SORRY MISS CEO, YOUR BILLIONS ARE USELESS!

Chapter 4: Batman Boxers, A Giant T-Shirt, and The Loyalty Deposit

     Morning in the bunker didn't come with a sunrise. It came with the harsh, buzzing hum of the LED ceiling lights flicking on at exactly 7:00 AM, accompanied by a digital rooster crowing through the intercom.

Rangga stretched on his cot, popping his back. He had slept like a baby. It turned out that being encased in a titanium cube while the world ended outside did wonders for his insomnia.

Across the room, Zahara looked like she had been dragged backward through a thornbush.

She was sitting on the edge of the cheap folding sofa bed, staring blankly at the concrete floor. Her designer blazer was draped over a chair, smelling faintly of bleach and zombie guts. Her white blouse was wrinkled beyond repair, and her immaculate updo from yesterday was now a chaotic bird's nest. Her dark circles could rival a panda's.

"Morning, tenant," Rangga chirped, tossing his blanket aside. "Sleep well?"

Zahara slowly turned her head. Her eyes were bloodshot. "The mattress feels like it's stuffed with gravel. And your 'air purifier' hums in the exact frequency of a dentist's drill."

"Ah, the sweet sound of not being eaten," Rangga smiled, completely ignoring her murderous glare. He walked over to the metal storage locker and pulled out a bright pink plastic laundry basket. It was overflowing.

He placed it right at Zahara's feet.

"As discussed," Rangga said, tapping the rim of the basket. "Laundry day."

Zahara looked down. Sitting right on top of the pile was a faded, slightly threadbare pair of boxer briefs with a cartoon Batman logo on them.

Her eye twitched.

"You can't be serious," she whispered. Her voice was raspy, stripped of its usual commanding CEO velvet. "You are actually making me, the head of the Nusantara Syndicate, a woman who had the Mayor of Jakarta on speed dial... wash your cartoon underwear. By hand."

Rangga grabbed a large yellow bar of cheap laundry soap from the locker and tossed it to her. She caught it out of reflex.

"The Mayor is probably a zombie snack by now, Zahara," Rangga said, pulling up a plastic chair and sitting backward on it, resting his arms on the backrest. "But hygiene is eternal. Bathroom's in the back. There's a plastic washboard in the tub. Use muscle."

[SYSTEM ALERT: HOSTILITY DETECTED! BABU STRESS LEVEL RISING!]

Zahara stood up. She gripped the bar of yellow soap so tightly her knuckles turned white. For a brief, terrifying second, Rangga thought she was going to try and shove the soap down his throat.

Instead, she snatched the pink basket, her chest heaving with silent, apocalyptic rage, and marched toward the small bathroom at the back of the bunker. She slammed the door so hard the metal frame rattled.

A moment later, the sound of violently running water and aggressive scrubbing echoed through the bunker.

"Oh, she is MAD mad!" the System’s voice boomed in Rangga’s head, sounding like it was eating imaginary popcorn. "Her aura is pitch black! Extracting rage energy... 20%... 50%... 80%!"

Rangga leaned back, highly amused. "Can you actually use that energy for something other than the roof guns?"

"Host, please! I am the Pusako Fortress System! Pure emotional distress is highly combustible!" A green holographic panel materialized in front of Rangga.

[DAILY CHORE IN PROGRESS: LAUNDRY OF HUMILIATION.] [EMOTIONAL KINETIC ENERGY HARVESTED: 1500 POINTS!] [BASE UPGRADE AVAILABLE!]

[Would you like to upgrade 'Bunker Water Filtration' to Level 2? (Cost: 1000 Points). Includes hot water access and complimentary basic wardrobe set.]

"Hot water? Say less. Purchase it," Rangga muttered.

[UPGRADE COMPLETE. HOT WATER UNLOCKED.]

Inside the bathroom, Zahara was taking all her life's frustrations out on the washboard. She scrubbed a faded t-shirt like she was trying to erase it from existence.

"I'll buy his family. I'll buy his whole bloodline," she muttered to herself, her hands covered in cheap, lemon-scented suds. "I'll make him scrub the streets of Sudirman with a toothbrush..."

Suddenly, the freezing cold water coming out of the tap shifted. Steam billowed up into her face. The water was gloriously, perfectly warm.

  Zahara stopped scrubbing. She stared at the warm water running over her hands. After the twenty-four hours she’d had—the apocalypse, the blood, the freezing sterilization shower, the sheer loss of her entire empire—the simple feeling of hot water on her skin almost broke her. She let out a shaky breath, closing her eyes for just a second to enjoy the warmth.

Twenty minutes later, the bathroom door clicked open.

