Night embraced Hyde Park in a blanket of cold fog, broken only by the sickly glow spilling from the warehouse windows that the Crucible had seemingly taken over now.
Inside, metal clanged, someone screamed, and something thick hit concrete. Again. And again.
Even out here, the sounds of torture crawled beneath the skin like insects.
The infected paced the perimeter, silhouettes dragging themselves in lazy circles. Others hugged themselves, red eyes glinting in the muted light.
Warnings, if anything.
The Crucible ignored them like background noise.
A lone gunman trudged along the fence line, an AK slung against his chest, his breath fogging in the air.
His boots crunched on broken glass, his shoulders tight with exhaustion.
He looked like man who didn't want to be here, but was here anyway.
He never heard me step out of the dark.
He only felt the cold steel alloy plunging into his throat.
His eyes went wide. A wet gasp escaped him.
