In a mundane civilian apartment, shadows trembled.
"Let's think… let's really think."
Lu Qiu sprawled on a threadbare sofa, staring at the ceiling, blood drying on his fingertips—human blood, warm and cloying. He'd been here for hours, sated by a meal he hadn't needed but taken anyway. Across the room, a boy of ten huddled in the corner, wrists bound, gag muffling his sobs. His sister lay crumpled on the floor, neck torn, life ebbing in slow, sticky waves.
"Shh." Lu Qiu smirked, ignoring the child's terror. On the coffee table lay a map of Wenhan City, its edges stained with crimson smudges where he'd marked exits—each now crossed out in jagged bloodlines. Beside it rested a Blackstar pistol, borrowed from the (siblings) who'd naively sheltered him.
"Third-level mutants," he mused, dragging a bloodied finger across the map, "powerful, but predictable. Su Le's flame incinerates them too easily." He drew a snarling crow next to the largest red (X), its wings outlined in dripping blood. "Humans evolve when scared, don't they? Even their heroes."
The boy's struggles intensified, boots scuffing against the blood-soaked floor. Lu Qiu's gaze flicked to him, then away—an actor ignoring his prop.
System feedback hummed in his mind: Class A Pyrokinesis gene stabilized in host. Full viral assimilation in 15 days.
"Fifteen days," Lu Qiu murmured, tapping the map's edge, "plenty of time for the Federation to raze this city. But Su Le… he'll fight to save every last rat in the maze." His smile turned razor-thin. Soldiers like him always do.
He stood, pistol in hand, and approached the boy, whose eyes widened with renewed terror. "Relax, kid." The words dripped honey, his voice a warm blanket over a blade. "I'm not here to hurt you."
The pistol cracked twice—ropes snapped, fraying into the air. The boy froze, staring at his suddenly free hands, then at Lu Qiu's gentle grin, the kind that belonged to a big brother, not a monster.
"Run," Lu Qiu urged, gesturing to the open door, "the checkpoint's two blocks east. Tell them… you're alone."
The child bolted, tears drying, hope a fragile flame in his chest. He didn't see Lu Qiu's smile twist into a sneer, nor the shadow that detached from the wall behind him—a zombie girl, once(white-dressed toddler), now a thing of (torn dress) and dripping fangs, her skull pockmarked by a bullet hole that oozed blackened blood.
"Ungh…" Her growl was a rusty saw, claws sprouting from fingertips as she stalked the boy, who'd paused at the threshold, staring at the rising sun—a symbol of safety, of normalcy.
Then came the crunch of bone, the wet rip of flesh. The boy's scream cut off abruptly, replaced by the slurp of feeding. Lu Qiu sighed, reloading the pistol with the last bullet.
"Sentimentality's a flaw," he chided, glancing at the sister's corpse, now stirring, eyes clouding over. She'd join the horde soon, just another mindless drone.
The zombie girl lurched back into the room, chest torn open, heart pulsating with sickly light—Level 2 infection, her body warped by residual Blacklight Virus. Lu Qiu tilted his head, amused by her persistence.
"Brave little thing," he cooed, raising the pistol, "but even monsters tire."
The shot rang out, destroying her torso. She collapsed, but her claws still twitched, fingers inching toward him. Lu Qiu stepped over her, pausing to pluck a dripping tendon from her arm—viral residue, useful for later experiments.
At the door, he paused, regarding the blood-spattered map. The boy's death had netted him 1 Despair Point—paltry, but symbolic. Hope, he thought, makes the despair sweeter when it rots.
He slid on the Disguise Glasses, his scarlet eyes fading to human brown, his aura softening to something harmless, even vulnerable. In the mirror, a fragile, bespectacled youth stared back—a perfect mask for the checkpoint.
"Showtime," he whispered, pocketing the Blackstar. Outside, distant gunfire rattled, a symphony of human defiance.
Let them believe in their heroes. Let them cling to hope like a life raft in a sea of blood. Lu Qiu knew the truth: in the end, every raft splinters, every hero falls, and despair always wears the kindest smile.
And as he stepped into the dawn, a single thought lingered: Su Le's flame will flicker… and I'll be there to blow it out.
The city groaned around him, (zombies) shambling toward the scent of hope—and the monster who'd weaponized it.