would always find time for her, offering her comfort in the form of gentle words or a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Those memories felt so distant now, as if they belonged to a different lifetime. But she held on to them, because they were all she had left.

She missed the warmth of those moments, the sense of safety that came with her father's presence. Back then, she never could have imagined that everything would unravel so quickly. The day it all changed was seared into her mind, a memory that replayed itself in her nightmares. She could still hear the distant sound of heavy boots pounding against the lab floor, the voices shouting orders.

Soldiers had stormed the lab, their faces hidden behind helmets, their guns raised and ready. They had come for her father.

Yumi had stood frozen, wide-eyed with fear, as the soldiers closed in. Her father, Dr. Kurose, had been working frantically at his desk, papers scattered everywhere. When he realized what was happening, his eyes widened in horror. But instead of panicking, he moved with swift determination. He grabbed a small key from a drawer and turned to Yumi, his face pale but resolute.

"Yumi, take this," he had said, pressing the cold metal key into her trembling hand. "It's the key to my secret chest... in our house. You'll understand everything when you get there. But you need to run, Yumi. Now!"

Before she could process his words, the door burst open. Soldiers swarmed in, their rifles pointed straight at her father. They shouted commands, but she couldn't hear anything over the deafening sound of her heartbeat. She wanted to scream, to rush to his side, but her legs felt like lead.

And then, everything happened in a blur. Her mother, a fierce and determined woman, had burst into the lab, a gun in her hand. She wasted no time, firing back at the soldiers to protect them. "Yumi! Run!" her mother had yelled, her voice breaking through the chaos.

Yumi had hesitated, her heart torn between staying and running. But her mother's next words had been filled with desperation. "Go, Yumi! Now!"

It was her mother's sacrifice that had saved her. She remembered the look of determination in her mother's eyes as she stood between her and the soldiers. Her mother had been a policewoman, brave and unyielding, and in that moment, she had fought to protect Yumi with everything she had.

Shots were fired, and Yumi had been pulled out of the lab by her mother's last words, her feet finally moving as she fled.

She had never looked back. The last image burned into her mind was her mother standing her ground, gun raised, firing at the soldiers who had come to kill them. It was the last time she had seen her alive.

Yumi shook herself out of the memory, tears stinging her eyes. She couldn't afford to cry now. Not when the world had become so merciless. Her father's key, the one he had given her in those final moments, was still tucked safely inside her jacket.

She had found the secret chest in their house, just like he had told her, and inside, she had found the documents, the research, and the truth behind everything. But she had burned it all.

The fire before her was almost out now, the embers glowing faintly in the darkness. Her heart felt heavy, but she forced herself to focus on the present. She couldn't change the past. She couldn't bring her family back. All she could do was survive, for their sake.

"Father... Mother... I won't let your sacrifices be in vain," she whispered into the quiet night.

With a sigh, she stood up and glanced at the prototypes surrounding her, their light brown skin and muscular bodies standing still in the shadows. They were her father's final creations, and they were all she had left now. But even with their strength, Yumi knew the world had become far more dangerous than anyone could have imagined.

"Follow me," Yumi commanded, her voice steady and cold. The twelve prototypes stirred from their idle positions around the dying fire, moving as one unit. Their light brown, muscular forms moved with silent precision, two of them taking point in front of her while the others followed in tight formation. Their movements were unnervingly coordinated, a testament to her father's genetic modifications.

She had seen firsthand what they were capable of—how they tore through the soldiers who tried to capture her. Soldiers, armed with the best weapons, clad in advanced armor, trained for years—none of it mattered. The prototypes were faster. Their reactions outpaced human reflexes, dodging bullets with terrifying agility, closing the distance in seconds, and killing with a ruthless efficiency.

Still, Yumi was no fool. Despite their lethality, she knew their limits. She had watched them in combat long enough to understand how they fared against the different mutant types that plagued the land. Against regular zombies, the prototypes were unstoppable. Against soldiers, they were lethal. But when it came to the new mutations—the Striders and the Creepers—it was a different story.

It took three prototypes to bring down just one Strider or Creeper. Those things were faster, stronger, and more cunning than any human or ordinary zombie. Striders moved like predators, their speed and agility unmatched, while Creepers, especially at night, became nearly invisible in the shadows, striking with terrifying precision.

Yumi had seen her prototypes struggle, their collective strength barely enough to bring down these evolved threats.

She clenched her fists as they moved through the barren, snow-covered landscape. The cold air stung her skin, but she barely noticed. Her thoughts were focused on the future, on survival. She was all alone now, but with the prototypes at her side, she had a fighting chance.

Her father's inventions were the only reason she was still alive, and though they weren't invincible, they were the best weapon she had.

The last battle replayed in her mind—the soldiers, heavily armed, trying to take her captive. They had underestimated her father's creations, thinking their guns and numbers would be enough. But they were wrong. The prototypes had torn through them, their enhanced bodies darting between gunfire, dodging bullets like they were nothing. The soldiers didn't stand a chance.

Yumi smirked at the memory. She didn't feel pity for the soldiers. After all, it was their government that had killed her father and mother. They deserved everything that had come to them.

But even as she recalled the prototypes' prowess in battle, a sense of unease crept into her heart. She knew better than anyone that these victories were only temporary. The world outside was changing. The zombies were evolving faster than her father had predicted. And while the prototypes were her strongest weapon, they weren't invulnerable.

Tonight, like every night, she would find a safe place to rest, a room with a door that she could lock while the prototypes stood guard outside. They would protect her as they always did, and she would make sure to stay one step ahead of anyone—or anything—that tried to find her.

"Father… Mother… I won't let them win," Yumi whispered to herself, steeling her resolve as she led her group deeper into the darkness.