Somewhere near the Romanian-Ukrainian Border – Day 0
The smell of jet fuel, smoke, and blood.
It was the first thing Logan Hale noticed when he regained consciousness.
His ears rang with a high-pitched whine. Debris rained down like sharp hail, and a thick, orange haze filled the fractured room. Concrete dust danced in the stale air, clinging to his lashes, seeping into his lungs. For a moment, he couldn't breathe—only stare through one half-open eye at the ceiling that no longer existed.
The roof had been torn open by fire and steel.
He tried to sit up, but pain tore through his side like a blade. He grunted, teeth clenched.
"Focus, Logan... focus."
He checked his limbs. Right leg—fine. Left leg—numb but intact. Left arm—scratched. Right hand—bloodied, gripping something.
A rifle. His HK416. Scratched, dirty—but still whole.
Training kicked in.
He pushed up on his elbow, dragging himself free from a pile of collapsed ceiling tiles. A jagged steel rebar jutted through the wall beside him, barely inches from his shoulder. Another second, another angle, and he would've been a corpse.
He pulled his helmet off.
It was cracked down the center.
So was his memory.
---
Three Hours Earlier
Logan Hale was part of a joint NATO-Romanian task force. Codename: Operation Valkyrie Black. The virus outbreak—classified as Crimson-27—had begun along the eastern Ukrainian frontlines. Whispers said Russia had developed the bioweapon during one of their secret "repopulation sterilization" experiments. Ukraine retaliated with an aerosolized neural disruptor.
The cocktail of both spread through the Carpathian winds—mutating into something no lab could control. By the time international eyes opened, three cities had already gone dark. No survivors. No signals. Only distorted satellite footage of people ripping each other apart like wild animals.
The virus wasn't natural. It didn't just kill.
It evolved.
---
Back in the Present
Logan pulled himself out of the wreckage. His comm unit was busted. The building he had been stationed in—once a secure forward ops base in Suceava—was now a mangled skeleton of concrete and steel.
And outside… silence.
No engines. No radio chatter. No voices.
Just the wind, and the distant crackle of fires.
Then the screams began.
Not normal screams. Distorted. Twisted. Wrong.
He crouched beside a ruined wall and peeked out through a hole.
The city below was a wasteland. Apartment buildings had collapsed. Roads had split open. Something was burning in the center—a jetliner. The fuselage had slammed through the base compound and detonated like a warhead.
Civilian flight. Logan had watched it descend moments before blackout.
He remembered now. He'd been watching the radar, and then—
Impact.
---
His eyes scanned the street. He counted movement.
Figures.
Shambling. Twisting.
Too slow for soldiers. Too fast for dead men.
"Zombies ?"
He didn't want to call them that. But his training couldn't deny the truth: whatever they were, they weren't human anymore.
One of them turned toward the noise of crackling flames. Its skin was peeling, gray. Veins blackened. Its jaw hung loose, barely attached. And yet it moved—angrily. Fast.
Then it sprinted toward the wreckage.
"Shit "
Logan ducked behind the wall and took stock. He had two spare mags, one was full while the second was half consumed. A combat knife. A broken radio. And a bleeding rib.
This wasn't a skirmish.
It was a war zone.
And he was alone.
---
[SYSTEM ACTIVATING…]
He blinked.
"Floating words ?"
A HUD.
Glitching static filled his vision for a moment, and then text began printing itself across the edge of his sightline:
> MILITARY COMMAND SYSTEM - Version 1.0
Status: Emergency Protocol
Commander Identified: Logan Hale
Rank: Task Force Spectre, Tier-1 Special Forces
SYSTEM BOOTING…
Initializing Tactical Resources...
[ERROR: Army strength = 0]
Primary Objectives:
Survive
Rebuild
Expand
Available Points: 0
Resource Acquisition: Kill confirmed infected units to gain WAR CREDITS
Summoning Protocol Unlocked (Pending Command Authority) <
Logan stared, sweat mixing with the blood on his face.
"What the hell is this…?"
He blinked again. Still there.
The system was in his vision—like an AR interface burned into his retinas.
---
He didn't have time to ask questions.
Two infected were already moving toward the base. Their feet dragged at first, then picked up into wild, inhuman sprints.
Logan raised his rifle.
Single shot. Center mass.
Pop.
No effect.
Head. Always the head.
He corrected, fired again.
The first creature collapsed mid-leap, its skull exploding in a wet mist.
+10 WAR CREDITS
He heard the sound in his mind. A coin drop. Metallic and cold.
Second one reached him faster than expected—too fast. Logan pivoted and slammed his boot into its knee, breaking its leg backward. It didn't scream—just thrashed. Logan drew his knife and stabbed upward through its chin, twisting until the creature stopped moving.
+10 WAR CREDITS
Breathing heavy, he wiped the blade clean.
The HUD glowed again.
> WAR CREDITS: 20
Summoning Options Unlocked
[Summon: Infantry Unit (Cold-War Tier) – 10 Credits]
[Summon: Basic Supply Crate – 5 Credits]
[Summon: Combat Drone (Recon) – 150 Credits]
His heart pounded.
This wasn't just hallucination.
The system was real. Integrated. Tactical.
And if he was careful… it might just be his only chance to survive.
---
He summoned.
He focused on the first option. A sharp hum filled the air—like static distortion mixed with thunder.
And then it happened.
A blue shimmer—flickering, barely visible—and in its place: a soldier.
Full gear. Helmet. Holding a Type 56 rifle, webbed in gear more suited to the late 1980s than today.
He saluted.
"Private Alexandru Petrescu, reporting for duty, Commander!"
Logan blinked.
"What in God's name…"
The soldier was real. Breathing. A pulse. Dog tags.
Human
"Sir, awaiting orders."
He wasn't just summoning weapons.
He was summoning people.
---
Logan scanned the burning horizon. The infected were gathering. Dozens. Maybe more.
And now, there were two of them.
Two against hell.
Logan raised his rifle, glancing at the soldier at his side.
"Petrescu, on me. Let's show these bastards we're not done yet."
The soldier grinned. "Sir, yes sir."
They moved.
Into the fire.
---
To be continued…