Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse

The Rockies had once stood as nature's final fortress—towering, snow-capped ranges that weathered centuries of storms, civilizations, and wars. Now, they were cursed monuments, pulsing with Bloom corruption. What began as minor infestations in scattered Colorado towns had grown into something far worse: a subterranean lattice of mutated root systems, hidden chambers, and gestating horrors beneath the rock.

Overwatch Command had seen the pattern before.

And Thomas Estaris wasn't going to let it spread east.

Inside the Missouri Arcology's central operations deck, the tension was palpable. Multiple live drone feeds hovered over projection tables. Engineers, analysts, and tacticians gathered around an enormous topographical map of the United States, now overlaid with radiation modeling, Bloom detection grids, and air route restrictions.

A thick red line now slashed across the map—from the Dakotas in the north to New Mexico in the south. Everything west of it had been scorched. Now, the Bloom was burrowing eastward. From Boulder to Colorado Springs. From Cheyenne down to Albuquerque. The Rockies were the last buffer before it hit the Great Plains.

Thomas entered the room with his usual measured stride. Beside him, Angel carried a secure tablet, projecting thermal scans and population overlays. Phillip followed in full armor, while Rebecca stood beside the easternmost terminal.

"Give me the rundown," Thomas ordered.

Angel didn't waste a second.

"Fourteen major Bloom nests identified within the Rocky region. Eight in Colorado alone. We've lost visual confirmation from Fort Collins, Breckenridge, and Telluride. All civilian broadcasts ended three days ago."

"Any survivors?" Rebecca asked.

Angel shook her head. "Nothing substantial. We intercepted three low-frequency signals that might've been distress calls, but they cut off mid-transmission. We think the Bloom's broadcasting its own interference now."

Thomas's jaw clenched. "So it's evolving. Again."

"We're not going to let it burrow any deeper," Phillip said. "We hit them hard. Everything we've got."

Thomas turned to the armament officer. "Inventory."

"Thirty-one thermobaric cruise missiles prepped and loaded across Valkyrie One, Two, and Three," the officer responded. "Payload includes upgraded anti-bunker warheads, with triple-layer ignition timers. Inertial guidance only—same as before. Five Reapers in air for post-strike recon."

"Targets confirmed?" Thomas asked.

Angel nodded. "Mapped and cross-verified. Primary clusters: Denver, Aspen, Boulder, Colorado Springs, Santa Fe, and Casper. Secondary roots in mountain basins and canyon systems."

"Then it ends tonight," Thomas said coldly. "Initiate Operation Black Winter."

Valkyrie One – High Altitude, Over Colorado Airspace

Inside the pitch-dark belly of Valkyrie One, the floor rumbled as the bomber soared over the first line of ridgelines. The Rockies loomed beneath them, now unrecognizable—veins of glowing red spore streaks ran across cliffs like bleeding wounds, and Bloom towers rose like unnatural trees above the frozen pines.

Phillip stood beside the weapons console, eyes locked on the live feed from the undercarriage cam. Revenant, silent as ever, stood behind him like a phantom.

"Missile bay doors open," the pilot called out. "Targets locked."

The screen lit up with designations: DENVER CLUSTER A1, COLORADO SPRINGS ROOT NODE B4, ASPEN HIVE D6.

"Fire," Phillip ordered.

Three missiles detached in sequence, slicing down through the clouds like silent executioners.

Ground Zero: Denver

What was left of Denver had become a grotesque amalgam of steel and flesh. Skyscrapers had been consumed and restructured into vertical Bloom towers, their glass exteriors now coated in chitinous plating. Highways twisted like intestines. Downtown was a maze of biomass canals, pulsing with fluid.

The first missile struck the Civic Center Plaza.

