Sweet Apocalypse System

Chapter 3

Click. Click.

The sound of the firing pin hitting empty air was the most terrifying sound in the world to Irene.

In front of her, five zombies in tattered building security uniforms pressed forward. They were slow, but their numbers seemed endless. Behind them, a dozen more were climbing up from the emergency stairwell whose door had been blown open.

"Damn it..." Irene hissed, her breath ragged. Sweat soaked the tight black tank top she wore, highlighting her trained shoulder muscles.

She hurled the now-useless Glock 19 pistol at the face of the nearest zombie.

*Thunk!*

The pistol bounced off the zombie's forehead, doing nothing but making the undead creature angrier.

"Alright. We play rough," Irene growled. She drew the tactical *karambit* knife from the sheath on her hip. Its sharply curved blade glinted under the overcast afternoon sun.

Irene took a step back. The heel of her combat boot touched the edge of the rooftop. Behind her was a four-story drop. In front of her, walking death.

"Come on, you bastards! I'll turn you into shish kebabs!" Irene challenged. Her eyes were sharp, devoid of fear, holding only the cold calculation of a former special forces operative who knew her end was near.

The lead zombie lunged. Irene dodged sideways, slashing the *karambit* across its neck. The zombie's head rolled away. But two other zombies immediately slammed into her. Irene kicked one zombie's knee until it snapped, but the third zombie managed to grip her bulletproof vest.

"Get off!" Irene elbowed the zombie in the face.

Its grip loosened, but Irene's balance was thrown off. She stumbled backward. Her foot slipped on the edge of the roof.

*I'm going to die a stupid death,* she thought resignedly.

Just then, a high-pitched scream echoed from the sky.

"COMING THROUGH! PACKAGE OF LOVE AND CANDY ARRIVING!"

Irene looked up. Above, a human figure was flying across the narrow alley from the convenience store building next door. His pose was absurd—arms spread wide like a flying squirrel, a dirty white lab coat flapping, and his face conveying total panic.

"What the hell is that?" Irene gaped.

The figure's landing was far from heroic.

Boby landed with both feet slamming into the concrete rooftop. Theoretically, with the remnants of his *One Punch Dad* strength, he should have been able to land smoothly like a Marvel superhero. But fate had other plans.

Boby's shoe stepped on a rotten banana peel—leftover trash from the building's former occupants—which lay sweetly right at his landing spot.

*Screeeech!*

"OH, SHIIIT!"

Boby's feet slipped forward. His body slid rapidly like an amateur ice skater, threading between the legs of the zombies surrounding Irene, and ended by slamming into the retaining wall right next to Irene's feet.

*CRASH!*

Silence.

The zombies paused for a moment, confused by the unidentified flying object that had just performed a human bowling maneuver.

Boby groaned softly, clutching his hip. "System... what's my landing score?"

[Score: 2/10. Style: 10/10 for comedy. Tailbone: Slightly fractured, negligible effect.]

Boby looked up. The first thing he saw was the long barrel of slender legs clad in military cargo pants, then moving up to a slim waist with a utility belt, and then further up...

['Lothario Mode' Automatically Activated. Detecting Valuable Assets: Tactical Twin Peaks. Status: Firm and Dangerous.]

"Shut up, you perverted System," Boby whispered.

He looked at Irene's face. The woman was staring at him with a mixture of disgust and amazement. The *karambit* knife was still gripped tightly in her hand, now pointed at Boby's throat.

"Who are you?!" Irene snapped. Her voice was firm, full of authority. "Are you bitten? Answer me or I'll cut your throat!"

Boby raised both hands in surrender, trying to stand up with a cool demeanor even though his legs were shaking.

"Relax, tough lady. I'm not their lunch special. I'm... uh... a doctor. Doctor Boby. I saw a pretty girl about to get jumped, so I dropped by."

"Dropped by? You flew from the next building just to fall in the trash?" Irene asked skeptically.

"That's called a *Tactical Landing*," Boby countered.

*WOOF!*

Suddenly, Dogy landed smoothly beside them. The dog leaped gracefully, landing silently on all fours, then immediately snarled at the zombies. His golden fur fluttered in the wind. Very gallant.

Irene looked at Dogy, then back at Boby. "Your dog landed smarter than you did."

"He's just a show-off," Boby grumbled.

The moment of introduction was ruined by a zombie roar. They realized fresh meat had arrived. The horde moved in unison.

"Watch out!" Irene shoved Boby aside and slashed the arm of a zombie that was reaching for Boby's hair.

"Okay, okay! Ceasefire first! We'll discuss bios later!" Boby shouted.

He picked up a small crowbar he had brought. His eyes scanned the surroundings. There were about fifteen zombies on this roof.

[Remaining Power Duration: 5 Seconds.]

[Warning: Glucose Battery Dying. Perform one last attack before Jelly Mode activates!]

"Five seconds?! Are you kidding me?!" Boby shrieked.

"Who are you talking to, psycho?!" Irene kicked a zombie in the chest, sending it stumbling back into its friend.

Boby didn't answer. He saw one large zombie—perhaps a former boss in this building—running toward Irene from her blind spot.

"Ma'am! Three o'clock!"

Boby leaped. In the last remaining second of his strength, he swung the crowbar with all his might toward the boss zombie's head.

