Chapter 74: You Fucked Up

"What do you think you are doing?"

"Ahh..." Miguel couldn’t find his voice as he was stunned at the sudden development. "The zombies....where are they?"

"Oh, them? We already took care of it," Adrian said as he stared at him with disgust. "To think that you’d take advantage of this situation to go after defenseless and innocent girls is beyond me. You are the most despicable human being that I have encountered, more despicable than the zombies out there."

"Wait—wait! I can explain!" Miguel said, fumbling as he pulled his pants up, backing away from Aubrey like distance alone could fix what just happened.

Adrian didn’t move.

His eyes stayed locked on him.

"Explain," Adrian said.

Miguel swallowed.

"They—they forced me into this," he said quickly, pointing at the girls. "They were— they were trying to accuse me earlier, I just— I lost my temper—"

"What the fuck? That’s the only explanation you could come up with?" Chandrika said, her voice shaking but sharp enough to cut through him.

She pulled Aubrey with her, moving behind Adrian without hesitation.

Glaiza followed close, almost glued to Aubrey’s side, her eyes still fixed on Miguel like she couldn’t believe he was real.

Adrian didn’t turn.

But he felt them move.

Felt the shift.

Miguel saw it too.

Saw where they positioned themselves.

Behind armed men.

Behind someone who wasn’t backing down.

His expression flickered.

"You’re twisting it," Miguel said, trying to recover, his voice still unsteady. "They’re just— they’re emotional. You know how people get in situations like this—"

"Stop talking," Adrian said.

Miguel froze again.

The soldiers behind Adrian adjusted their stance slightly, rifles angled down but ready, blocking any movement forward.

Chandrika stayed just behind Adrian’s shoulder.

Not hiding.

But not exposed either.

Aubrey clutched onto her arm, still shaking, trying to steady her breathing.

Glaiza stayed close, her hand gripping Aubrey’s sleeve, refusing to let go.

Adrian took one step forward.

Miguel instinctively stepped back.

"You don’t get to lie your way out of this," Adrian said, his tone low but firm. "Not here."

"Sir, permission to punch the shit out of him," one of the soldiers asked.

"Permission granted," Adrian coldly granted and then added. "Also, take him to the holding cell, and strip him of his clothes. He is proud to rape a defenseless woman, then let us show it to the others."

"Thank you sir," the soldier crackled his fist, and others stepped forward to.

And with that, Miguel was now cornered.

The situation flipped.

Completely.

He opened his mouth—

"Wait—!"

The first punch cut him off.

It landed hard across his face, snapping his head to the side as his body twisted with the impact. He barely had time to react before the second one came in—this time to the gut.

The air left his lungs instantly.

A sharp, broken sound escaped him as he folded forward.

The soldiers didn’t rush it.

They didn’t lose control.

They worked him.

One grabbed him by the collar and forced him upright just enough—

Another fist drove straight into his ribs.

Once.

Twice.

Miguel gasped, his legs buckling as they held him in place.

"You like taking advantage of people?" one of the soldiers muttered.

Another hit came.

This time across the jaw again.

Miguel’s head snapped back, blood spraying from his mouth as his body sagged in their grip.

He tried to speak.

Nothing came out but a choke.

A third soldier stepped in, driving a knee into his midsection.

Miguel folded completely this time, his body collapsing inward as they let him drop to his knees.

But they didn’t stop.

One of them grabbed his hair and pulled his head back—

Then drove a punch straight into his face.

Miguel’s body slumped forward again, barely conscious now, his arms hanging uselessly as blood dripped from his nose and mouth onto the floor.

"Get him up," one of them said.

They dragged him back upright.

He couldn’t even stand on his own.

His legs shook.

Failed.

So they held him there.

One last hit came—

A clean, direct strike that dropped him fully this time, his body hitting the ground with a dull thud.

Meanwhile, the girls watched Miguel being beaten up by the soldiers and flinched from every punch connected to his body.

"Are you guys okay? Where is the other one?" Adrian asked.

"The other one..." Chandrika muttered. "That man threw her to the zombies."

Adrian’s expression hardened.

"...I see," he said quietly.

He didn’t ask anything else.

Didn’t need to.

Behind him, one of the soldiers glanced at the others, his jaw tightening slightly as he looked down at Miguel’s barely moving body.

"Sir, he’s knocked out. What are we to do with these kinds of people? We can’t just simply let them roam around. They are a danger to our security."

"Should we kill him sir?"

"Well, we can simply throw him out of the base. For sure he won’t survive a day."

Adrian didn’t answer right away.

He looked down at Miguel’s body for a second longer, his expression unreadable, like he was weighing something beyond just the moment.

"He has done this now, he’ll do it again in the future. He thinks only for himself which is a trait you need in an apocalypse but not to this degree. Therefore, we should throw him the moment he regains his consciousness," Adrian finally said. "We are going to exile him."

The soldiers nodded.

"Yes, sir."

They dragged Miguel out of the room and into the corridor, his body limp, leaving faint streaks along the floor as they moved. Somewhere along the way, they stripped him of what remained of his clothing, leaving him exposed, humiliated, and broken.

No dignity left.

No authority.

No power.

Just another man.

They hauled him down the hall, past watching personnel, past silent glances, until they reached the holding area deep within the base.

The cell door opened.

They threw him inside.

Then locked it.

And walked away.