The Cube stared at the "mysterious weapon" in stunned silence…
*By the gods of battleships! That's practically artillery!* Its processors nearly overheated. No wonder its database hadn't recognized the gunshot—this relic predated modern firearms! The farmer's weapon was a homemade blunderbuss, a relic from the days of hunting wild boars in the mountains. A thick wooden stock, a barrel longer than the old man's arm, and enough gunpowder packed inside to level a small shed.
"Stupid chicken! Lay eggs or become stew!" The farmer grumbled, retreating indoors. The Cube transformed into its off-road mode and sped away. *Imagine the humiliation—an interstellar warship taken down by hillbilly black powder!*
——
Back on the highway, the Cube raced past autumn leaves swirling in its wake. Golden sunlight dappled the asphalt—a postcard scene shattered by the whine of its electric motor.
Two drunk twentysomethings perched on a roadside wall, tossing beer cans at zombie corpses. "Hear that?" One paused, a half-eaten spicy strip dangling from his lips. "Sounds like… a toy?"
His buddy squinted. "Who cares? Pass the—"
*VROOM!*
A blue streak zoomed into view. The first man—wearing inexplicable capris in autumn—leapt into the road. "Catch the RC car! Let's strip it for parts!"
The Cube swerved left. Capris Guy mirrored it, arms spread. "C'mere, little—"
*CLANG!*
In mid-leap, the Cube's wheels retracted. Blades snapped out from its undercarriage. Time slowed as it sailed between the man's legs, precision-trimming his crotch hair.
"MY PANTS!" Capris Guy wailed, clutching his newly ventilated jeans.
His friend hurled a brick. The Cube dodged, screeching sparks as the projectile shattered asphalt. "Primitive apes! I should've sterilized you both!" it transmitted via radio interference, leaving the duo gaping at their crotches and cracked pavement.
——
The factory loomed ahead—a squat building overrun by undead workers. Rotting foremen shuffled alongside line employees, their matching decay a grim parody of workplace equality. The Cube transformed into a spider-like recon mode, scaling the perimeter wall.
Inside the motor pool sat its target: a yellow bulldozer, keys dangling in the ignition. "Jackpot."
A moan echoed. The Cube turned to face a zombie in a hardhat and tie—the manager, still clutching a clipboard.
"Performance review time," the Cube deadpanned, deploying a welding torch from its wrist. "Spoiler: You're fired."
Flames lit the yard as it cleared a path to the bulldozer. Tomorrow, Zhang Xiaowen would return to claim this earthmoving beast. But first—a quick detour to the factory's server room.
"Let's see… employee records, supply manifests… ah, *blueprints.*" The Cube absorbed the data greedily. "Primitive machining tools, but adaptable. With modifications—"
*CRASH!*
A zombie engineer stumbled through the door, jaw unhinged. The Cube sighed. "Always the IT department…"
By dusk, the factory burned—a beacon visible from the golf resort. Zhang Xiaowen watched the distant glow through binoculars. "What's that lunatic up to now?"
Dahei barked once—approval. The Cube's transmission crackled through Zhang's visor: *Acquired heavy construction vehicle. Also, eliminated HR. You're welcome.*
She facepalmed. Somewhere in the ashes, a zombie manager's clipboard melted into slag. The apocalypse's first corporate purge was complete.