Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 238: I Got a Girl Guys

Chapter: January 15, 2026 — 8:45 AM

MOA Complex — Command Center, Operations Briefing Room

The morning sun filtered through the reinforced glass panels of the MOA Complex, casting a golden hue over the bustling Command Center. The usual hum of activity filled the air—technicians monitoring surveillance feeds, officers reviewing tactical reports, and the soft murmur of conversations about supply lines and patrol schedules.

Thomas Estaris, Commander of Overwatch, entered the Operations Briefing Room with a purposeful stride. His presence commanded attention, and conversations paused as eyes turned toward him. Following closely were Marcus and Phillip.

"Morning, gentlemen," Thomas greeted, his voice steady.

"Morning, Commander," Marcus replied, nodding.

"Sir," Phillip acknowledged.

Thomas took his seat at the head of the conference table, and the others followed suit. A large digital display illuminated the room, showcasing maps of the Philippine archipelago, marked with various indicators representing Overwatch's operations.

Before diving into the day's agenda, Thomas leaned back slightly, a subtle smile playing on his lips.

"Before we proceed, I have an announcement," he began, his tone lighter than usual.

Marcus and Phillip exchanged curious glances.

"I've started a relationship," Thomas stated, his eyes meeting theirs.

A moment of silence ensued, followed by Marcus's raised eyebrows and Phillip's surprised expression.

"With Rebecca Langley," Thomas added, referring to the Director of Civilian Affairs.

Marcus was the first to break the momentary quiet that followed Thomas's announcement. He leaned back in his chair with a mock-serious expression.

"Well, damn," he said, rubbing his chin. "I thought you were married to the war, Commander."

"Turns out," Thomas said, lifting an eyebrow, "I can multitask."

Phillip, who rarely commented outside mission reports, actually gave a short laugh. "That's one way to breach the no-fraternization protocol. Well there was none."

"Oh please," Marcus added, snorting. "It's not fraternization if you're both running the entire damn post-apocalyptic archipelago."

Thomas shrugged. "Fair enough."

Marcus leaned forward again, his eyes glinting. "So what's she see in you? Is it the cold authoritarian glare, which you don't have, or you're just being cool?"

Thomas chuckled. "Maybe it's the fact I didn't treat her like a subordinate."

Phillip opened a can of Overwatch-issued energy drink and took a sip. "Or maybe it's the fact that you stopped getting shot at long enough for someone to notice you had a face."

"Now that's cold," Marcus said, grinning as he elbowed Phillip lightly.

Thomas shook his head, smiling as he reached for the small fridge tucked into the corner of the room. With a metallic clunk, he opened it and pulled out three cold bottles of beer—the kind salvaged from a shipment dated sometime before society collapsed.

"No agenda for the next thirty," he said, placing a bottle in front of each of them. "We're going to celebrate like civilians."

Phillip raised a brow. "You're breaking out the stash?"

"I figured I'd either drink it alone or share it with you guys. Besides, we have a lot of stocks."

"Damn," Marcus said, twisting his cap off. "If I'd known confessing to a girlfriend would get me beer, I'd have faked it one week ago. But I don't have a girlfriend, not right now."

"Cheers to that," Thomas said, and they clinked bottles. "You will have one soon."

A long, comfortable silence fell over them as they took their first sips. The beer was just cold enough, just bitter enough to feel like a proper indulgence. For a moment, none of them were thinking about Bloom Nests, sonar buoys, or civilian rationing protocols.

"Wasn't expecting this when I woke up," Phillip said after a moment. "Commander cracking open a cold one in the middle of a war."

"Not just any war," Marcus added. "The most batshit insane war in history."

Thomas took another sip. "Which is exactly why it matters. We forget what we're fighting for, we forget what it means to live."

Marcus pointed his bottle at him. "That sounded like it belonged on a bronze plaque."

"Maybe it will," Thomas said with a smirk. "Right under the MOA statue of liberty we'll build someday."

"You gonna put your face on it?" Marcus asked.

"Hell no," Thomas replied. "Put Rebecca's. She's the one keeping this place sane. Her work as a civilian director proved that she is essential on people's sanity."

