The engines around Don and Charles

Low but constant.

VRRMMM—~

Smoke drifted past in uneven waves, carried by the leftover wind currents that hadn't fully settled from jets flying low not too far.

Don stood beside the Land Cruiser, one hand resting briefly against the frame before dropping back to his side.

His gaze moved once more across the perimeter—

Then stopped.

Charles had already turned.

His attention fixed on one man.

He stood slightly ahead of the others. Not by much.

But enough.

The difference was clear.

His beret—Silver.

His posture—Straight.

Lean build, tall, shoulders narrow but firm. His face showed age—not worn down, but defined. Lines at the corners of his eyes, jaw set in a way that suggested long hours, longer decisions.

Mid-forties.

Maybe more.

His uniform matched the others—black base, silver-lined armor plating—but his seemed to carry weight.

Authority.

Charles stepped toward him.

"What's the situation, Mr. Olynk?"

Mr. Olynk gave a slight nod.

Respectful and immediate.

"As it stands, sir, the tower is still secure."

His voice was calm.

Even under everything.

"We've mostly been attacked by B-Class infected and lower. They're dangerous—but with our ammunition, it hasn't been an issue taking them out."

A brief pause.

His eyes shifted slightly, just enough to acknowledge the reality behind the words.

"We have four injured… and one casualty among our men."

Charles's jaw tightened.

Subtle.

But there.

Don noticed.

Couldn't tell why.

Loss?

Or numbers.

Both looked the same on his face.

Don stepped forward.

Just one step.

That was enough. Every weapon around them shifted—

Centered on them.

Don's body reacted instantly.

Muscles tightened.

His stance adjusted without thinking—

Weight shifting slightly forward.

Ready.

If one of them pulled—

If one—

His heart kicked harder in his chest.

Not fear.

Not fully.

But awareness.

Caution.

Could he stop them all?

…Unclear.

But hat was enough to raise the stakes.

Charles frowned.

A slight turn of his head.

Not toward Don—

Toward them.

Mr. Olynk spoke immediately.

"I hope you understand, sir."

His tone remained steady.

Respectful.

"But before we receive any further commands—or provide additional information…"

A breath.

"…you'll have to be screened."

A fraction of a pause.

"Sorry, sir. Your father said—"

"I know." Charles cut him off.

Flat. No edge.

"It's fine, Mr. Olynk."

The tension in his jaw eased slightly.

Not gone. Just contained.

He exhaled once—

Short.

Then glanced around. At the vehicles. At the guards. At the civilians beyond.

His jaw set again.

"…well then," he said. "Lead the way, we've wasted enough time as it is."

Mr. Olynk nodded.

Once.

He turned slightly—

Gesturing toward the entrance.

"This way, sir."

The response from the perimeter was immediate.

Several guards broke formation—

Moving fast.

Boots hitting the ground in sync.

They reached the entrance and repositioned, forming a tighter line.

Weapons raised.

Not at the outside anymore.

At them.

Prepared.

Watching for any sign—

Any twitch—

Any wrong move.

Don didn't like it. Not even a little.

The weight of their aim sat heavy. Too many angles.Too many lines of fire.

But he understood.

So he said nothing.

His expression stayed level.

Still.

Only his head shifted slightly—

Turning toward the outer perimeter.

Beyond the SUVs—

The voices were still there.

Cracked.

Desperate.

"Please—!"

"Just let us in—!"

A child crying.

Someone coughing.

Someone begging—

Over and over.

Don's gaze lingered.

Half a second longer than it should have.

His chest tightened.

Not outwardly.

Then—

"Don."

Charles's voice pulled him back.

He turned.

Charles was already moving toward the entrance.

He glanced at him once.

"Let's go get screened and geared up."

A brief pause.

His eyes hardened slightly.

"After that…"

"…we take back our city."

No rise in tone.

No speech.

Just a statement.

Don held his gaze for a second.

Then nodded.

"Let's do it"

Simple.

Enough.

He stepped forward.

Moving toward the entrance.

Behind them—

The cries didn't stop.

---

Meanwhile—

Back at SHU—

The campus had fallen apart.

Not in one place.

Everywhere.

Across courtyards—

Inside lecture halls—

Along pathways that once carried idle conversations—

Now filled with screams.

Clashes broke out in pockets—

Uncoordinated on one side—

Precise on the other.

The infected moved together.

Not as individuals.

As one.

They didn't speak.

Didn't signal.

But every action flowed into the next without delay.

And it showed.

They were fewer—

Far fewer—

But the bodies on the ground said enough.

The uninfected were losing.

Fast.

---

Near the central walkway—

A group ran.

Students.

Two parents.

One staff member.

Their steps uneven—

Breaths breaking—

Fear driving them forward without direction.

Behind them—

Three figures followed.

Barefoot.

Unhurried.

Their clothes were torn at the edges—fabric hanging loose where something had forced its way through earlier.

One man wore what used to be a crisp suit.

Dark.

Now marked with dirt and blood.

