RTS System in the Apocalypse-Chapter 133: Sweeping the Industrial District
Hans gazed at the black jagged piece of meteorite lying at the bottom of the huge pit.
The artillery strikes are too powerful; he measured the radius. This weapon shouldn't be used carelessly in battle.
It was a decisive weapon that could shift the tide of the battle—for better or for worse. Current results were ideal to his plans, and he hoped that future battles would be the same.
"Matilda, do you feel the psychic energy?" he asked.
"The aura is faint, Commander," Matilda replied.
"It's strange indeed," Hans furrowed. "Do you think I bombed it too hard?"
"A plausible effect, Commander."
"Hmm," Hans shrugged. Guessing won't lead him anywhere.
"Down to the pit we go then."
His boots skidded over the loose soil; he looked around the hole in curiosity.
Rebars stuck out like a mess, bent in shapes and covered in rust. Broken pipes hissed softly as water trickled slowly to the bottom.
The deeper Hans descended, the colder the air became. His bluish eyes glowed in the dark, locking his sight on the enlarging meteorite shard.
It's huge, he exhaled coolly. He wondered what dismantled those walls—his artillery, or this meteorite's impact?
The shard rested on top of hardened flesh at the center of the deepened crater.
Up close, it looked like an altar of some sort: the shard as the artifact and the flesh as its platform.
Dead tendrils still clung to its edges, their shriveled flesh burned black by the bombardment.
Hans crouched beside it.
The ground around the shard was strangely smooth, as if something had been feeding there for a long time.
"Do you feel it, Matilda?" Hans glanced back.
"The psychic energy, Commander?"
Hans nodded. Matilda closed her eyes, loosening the restrictions placed upon her body.
The cold draft breezed by her skin; her boots stepping over the damp surface.
And in front of her, a small pink aura resonated from the shard—one so weak that she thought it was non-existent.
"There is, Commander, but it is faint."
"No voices? Nothing influencing your mind?" Hans pressed.
Matilda shook her head in response.
"Is that so?" he shifted to the meteorite shard and reached out with his left hand. At the touch of his finger, the shard blipped slightly.
He felt the weightless object for a short moment before the system prompted him.
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[ Do you want to store this meteorite shard in the containment subspace? ]
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Store, he affirmed.
Green light surrounded the meteorite shard, flickering for seconds before it disintegrated into countless digital pixels.
Hans stood up and dusted his pants. He scanned the area one more time.
"Looks good from here," he said. "Let's get back up."
As for the hive's carcass, Hans had no need for it. Tyrus perhaps, but this scientist was too far away.
By the time Hans's plans became fruition, the flesh would have decayed; Tyrus's research value would have then plummeted to the bottom.
Hans put it at the back of his mind. They returned to the surface faster than they have descended.
He reached to his comms.
"All units, this is Golden Eagle. Ground Zero has been cleared. Hive body has been neutralized. Proceed with your sector and sweep everything."
Across the district, squads began moving again.
Warehouse doors were kicked open one after another as infantry teams swept through the dark buildings.
Hans's Radar synchronized with their vision, allowing squads to anticipate the presence of enemies in an area.
Vanguard MBTs guarded the main roads while snipers reclaimed their vision atop refinery towers.
Within minutes, radio reports began arriving.
"Sector Alpha clear. Refinery structures have no sign of infected."
"Sector Bravo cleared. Storage tanks secured."
"Charlie warehouses—no hostiles."
With the last sectors cleared, the next phase began. Hans called for a short briefing with the Engineers and available infantry squads.
They gathered under the roof of a warehouse, sunlight barely shining above them.
Hans stared blankly at the system panel in front of him, cursing his bad luck.
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[ Strategic Facilities Detected ]
[ 2x Industrial Refinery Complex ]
[ 2x Fuel Storage Facility ]
[ 2x Industrial Storage Yard ]
[ 1x Machinery Workshop ]
[ 1x Chemical Processing Plant ]
[ Recommended to clear areas of enemy presence and capture with an Engineer to receive bonuses. ]
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[ Warning: Hive presence detected. Strategic Facility capture locked. Please clear the area of hive influence. ]
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The Industrial Refinery Complex should generate money, Hans's scrolled through the info. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖
Machinery Workshop? He paused. Will my armor finally regenerate HP on their own?
The rest of the prompts didn't make sense to him—Fuel Storage Facility, Industrial Storage Yard, and Chemical Processing Plant.
The game didn't have those; he scratched his head. Perhaps it's a new one? This system is detaching farther from the game I know. What's going on?
Amidst his confusion, he closed the panel and looked back to his troops.
Out of thirty infantry squads, only ten of them were available—now all gathered here with him.
With an Engineer for each, Hans knew that the time for recapture has come.
He cleared his throat and spoke.
"Your objective is to clear the refinery structures of hive flesh and other things. Coordinate with the Engineer assigned to your team."
He paused.
"I want it to be quick, but meticulous. Do not compromise the structure's integrity. Too much destruction, and that Strategic Facility will become scrap. Am I understood?"
"Yes, Commander!" The ten squads answered at once.
"Good. Squad leaders, pick a place," Hans pinged through his Radar map. "Squad callsign will be Sweep."
The squad leaders received the information. With a simple rock-paper-scissors competition, their designations were then soon determined.
The squads quickly dispersed from the warehouse.
Engineers moved with them, toolkits slung over their shoulders while the infantry secured the surrounding corridors.
Once more, across the district, another cleanup operation began—this time, to the insides.
At Refinery Complex One, Sweep One and Two stood guard while their assigned Engineers climbed at the steel scaffolding.
Hive tendrils clung stubbornly to the pipelines like rotting vines.
"Burn it off," the squad leader ordered.
A short burst of flame waved over the blackened flesh, peeling it away from the metal beneath.
While the rest of the squads proceeded smoothly with their tasks—
At the Chemical Processing Plant, a worse situation enveloped Sweep Ten.