There was no warning. No scream. Just an instantaneous compression—oxygen ripped from the area, followed by a vacuum blast that turned reinforced concrete into powdered dust. The second hit followed milliseconds later, collapsing an entire square mile of Bloom infrastructure. Fires ignited as pressurized fuel lines ruptured under the bloom roots. The third missile struck deep beneath the mountainside—targeting a heat source two kilometers below the surface.

The ground convulsed.

A shockwave thundered outward for 12 kilometers, felt as far as Kansas.

Overwatch Command – Live Feed Room

"Direct hits on all three Denver sites," Angel confirmed. "Bloom nodes collapsed. Radiation fallout tracking east, but well within safe drift models."

"Prep Valkyrie Two," Thomas said. "Send it south. Colorado Springs, Santa Fe, Albuquerque."

"Roger that," the operator responded.

Rebecca approached him. "Denver was a populated metro before the Bloom. Even if they were infected… this isn't easy."

Thomas nodded. "It's not supposed to be. But it's necessary."

Valkyrie Two – En Route to Colorado Springs

As the bomber streaked across the skies, Santa Fe and the southern ridgelines of the Rockies came into view. The terrain was burning already—fires from smaller engagements and natural gas explosions had blackened the canyons. But in the center of Colorado Springs stood the largest Bloom hive structure Overwatch had ever recorded on North American soil: a tower over 300 meters tall, wrapped in crystalline scaffolding and oozing pink light.

Angel's voice echoed in: "Target confirmed: CRIMSON SPIRE."

"Fire," Phillip said again.

This time, the bomber dropped all ten payloads in rapid succession.

Colorado Springs – Crimson Spire

The first missile struck the base of the tower, vaporizing hundreds of tons of biomass instantly. A resonant screech echoed across the range—a psychic backlash from the hive network itself. The second missile detonated mid-air, producing a concussive ring that shattered every infected window and tunnel in a 5-kilometer radius.

The remaining eight hit simultaneously, carpet-bombing the mountainside, cracking plateaus, and incinerating all signs of organic life.

The Crimson Spire crumbled.

The Bloom screamed one last time—then went still.

Command Deck – Missouri Arcology

"All hives in central Colorado are down," Angel reported. "Santa Fe's preliminary scans show no movement. Secondary scan underway."

Thomas exhaled.

"We hold this line," he said. "We cleanse every last canyon."

Reaper Recon Units – Casper and Aspen

While Valkyrie Three circled southward to prepare its final barrage, Reaper drones scouted the remnants of Wyoming's infestation. Casper was already empty. Aspen, however, was still alive—if it could be called that.

The entire valley had turned into a giant birthing field. Giant sacs, bloated with biomass and acidic liquid, clung to pine trees like tumors. Some moved. Others burst. Drones recorded mutated elk, wolves, and even infected mountain climbers with grotesque growths on their limbs.

No hesitation this time.

Reaper One-Six dropped a micro-nuke directly into the center.

The blast erased the valley.

And everything in it.

Valkyrie Three – Final Cleansing Strike

From Grand Junction to Albuquerque, the final strike team swept south along the Rockies' tail. The goal wasn't just city-level annihilation—it was to destroy every gorge, ravine, and peak that held residual Bloom.

Missile after missile.

Plume after plume.

Valleys collapsed. Old mining tunnels vaporized. Even ancient cave systems were reduced to molten slag.

When the dust settled…

The Rockies were no longer mountains.

They were ruins.

Missouri Arcology – Observation Deck

Thomas stood once again at the uppermost observation platform. Wind howled outside. On the horizon, the western sky shimmered—not with sunlight, but with lingering radiation and the chemical ghost of war.

Phillip joined him.

"We did it," he said.

"No," Thomas replied. "We stopped it."

He turned toward the holographic map again—one final cluster blinking near Utah's old border.

"Prep Reaper One-Four. If it moves… we erase it."

Behind them, the war room flickered back to life.

The cost had been staggering—ecosystems destroyed, air poisoned, and landscapes erased—but the line held.

And for now…

The Bloom was dead.