The sunlight was too bright for Zack's taste.
It spilled through the gymnasium windows, bouncing off rows of chairs and banners celebrating Riverside High's Class of 20XX.
He sat in the back, hands in his pockets, ignoring the speeches. His classmates were laughing, crying, hugging parents. Zack just wanted it to end.
It was supposed to be his new life no more mercenary work, no more blood, just normalcy.
Normalcy was boring.
The principal's voice droned on. "We are the future—"
A thunderous BOOM cut him off. The gym rattled.
Through the windows, Zack caught sight of black military drones streaking across the sky. Their wings unfolded, dropping canisters the size of duffel bags.
The first canister smashed into the football field.
It hissed — not smoke, not gas — but a writhing, pulsing green mist that slithered through the air like it was alive.
"Chemical attack!" someone screamed.
Panic erupted. Chairs toppled. Students stampeded for the exits.
Zack didn't move. His eyes tracked the mist, calculating wind speed, spread pattern. He'd seen this before — not here, not in the U.S., but in border wars where governments used population control weapons.
Except this… this wasn't standard nerve gas.
The mist touched the first student.
They froze, trembled, and then their skin tore open like wet paper.
Bones snapped. Their eyes glazed over white.
A wet SNAP of jaws — and the infected girl lunged at her best friend, teeth burying into her throat.
Screams became gurgles.
Zack stood up. Calm. Unhurried.
He stepped over bodies as the infection spread like wildfire.
One of the security guards tried to hold the door, but the horde swarmed him. His sidearm skidded across the floor — right to Zack's feet.
He picked it up.
The grip was familiar, comforting.
A soft chime rang in his head.
> [Initializing… Military Arsenal Summoning System Online]
Welcome, Operative #0001. Tactical Points: 0.
His lips curved into the faintest smile.
Normal life was over.
Good.