The second—

Casual clothing.

Shirt half-torn at the sleeve.

Pants ripped at the knee.

Between them—

A woman.

Jeans.

Blouse.

Both stained.

All three moved with the same rhythm.

Steps aligned.

Eyes empty but focused.

The distance closed quickly. Too quickly.

A young boy broke from the group—

Panic taking over.

He ran harder than the rest, feet slamming against the pavement. His breath hitcheed as he looked back.

Saw them closer—

Too close—

"No—no—!"

He turned sharply—

Trying to cut across a side path—

But—

The second man was already there.

Intercepting.

No hesitation.

His arm drove forward—

A clean punch—

Straight into the boy's stomach.

THUD—!

Air burst from the boy's lungs—

His body folded instantly and he hit the ground—

Hard—

GASP—!

Instinct kicked in.

His hands shot forward—

A translucent barrier formed around him—

A curved shield snapping into place—

Faint blue.

Shaking.

The man didn't stop.

His fist came down again—

CRACK—!

The shield shattered on impact—

Fragments breaking apart like glass—Vanishing before they hit the ground.

The boy's eyes widened—Terror locking his body in place.

He tried to move—Couldn't.

The first man stepped forward.

Slow.

His mouth opened—

An orange glow built inside—

Bright.

Growing.

The boy saw it.

His hands lifted weakly—

But it was too late.

The blast came.

BOOOOM—!

A concentrated beam tore forward—

Striking his head—

His shoulders—

His neck—

The force held for only a moment—

But it was enough.

When it ended—

There was nothing left of those parts.

Only charred flesh—

Blackened edges where his head once was.

The body dropped.

Still.

Smoke rising faintly from what remained.

The trio didn't react.

Didn't pause.

They turned—

Together—Toward the others still fleeing.

Then—

A voice.

Behind them.

Loud. Raw.

"You bastards!!"

Heavy footsteps followed—

THUD—THUD—THUD—~

A large man charged toward them.

Burly.

His skin marked with layered burn scars—

Old and new.

His fists clenched—

Face twisted in anger.

He closed the distance fast.

The two men didn't move.

Didn't brace.

They simply watched him approach—Expressions blank.

He raised his arm—

Ready to strike—

But—

Something cut through the air—

WHIP—~

Before he could react—It wrapped around his neck.

A glowing blue line—

Tight.

Immediate.

SSSSS—~

His skin sizzled on contact—

A harsh sound—

Burning.

He groaned—

Low—

Grabbing at it instinctively—

His hand closing around the glowing strand—

SSSSS—!

His grip burned—

Skin breaking—

But he held.

Then he turned—

Eyes snapping upward.

The woman hovered above him.

Body suspended mid-air.

One arm extended—

The whip connected to her hand—

Light blue—

Flowing—

Like it was part of her.

He pulled—

Hard—

Trying to drag her down—

But before he could—

The two men moved.

Both surged forward—

Explosive.

The lead man opened his mouth again—

The orange glow returned—

Brighter this time—

Then—

BOOOOM—!

The beam struck the burly man's stomach.

Direct and with no resistance.

It pierced through—

Straight through his body—

Bursting out his back—

A clean hole left behind.

His eyes widened—

Body locking in place—

Blood spilling from his mouth.

But he didn't fall.

Not yet.

He pulled again—

Dragging the woman downward—

His free arm lifting—

Preparing to strike her as she came closer—

Then—The second man arrived.

His fingers shifted—

Nails extending—

Stretching outward—

Long.

Knife-like.

They shot forward—

THKK—!

Driving into the burly man's arm—

Stopping the motion—

Pinning it in place.

A strained groan tore out of him—

His strength faltering—

Just for a moment.

That was enough.

The woman moved.

Her other hand lifted—

Another whip formed—

Snapping outward—

WRAP—!

It coiled around his head.

Both lines tightened.

Simultaneously.

She pulled.

Hard.

The first whip tore deeper into his neck—

The second—

Dragged his head sideways—

Then—

Severed.

CRRRK—!

The head separated from the body in a violent motion—

Blood spraying outward—

The body dropped—

Heavy—

THUD—~

The head followed, rolling once then stopping.

The trio released their holds.

The glowing whips faded.

The nails retracted.

The orange light vanished.

All three turned—

At the same time.

Their attention fixed ahead.

The Compound.

In the distance—

Figures ran toward it.

Dozens.

Desperate.

The trio lifted.

Slowly.

Feet leaving the ground—

Bodies rising into the air.

Then—

They moved.

Gliding forward.

---

Beneath the Compound however...

Deep below—

Inside reinforced walls—

A different sound filled the space.

Impact.

Over and over.

THUD—!

CRACK—!

THUD—!

The air inside the cell seemed to tremble with each strike.

Redstar moved within it.

Alone.

Training.

Every motion carried force—Every strike pushed against the limits of the room itself.

The walls held.

Barely.

The sound carried upward—

Faint.

Distant.

But present.

Above—

No one noticed.

Atleast... not yet.