Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse

General de Vera stared at the pouch on the table. His fingers didn't move toward it, not yet. Instead, he leaned back slightly and looked up at Villamor.

"And if we say no?" he asked, voice steady.

Villamor didn't hesitate. "Then we're on our own. With no drone coverage. No air support. No med evac. No tech infrastructure. We'll keep patrolling with standard issue rifles and praying the next variant doesn't tear through the walls."

De Vera looked down at the floor for a long moment, then let out a slow breath through his nose.

"They want us under their chain of command," he muttered.

"Everything we've built here… handed over."

"No," Villamor replied. "Integrated. Not erased. They're not after territory, sir. They're after structure. Control. And honestly? That's not a bad thing anymore."

De Vera raised his eyes again. "You believe that?"

"I do," Villamor said quietly. "Because I saw what they can do. Because I watched a gunship eliminate an entire horde in less than five minutes. Because I watched our own dead stand up and almost kill everyone in their med wing—and they contained it. Fast."

De Vera was quiet again. He finally reached out and opened the pouch, flipping through the printed reports and statements, the timeline.

He scanned the pages in silence, flipping past the transcript of Villamor's sit-down with Thomas.

Halfway through the stack, he stopped and rubbed his eyes.

"This isn't just about logistics anymore," he said. "This is about survival."

"Exactly," Villamor replied. "And the way I see it, we don't have the luxury of pride anymore."

De Vera gave a small, humorless smile at that. "Pride," he repeated. "That's what this whole command's been running on since Day One."

He dropped the stack of papers back into the pouch and zipped it shut.

He didn't speak for another ten seconds. Then he looked Villamor dead in the eyes.

"Tell Overwatch we accept the terms," he said finally. "They'll have command oversight. We'll follow their protocols. But I want two things on the record."

Villamor raised an eyebrow. "Which are?"

"One—we retain our unit identity. They can lead us, but they don't erase us."

"Understood. And the second?"

De Vera leaned forward. "If they screw us… we walk."

Villamor nodded. "I'll relay it exactly as you said."

De Vera stood up and offered a hand.

"Then let's do this smart. Not proud."

Villamor shook it firmly.

"Yes, sir. And thank you for making that decision."

Three days later, the JLTV rumbled back into the refinery yard under gray skies. The weather had shifted—cooler, with a breeze that carried the scent of oil and dust. The southern gate opened slowly, flanked by Shadows on watch, their rifles angled low but eyes sharp.

Captain Enrique Villamor stepped out of the JLTV's passenger side, same boots, same gear—just cleaner, more upright. He carried a simple canvas satchel under one arm.

Phillip was already waiting for him just outside the logistics tent.

"Welcome back," he said, offering a nod.

Villamor returned it. "Was starting to miss the smell of fuel and metal."

"You bring an answer?"

"I brought a commitment," Villamor replied, patting the pouch. "Signed. Stamped. And backed by the full authority of General de Vera."

Phillip gave a short breath through his nose, not quite a smile, but close. "Then let's get you inside."

They crossed the yard without ceremony. The facility buzzed with activity—refinery personnel running checks, Shadows loading gear into trucks, a quadrotor drone being inspected by two Overwatch technicians the gates.

Inside the command building, the lights were already on. A simple table had been placed in the center of the main briefing room, two chairs on either side. There was a printed agreement, several pages thick, neatly stacked with two pens lying beside it.

Thomas Estaris stood near the end of the table, dressed in his usual black field jacket, sleeves rolled to his elbows, radio clipped to his shoulder. He turned as Villamor entered.

"Captain," he said and continued.

"Good to see you made it back."

Villamor set the pouch down beside the agreement. "General de Vera read everything. We accept your terms. With two provisions."

Thomas nodded slowly. "Let me guess. Unit identity and walkaway clause?"

"You read the man well."

"I figured as much," Thomas said. "They're both reasonable. I've already added them as appendices."

He gestured to the seat across from his.

Villamor sat down, exhaled once, and picked up the pen.

"Before I sign this," he said, "I want to say something."

Thomas waited.

"You saved my team. You stabilized this zone. But what really changed our minds wasn't the gunship or the drone coverage. It was the protocols. The way you handled your own dead. You didn't hesitate. You acted like it wasn't just war—it was something worse. And that kind of clarity? It's what we need."

Thomas said nothing for a second. Then he replied simply, "Clarity's the only thing keeping us alive."

Villamor nodded.

And then he signed.

Thomas followed, adding his own signature beneath the Overwatch seal.

There was no applause, no flash of cameras. Just the quiet shuffle of paper and the sound of two pens clicking shut.

"From this point forward," Thomas said, "your camp will operate as Overwatch Substation Echo. You'll receive mission packets daily. Recon data every eight hours. Resupply priority in 72-hour cycles. And any confirmed infected casualties will be reported to my command immediately for body disposal authorization."

Villamor straightened his shoulders. "Understood."

"I'm assigning Phillip as your liaison," Thomas added. "He'll help coordinate the integration."

Villamor glanced at Phillip, who gave a silent nod.

"I've worked with worse," Villamor said.

"You'll work well together," Thomas replied. "You're both cut from the same cloth—practical, not sentimental."

Villamor stood, offering his hand.

Thomas took it.

It was a firm, deliberate shake between two men who understood the stakes.

As Villamor turned to leave, Thomas called out one last thing.

"Captain."

He looked back.

"Welcome to Overwatch."