Chapter 83: Kshadi
In the Caribbean base, a satellite screen flickered with images of devastation. The satellite, launched by the Asan Kingdom two decades ago, was now the sole reconnaissance tool of the base. Although it was outdated compared to Zack's LSI satellite—lacking clarity and zoom capabilities—it was still a remarkable feat to retain control of such technology after the apocalypse. While it couldn't capture fine details like LSI, it provided just enough resolution to observe events on the ground.
Kshadi, a bearded man with a weathered face, stared at the satellite feed in shock. "What kind of weapons are these?" he muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Since when did they have such advanced technology?"
Kshadi was one of the three leaders of the Caribbean base. His companions were no less interesting. Navas Puticha, a brash man, shared his leadership role. Clint, the infamous sharpshooter spotted at the Imperial Capital base, was Navas' half-brother. The third leader, Jock Forsman, hailed from the East and was a former soldier.
Unlike Kshadi and Navas, who shared cultural roots, Jock's authority stemmed from his military background. Before the apocalypse, he was just a lowly sergeant in a foreign land, resentful of his posting. But when the world fell apart, Jock transformed into a local warlord, ruling with impunity. At Caribbean base, his voice carried more weight than the others. He wielded his power cruelly, exploiting people and resources with no regard for humanity. Many women had fallen victim to his predations, only to be replaced by younger ones, sent by those desperate to curry favor.
Jock leaned back in his chair, staring at the satellite image with a glint of greed. The screen displayed a black dot—a Avalon—hovering over a scorched battlefield. "Don't worry," he said with a sly grin. "There's no major survivor base near NYC City. Whatever weapon that aircraft belongs to will be ours soon enough."
Kshadi hesitated, frowning. "Are you sure about this? We can't underestimate them."
"You fool," Navas sneered, his disdain for Kshadi evident. "These survivors are cowards. A little pressure, and they'll hand over everything willingly."
"And if they don't?" Kshadi asked, still uncertain.
Jock interrupted with a sharp laugh. "Then we'll make them regret it. We've got dozens of fighter jets and hundreds of ballistic missiles. We'll wipe them off the map."
Kshadi's expression wavered, but Jock's confidence was infectious. Navas chimed in again, adding fuel to the fire. "Their Imperial Capital base already has our spies embedded. Those five thousand girls sent there are just a distraction. The real plan is to use Kane to destabilize the base and, eventually, the entire region."
Kshadi finally nodded, his reluctance fading. Human ambition had only grown more unrestrained in the chaos of the apocalypse, morality eroded by desperation and greed. "Alright," he said. "Let's contact the base that owns this aircraft. Demand they hand it over. If they refuse, remind them what we're capable of."
Jock's grin widened as he barked orders. "Make it clear: resistance means annihilation."