The rain poured down on the city like bullets from the sky. Cold, heavy, relentless. Neon lights and skyscrapers reflected in the puddles of asphalt creating the illusion of a city that was more alive than it actually was.
Erland sat in the corner of the subway platform. His old jacket was wet at the schoulders, a nearly finished cigarette in his hand. Beside him, an empty suitcase and two job rejection letters were neatly folded in his pocket. The world felt small for someone like him-unemployed, alone, and almost forgottem
The train arrived with a sharp metallic screech. The doors opened, and passenger entered as usual. But Erland saw something strange. A young man in a black hoddie hobbled in. His eyes were dull, his skin was pale as wax, and his hands were shaking badly. He sat not far from Erland
Erland watched silently. The man's nose was bleeding. His lips were blue. His breath was short and labored as if something was boiling in his lungs.
Then, suddlenly, the man struggled. His body shook violently. His mouth foamed red. Erland stood up and panicked. People started screaming.
From the man's neck, black veins appeared that spread to his face, then burst small like blood vessels bursting. His blood turned black. His body stiffened… then stilled.
One female passenger screamed, "HELP! He's on drugs!"
But Erland knew this wasn't just an overdoses. He had seen overdoses before. This… this was being destroyed from the inside.
The train makes an emergency stop. The alarm sounds. Transit police arrive, complete with masks and gloves.
"Everyone, move! Don't touch her body!" shouted one of them saw Erland near the victim, they immediately restrained him.
"He saw it in person!"
What? I-I'm just-"
Without having time to explain, Erland was handcuffed and taken out of the station.
Outside, the rain was still pouring down.
But Erland had no idea… that this moment would change his life forever.
A black van hurtles through the night rain. Inside, Erland sat silently, his hands still cuffed, his eyes staring out the frosted window.
The officer who took him didn't say much. Just short, stiff, robot-like instructions. Their uniforms didn't have the usual police insignia- just a black triangle with a red stripe down the center. No one knew which unit they were from.
"At least tell me where I'm being taken," Erland muttered.
There was no answer.
They stopped at an unmarked building in a dead-looking industrial area. The steel doors opened automatically. Erland was led into a sterile room with blinding white lights. The smell of disinfectant was overpowering.
A man in a lab coat examines his body. A scan, a quick blood test, and some sort of thermometer-like device attached to her temple. It took no more than five minutes.
"Negative exposure. Not infected," the man said.
The officer removed Erland's handcuffs.
"Can I leave?" asked Erland.
"I didn't decide," the man replied without emotion. "She's the one who wants to talk to you."
"Who is she?"
But the question could not be answered. A door opened, and in walked a woman of about forty, impeccably dressed in formal black. Her body was erect, her steps steady. Her face was calm-too calm. Her gaze was like an X-ray.
"Erland," she said, her voice calm but weighted. "My name is Vera Lancaster. I'm in charge of all this."
Erland stood stiffly. "I did nothing wrong."
"That's right. You just happened... to be in the wrong place at the very right time."
He approached, then placed the tablet on the table. The screen displayed footage of the body of the man on the train floundering before dying. Enlarged. Slowed down. Black veins. Blackened blood.
"It wasn't an overdose," said Vera. "It was an infection. An artificial organism. A genetically modified virus spread through a new type of drug. And that victim you saw was the 17th case this week.
Erland frowned. "Why are you telling me this?"
Vera gave her a sharp look. "Because you witnessed everything. Because you survived direct exposure. And because I believe you can be useful."
Erland laughed sarcastically. "Me? Unemployed. Former electronics store clerk. I don't even have an active account anymore."
"You are also the son of the late Dr. Isaac Brandt. A biotechnology expert who worked for the Government Genetics Division before the accident in 2007. So don't pretend to be an ordinary person."
Erland was silent. His eyes changed.
Vera smiled faintly. "I'm putting together a team. Not ordinary agents. They're not soldiers. They're people with personal reasons for joining this war."
"And you want me to be part of it?"
said erland
"No. I want you to choose."
He pushed a file towards her. In it, photos of other victims. Data on the location of the spread. And one big name: Black Sun, the criminal organization suspected of spreading this virus.
Erland looked at the pile of data in front of him. The choice was in his hands. But deep down, he knew: the moment he saw that man die on the train... his life had changed. And there was no going back.
Erland closed the file slowly, then looked at Vera. "You want me to join the fight against a criminal organization and a deadly virus, just because I... happened to see one dead person on the train?"
Vera crossed her arms. "It's not just because of that. I've been monitoring you even before that incident."
"You mean... you guys followed me?"
"It's not just you. We're following anyone who might have a connection to the spread of this virus. You're on the list because of your genetic heritage, not just your social background. You have potential that even you don't know yet."
Erland gave a short laugh. "This is crazy."
"The world is heading towards madness, Erland. The organization we call Black Sun isn't just selling drugs. They're testing a prototype biological virus. These aren't street dealers-they're backed by technology, money, and scientific brains far beyond reason. If this goes unchecked, in a matter of months the virus could spread between countries... or mutate."
Erland was silent. Vera's words sounded like a movie script, but her eyes were honest. Too sharp to make it up.
"What happens if I refuse?"
Vera did not answer directly. She simply opened the door to the room. Behind her, a large screen displayed drone footage of a corner of the city with police lines, covered bodies, and a hazmat team evacuating something from a sewage plant.
"This is the fourth district. Three hours ago," he said coldly. "Three teenagers were found dead from inhaling a liquid version of the same drug. And one of them... spread his bodily fluids to his family through casual contact. Now a whole block is quarantined."
Erland bit his lip. This is not a game.
"I have no skills. I'm not a policeman, not a soldier. I've never even picked up a gun."
"You will be trained. And you will not be alone." Vera looked at her deeply. "This team is made up of people just like you. They too have a past. But they chose to fight."
Erland looked down at his own hands. There was a small cut on the palm-the remnants of manual labor. The world had pressed down on him long enough. Perhaps this... was a calling.
"Or," Vera added calmly, "you can walk out of this room, go back to your little apartment, pretend you didn't see anything. Until the day your own body starts to decompose."
Shut up.
Then, slowly but steadily, Erland sighed.
"I'm in. But I want to know everything. From the beginning. Including... why my father is linked to all of this."
A small smile appeared on Vera's face.
"One step at a time, Erland. Come on, you'll meet your team tomorrow morning."
Erland followed Vera out of the room, into a long white hallway. His steps were still hesitant, but in his eyes a light began to burn.
A war is about to begin.
And he, for some reason, was right in the middle of it.