Phillip nodded. "She has been getting good feedback from the civilians."

Marcus leaned back again, tipping his chair just enough to balance dangerously. "You know what I think?"

"No," Thomas and Phillip replied in unison.

"I think it's about time someone around here had something good going for them. We've lost so many damn people. Half of us are running on caffeine and survivor's guilt. But you—" Marcus gestured with his bottle. "You went and reminded everyone we're still human."

Thomas gave a half smile. "That wasn't the plan."

"Doesn't need to be," Marcus said. "People are watching, Commander. They see you smiling for once, holding hands with someone. Gives them hope. Makes them think they can smile too."

"I didn't do it for them," Thomas said honestly. "I did it because I didn't want to die alone."

Marcus's smile faded into something gentler. "That's the most human reason of all."

They sat in silence again, each lost in his own thoughts. The hum of the overhead displays and the quiet clicking of background staff filled in the gaps.

Then Phillip cleared his throat. "So... does this mean you're gonna start dressing better?"

Marcus nearly choked on his drink. "Oh my God—thank you."

Thomas groaned. "What's wrong with the way I dress?"

"You wear the same jacket every day," Marcus said. "Same black shirt, same boots. I swear I've seen that exact outfit in five different drone ops clips."

"Because it works," Thomas said dryly.

"Rebecca's gonna make you change," Phillip said matter-of-factly. "Give it a month. You'll be wearing civilian shirts with buttons. You can't be looking like a soldier all the time."

"I'm not wearing linen," Thomas declared.

"You will," Marcus said. "One date in a plaza garden and next thing we know, you're shopping for matching mugs."

Thomas squinted at him. "I liked you better when you didn't talk during meetings."

Marcus raised his bottle. "Cheers to character development."

Phillip, quiet as always, raised his in agreement.

"Seriously though," Marcus said. "What was it? When did you know she was... you know, the one?"

Thomas exhaled through his nose. He looked down at his half-finished drink, then toward the large screen showing a satellite image of the Luzon coastline.

"I think it was the second time we sat in silence," he said finally.

Marcus blinked. "Come again?"

"Silence," Thomas repeated. "Most people try to fill it. With jokes, small talk, anything. But her? She sat beside me, said nothing, and I didn't feel like I had to either. That was the first time I didn't feel like I was performing. I was just... me."

Phillip nodded slowly. "That makes sense."

Marcus raised his eyebrows. "Damn. That's kind of poetic. I thought it was her legs."

Thomas threw a pen at him.

Marcus dodged it with a grin. "Hey, I'm just saying—legs get you in the door, but silence keeps you there. You found both. Good on you."

They drank more, the tension slowly draining from their shoulders like poison being drawn from a wound.

"I haven't had this much peace in months," Thomas muttered.

"You earned it," Marcus said. "We all have."

They sat there for a while longer, finishing their beers. The noise of the Command Center continued, but it stayed outside the glass doors. For once, Thomas wasn't looking at screens. He wasn't flipping through field reports or calculating resource distribution ratios.

He was just drinking a beer with his two most trusted men. Laughing. Talking. Living.

Phillip eventually stood. "I'll get us a second round. I think we've got some German imports in the back. Thank the mall for it as they have stocks before the apocalypse."

"You're a hero," Marcus said.

As Phillip left, Marcus leaned closer to Thomas.

"For what it's worth," he said, lowering his voice, "I'm happy for you. Genuinely."

Thomas looked at him, the edge of his mouth twitching. "Thanks."

"You know," Marcus added, "we might not get a third date if the Bloom in Laguna keeps expanding."

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "You read that report already?"

Marcus scoffed. "I read everything. I just chose not to bring it up because for once, I wanted to let you have your moment."

Thomas gave a small nod. "Appreciated."

"But seriously," Marcus added. "Take care of her. She's a good one."

"I know," Thomas said softly.

Phillip returned moments later with three more bottles—this time with imported labels and a faint hiss of freshness when opened.

They clinked again.

"To survival," Phillip said.

"To second chances," Marcus added.

Thomas raised his bottle last. "To rebuilding. Not just the world... but ourselves."

And with that, they drank, the morning sun warming the edges of the command glass as if blessing the moment.