Zahara walked out, carrying the basket of wet, clean clothes. She looked different.

[SYSTEM REWARD DISPENSED: BASIC WARDROBE SET.]

Instead of her ruined, blood-stained business attire, the System had provided her with the only female clothing option currently registered in its Level 1 database: a pair of oversized grey sweatpants and a massive, baggy black t-shirt that had "REBAHAN 4 LYFE" (Chilling for Life) printed on the front in neon green letters.

She looked like a grumpy teenager on a Sunday morning. It was a massive downgrade from her Prada suits, but it was clean, dry, and soft.

Rangga had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing. "Nice shirt."

"Say one more word and I will strangle you with the Batman boxers," she threatened, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that the sleeves of the shirt were past her fingertips. She began hanging the wet clothes on an indoor drying rack.

"Noted," Rangga said, turning his attention to the main hologram screen. "Come look at this."

Zahara rolled her eyes but walked over, drying her hands on her baggy sweatpants.

   The screen showed the street outside. The massive pile of black sludge that used to be the Deli Crawler was still there, but the regular zombies had mostly scattered, wandering aimlessly in the morning fog.

But that wasn't what Rangga was looking at.

Hovering about twenty feet in the air, scanning the ruined street, was a sleek, black, military-grade quadcopter drone. It had a glowing red camera lens that darted back and forth.

Zahara’s breath hitched. She pushed past Rangga, her hands slamming onto the control console as she stared at the screen.

"That's a Kestrel-9," she breathed, her eyes wide with sudden hope. "The Syndicate uses them for aerial reconnaissance. Rizal... Rizal is alive. He’s looking for me!"

She turned to Rangga, the Ice Queen persona instantly snapping back into place despite the oversized t-shirt. "You see that? My Head of Security is out there. He has an armored convoy. If you open that door and let me flag down that drone, I will guarantee your safety. I will make you a captain in my personal guard. You'll never have to live in this metal box again."

Rangga looked at the drone on the screen, then at Zahara's desperate, hopeful face.

[SYSTEM ALERT: EXTERNAL ENTITY DETECTED.] [FACTION: NUSANTARA SYNDICATE (ARMED).] [THREAT LEVEL: HIGH. THEY HAVE ROCKET LAUNCHERS, HOST.]

Rangga leaned against the console, crossing his arms. He didn't look impressed.

"Let me get this straight," Rangga said slowly. "You want me to open my blast doors, during a zombie apocalypse, to signal a drone controlled by a heavily armed mafia faction that you used to run?"

"They are my men!" Zahara snapped. "They are loyal to me!"

"They were loyal to your money, Zahara," Rangga corrected bluntly. "Money that is currently worthless. What happens when your boy Rizal rolls up with heavily armed goons and realizes his boss is currently wearing a 'Rebahan' t-shirt and living in some guy's bunker?"

Zahara opened her mouth to argue, but the words died in her throat. Her mafia instincts, dulled by the shock of the apocalypse, kicked back in. Rangga was right. The underworld respected power. Without her wealth and her headquarters, she was just a liability. If Rizal had survived and secured the convoy, he was the new boss.

"He... he wouldn't," she said, though she didn't sound convinced.

On the screen, the drone suddenly pivoted. Its red lens locked directly onto the CCTV camera of the bunker.

Rangga raised an eyebrow. "Looks like he found us anyway."

A loud, electronic chime echoed from the bunker's external comms system. A voice crackled through the speakers. It was a man's voice—deep, authoritative, and completely devoid of warmth.

"To whoever is inside that bunker," the voice of Rizal Harahap echoed through the street outside. "My thermal scans show two heat signatures inside. One of them matches the biometric profile of Zahara Nasution. Open the door and hand her over, and I will let you live."

Zahara’s face went pale. He didn't say 'rescue the boss'. He said 'hand her over'.

Rangga looked at Zahara, suppressing a smirk. "Wow. Your boys are super loyal. So, what's the plan, Ms. CEO? Want me to open the door?"

Zahara looked at the screen, then down at her baggy sweatpants, and finally at Rangga. The pride drained out of her, replaced by a cold, hard survival calculation.

She gritted her teeth, hating the words as they left her mouth.

"Don't you dare touch that door," she hissed.

[DING!] [TENANT LOYALTY INCREASED! MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!] [NEW TITLE UNLOCKED FOR ZAHARA: 'DEPENDENT MAID']

"Ah, music to my digital ears!" the System laughed. "She’s trapped with you now, Host!"

Rangga pressed the external intercom button. "Sorry, buddy!" his voice boomed cheerfully out into the apocalyptic street. "No pets or heavily armed mercenaries allowed without a security deposit! Plus, she hasn't finished doing the dishes yet!"