*CRACK!*

The crowbar lodged deep into the zombie's skull. The sound was crisp, like splitting a coconut. The zombie collapsed instantly.

"Hah... hah..." Boby stood proudly over the corpse. He turned to Irene, sweeping back his hair (which was actually receding at the front). "How was that? Not bad for a clown, huh?"

Irene was silent for a moment. She had to admit, the blow was brutal and effective. "Not bad. But your crowbar is stuck."

Boby tried to pull the crowbar out. "Ahem. Hold on. It's a little tight."

[Time Expired. Mode: ONE PUNCH DAD deactivated.]

[Initiating calorie debt collection... Effect: Temporary Paralysis (Total Exhaustion).]

Suddenly, as if a switch had been flipped, all the energy in Boby's body vanished. His knees turned to jelly. His spine felt like it had been yanked out.

"Huh?"

Boby's eyes rolled back. His body collapsed forward, falling right onto Irene's chest.

"HEY! WAKE UP!" Irene shook Boby's body. "What's wrong with you?! Heart attack?!"

Boby opened his hazy eyes, a little drool dripping onto Irene's vest. "Sugar... gone... Battery... low..."

"My God, are you diabetic or something?!" Irene snorted in annoyance. She looked around. There were still ten more zombies approaching. The rooftop door was jammed by a pile of corpses, but it wouldn't hold for long.

Irene stared at Boby, who was now helpless as a wet sack of rice. Her military logic screamed: *Leave him. He's dead weight.*

But then she looked at Dogy. The dog wasn't running. Dogy stood in front of them, barking savagely, ready to die protecting his ridiculous owner. The dog's eyes looked at Irene, as if pleading: *'Help my idiot boss, Miss.'*

"Damn it. I hate cute dogs," Irene cursed.

With surprising strength, Irene lifted Boby's body. Not supporting him, but hoisting him onto her shoulder (Fireman Carry). Boby's head dangled over Irene's back, staring at Dogy's rear end as the dog ran behind them.

"Hold on tight, Clown! If you puke on my shirt, I'll use you as zombie bait!" Irene threatened.

"Yes... Commander..." Boby mumbled, his eyes half-closed. "You smell... like gunpowder mixed with jasmine perfume..."

"Shut up!"

Irene ran toward the emergency stairwell door. She kicked the door open. Dogy went in first, securing the area.

"Clear!" Irene shouted (to herself and the dog).

They descended the stairs quickly. Irene was carrying a 150-pound adult male while running down concrete stairs, yet her breathing remained steady. Her physique was truly monstrous.

On the third floor, the hallway was filled with smoke and small fires. The building's sprinkler system was on, soaking them.

"Put me down... I can walk..." Boby tried to struggle, but he had zero strength.

"You shut up or I'll throw you out the window!" Irene snapped.

They reached the Mezzanine level between the lobby and the second floor. But Irene stopped short.

Below, in the main lobby, hundreds of zombies were clustered. The front glass doors were completely shattered. The main exit was blocked.

"Dead end," Irene hissed. She slowly backed up, returning to the dark corridor on the second floor.

She set Boby down in a narrow janitor's closet, then locked the door.

Boby slumped against the wall, panting heavily even though he had only been carried. His face was pale.

"Okay, Crazy Doctor," Irene crouched in front of Boby, pointing her knife at him again. The woman's breath hit Boby's face. "Now explain. Why were you as strong as the Hulk a minute ago, and now you're limp as jelly? Are you on steroids? Drugs? Or are you a failed military experiment?"

Boby smiled weakly. He pointed to his coat pocket. "Got... any more candy? I'll explain... after I get some sugar."

Irene roughly reached into her tactical pocket. She pulled out a military-issue protein bar that tasted like compressed sawdust.

"Eat," Irene ordered, tearing open the wrapper and shoving it into Boby's mouth. "Don't you dare choke."

Boby chewed the protein bar with difficulty. It was bland, but the System in his head cheered.

[Detecting Complex Carbohydrates. Initiating stamina recovery... 5%... 10%...]

Color began to return to Boby's face.

"Thanks..." Boby said sincerely, then grinned. "I never thought I'd be carried by a girl. Usually, I'm the one carrying... the burden of life."

Irene didn't laugh. She sat on the floor, wiping sweat from her neck. Her gaze was fixed sharply on the door. Outside, the sound of shuffling footsteps began to approach.

"Don't get comfortable," Irene said coldly. "We're trapped. I'm out of bullets. My knife is getting dull. And all you have is a trash mouth and a dog."

Dogy, who was licking his paws in the corner, looked up, offended.

"Relax, Sweetheart," Boby tried to stand up, holding onto a mop handle. His brain started working again as his blood sugar rose. He looked at the contents of the janitor's closet: floor cleaner (Amutex), bleach (chlorine), and several bottles of 70% alcohol.

Boby's eyes gleamed slyly.

[Feature 'Mad Scientist' Detected. Chemicals available.]

"I might not have muscles right now," Boby said, grabbing the bleach and floor cleaner bottles. "But I have an A-minus degree in Chemistry."

Irene frowned. "What are you going to do? Mop the floor so the zombies slip?"

"More fun than that," Boby smirked, mixing the liquids into the bucket with haphazard but confident measurements. "We're going to throw a deadly *foam party*. Get ready to cover your nose, Miss. The smell is going to be worse than Dogy's socks."