Alright, so far, anything feel off to anyone?"
Road, the demolitions expert, kept his signature ill-timed humor, but his LMG was raised without hesitation, those beast-like green eyes scanning the surroundings with a predator's alertness.
"Yeah. No bodies on the first floor," Wolf Mom, the squad leader, grunted, her voice low and gravelly, already checking the safety on her assault rifle—a habit ingrained after too many ops gone south.
Dr. "Four Eyes" Chen glanced down at the virus detector on her wrist, a look of confusion crossing her striking Eurasian features. "Ten o'clock, approximately a hundred meters. Strong bio-viral signature. From the readings, at least a thousand walkers, maybe more, massed together."
"Survivors," Wolf Mom deduced, her jaw tightening. "Trying to block us with a horde... Clever, in a suicidal kind of way." She gestured sharply to Four Eyes. "Four Eyes, you're up first. Use the dispersal rounds to punch us a hole. Road, prep demo. Ghost, you take point on cleanup—any stragglers, you put 'em down before they blink."
As Wolf Mom laid out the plan, Ninja, the close-quarters combat specialist, suddenly stiffened. Every hair on his neck stood on end—a primal, life-saving instinct honed in the fires of a hundred near-death scrapes. He didn't think; he reacted, spinning with his combat knife raised defensively across his chest.
CLANG!
The sound of metal on metal rang out as an arrow with white fletching slammed into his blade. The impact sent a shower of sparks dancing, and while the force wasn't overwhelming, there was something wrong about it—a sick, writhing energy that snaked up the knife's hilt and into his arm, coiling in his gut like a live eel.
PUCK!
Ninja doubled over, a spray of blood erupting from his mouth, instantly reddening the inside of his gas mask lens.
"Ninja!"
Road roared, horror and rage sharpening his voice. His LMG erupted, a staccato of death that chewed up the second-floor railing, showering the area in glass shards and splinters.
But while the entire USS team's focus was glued to that unexpected arrow strike, a towering, invisible shadow had already used the chaos of gunfire as cover. It slipped in from behind, silent as a ghost.
SWISH!
A blade, colder and brighter than moonlight, sliced through the air. Four Eyes never saw it coming. A thin red line appeared across her elegant throat, and then her head was tumbling free, blood geysering upward in a grotesque fountain as her body crumpled.
First Ninja, now Four Eyes—decapitated before they could even pinpoint the threat. The team was reeling, stunned by the precision and brutality of the attacks.
In that split-second of confusion, the death-dealing blade struck again. This time, Bertha, the medic, met the same gruesome fate, her head bouncing away across the concrete.
Ghost, the sniper, had faster reflexes. She twisted violently, bringing her sniper rifle up behind her just in time to block the follow-through swing aimed at her neck. The blade bit into the rifle's stock with a sickening crunch. She avoided decapitation, but the force of the blow sent her sprawling, a mouthful of blood spewing from her lips as she hit the ground hard.
That's when they finally got a glimpse of the killer. Not a person, but a massive, thick-backed Chinese broadsword—floating in mid-air. The hilt was adorned with a grotesque ghost-head design, its eyes seeming to glow with a malevolent hunger.
"Ninja!"
Road roared, horror and rage sharpening his voice. His LMG erupted, a staccato of death that chewed up the second-floor railing, showering the area in glass shards and splinters.
But while the entire USS team's focus was glued to that unexpected arrow strike, a towering, invisible shadow had already used the chaos of gunfire as cover. It slipped in from behind, silent as a ghost.
SWISH!
A blade, colder and brighter than moonlight, sliced through the air. Four Eyes never saw it coming. A thin red line appeared across her elegant throat, and then her head was tumbling free, blood geysering upward in a grotesque fountain as her body crumpled.
First Ninja, now Four Eyes—decapitated before they could even pinpoint the threat. The team was reeling, stunned by the precision and brutality of the attacks.
In that split-second of confusion, the death-dealing blade struck again. This time, Bertha, the medic, met the same gruesome fate, her head bouncing away across the concrete.
Ghost, the sniper, had faster reflexes. She twisted violently, bringing her sniper rifle up behind her just in time to block the follow-through swing aimed at her neck. The blade bit into the rifle's stock with a sickening crunch. She avoided decapitation, but the force of the blow sent her sprawling, a mouthful of blood spewing from her lips as she hit the ground hard.
That's when they finally got a glimpse of the killer. Not a person, but a massive, thick-backed Chinese broadsword—floating in mid-air. The hilt was adorned with a grotesque ghost-head design, its eyes seeming to glow with a malevolent hunger.
"GET DOWN!" Ninja, despite his injuries, launched himself at Wolf Mom, shoving her aside. He brought his own blades up, catching the descending guitou dao (ghost-head saber) with a desperate block.
"Son of a bitch! Is this some kind of telekinesis? Like Subject Zero?!" Road screamed, his eyes bloodshot as he emptied his LMG at the floating blade. Bullets pinged off the steel, forcing the spectral weapon back a step.
"No! Not telekinesis!" Ninja gasped, the strain evident in his voice. He'd noticed something—when Road's bullets struck the broadsword, dust and debris on the floor behind it were being pushed aside, as if by an invisible barrier. There was something holding that sword.
Ignoring the fresh wave of pain from his internal injuries, Ninja hammered a fist against his chest, then spat a mist of blood toward the sword.
"What the hell—?"
The crimson mist hung in the air, and suddenly, the outline of a creature became visible behind the broadsword. It was enormous—easily seven feet tall—wrapped head to toe in dirty, ragged bandages like some ancient mummy. But its face... there was nothing. No eyes, no nose, no mouth. Just smooth, featureless skin stretched tight.
"Quit gawkin'! Light it up!" Wolf Mom snapped back to action, her rifle barking as she emptied a magazine into the creature's torso. It staggered back under the fire but showed no signs of going down.
"Headshot! Aim for the head!" Ghost yelled, crawling backward and drawing her sidearm, firing blindly at the bandaged horror's featureless face.
The creature, sensing the shift in target, brought the guitou dao up to block the incoming bullets, then suddenly abandoned its attack on the squad. With a fluid motion, it turned and leaped into the ornamental fountain a dozen meters away, vanishing beneath the churning water.
"Shit! It's trying to wash off the blood!" Road realized, slamming a new magazine into his LMG.
Ninja, moving on pure adrenaline, sprinted to the fountain's edge, leaping onto the rim. He aimed his pistol at the rippling water where the creature had submerged, but it was already gone.
"Fall back! NOW! Don't give it another opening to hit us from the blind side!" Wolf Mom roared, ripping off her gas mask and hurling it to the ground. She backed away, fast as she could, putting distance between herself and the water, her fingers flying to reload her rifle.
Ghost and Ninja, their expressions grim, joined her, pistols drawn, forming a tight triangle with their backs to each other. They covered every angle, their breathing ragged, their eyes locked on the now-settling pool.
This was a waiting game now.
They'd paid for this moment with three lives—Four Eyes, Bertha, Road. All to corner this invisible nightmare in the fountain. If they lost sight of it now, if it slipped away into the labyrinth of the compound... they'd never get another shot at killing it.
Seconds ticked by, stretching into an eternity. The only sounds were their heavy breathing and the distant moans of the approaching horde.
Then, Wolf Mom's face paled. A cold, sickening realization dawned in her eyes.
"Wait a second..." Her voice was barely a whisper, but it cut through the tension like a knife. "What the hell did we just forget?"