Luke's apartment felt alien, the familiar comforting contours of home jarring against the day's violence. He winced as he eased himself onto the couch, shoulder throbbing beneath a hastily applied bandage. Ahri paced near the window, vigilant even here. Zeke, battered but alive, sat hunched in an armchair, his eyes haunted. Zannah was dead asleep in the bedroom after staying awake for two days scoping out the warehouse.
The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken questions.
"Alright, Zeke," Luke finally said, his voice rough with exhaustion. "What the hell did we just walk into?"
Zeke's laugh was bitter, empty. "Something way bigger than any of us, man." He ran a shaking hand through his hair. "You ever hear of Black Phoenix?"
Luke exchanged a glance with Ahri. "Terrorist group, right? Fringe nutjobs?"
"I wish." Zeke leaned forward, wincing. "They're so much worse. And they've got people in high places. Real high."
As Zeke spoke, laying out the fragments of what he'd uncovered, Luke felt the ground shift beneath him. A virus. A weapon beyond anything they'd imagined. And a sample, hidden in plain sight in a downtown skyscraper.
"Jesus," Luke breathed, mind reeling. "How deep does this go?"
Zeke's eyes met his, filled with a mix of fear and determination. "All the way up, man. I was about to blow the whistle, take it to the top brass, when my own fucking boss…" He trailed off, the betrayal still raw.
Luke's fists clenched, a fresh surge of anger cutting through his fatigue. "We need to do something. Now."
Ahri's voice was sharp, cutting through his impulse. "Like what, Luke? We're not exactly equipped to take on a shadow organization with a WMD."
He knew she was right, but the thought of sitting idle while this threat loomed… "We can't just do nothing," he argued, struggling to his feet. The room swam for a moment, last night's adrenaline long faded.
"First," Zeke interjected, "we need to secure that sample. If they move it, we lose our only lead."
Luke nodded, mind already racing through tactical scenarios. "Downtown's crawling with cameras, security. We'd need—"
A sharp knock at the door cut him off. Everyone froze.
Luke moved silently to the peephole, hand instinctively reaching for a weapon he no longer carried. He relaxed slightly at the familiar face. "It's Brian," he murmured, opening the door.
Brian slipped in, looking haggard. His eyes widened at the state of the group. "Christ, what happened to you guys?"
"Long story," Luke said, locking the door. "But we've got bigger problems."
As they brought Brian up to speed, Luke couldn't shake the feeling that they'd crossed a point of no return. The weight of what they knew, what they'd done, settled on his shoulders like a physical burden.
"So," he said finally, looking around at his battered, exhausted team. "What's our next move?"
The question hung in the air, heavy with implications. Whatever they decided, Luke knew their lives would never be the same. The normality of his apartment felt like a façade now, a thin veneer over a world that had suddenly become far more dangerous and complex.
He waited for their input, acutely aware that each passing moment brought them closer to a confrontation with forces they barely understood. The taste of gun smoke still lingered in his mouth, a grim reminder of what might be required of them.
Ahri leaned forward, her dark eyes glinting with determination in the dim light of Luke's apartment. The faint hum of the city outside seemed to fade away as she spoke, her voice low and steady.
"We break in and steal the sample," she said, her fingers drumming a soft rhythm on the worn arm of the couch. "I've got contacts in the CIA from my time there. I can pull some strings, get us access to the building."
The room fell silent as Ahri's suggestion hung in the air, heavy with implications. The soft tick of the wall clock suddenly seemed deafening. Luke's eyes narrowed, his mind racing through the possibilities, the dangers, the sheer audacity of what Ahri was proposing. He'd known she had a past with the CIA, but this... this was something else entirely.
Luke ran a hand through his hair, wincing as the movement pulled at his injured shoulder. The bandage there felt suddenly constricting, a reminder of how quickly things could go wrong. He glanced around the room, taking in the battered faces of his team.
Zeke sat hunched in the armchair, his bruised knuckles stark against the faded upholstery. His eyes, usually sharp and alert, now held a haunted look that spoke volumes about what he'd been through. Brian paced near the window, his fingers twitching as if reaching for a keyboard that wasn't there, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by a nervous energy.
And then there was Ahri, her posture radiating a dangerous competence that Luke had only glimpsed before. The soft lamplight caught the faint scar along her jawline, a memento from her CIA days that she rarely spoke about. Now, that past was suddenly front and center, a key that could potentially unlock their way into a fortress of secrets.
Luke's gaze drifted to the coffee table, where a half-empty bottle of whiskey stood next to a stack of hastily scribbled notes. The amber liquid caught the light, reminding him of long nights spent planning ops, weighing risks against rewards. But this... this was different. This was crossing a line that they might never be able to uncross.
"CIA contacts," Luke finally said, his voice rough with a mix of exhaustion and disbelief. "Just how deep do these connections go, Ahri? And more importantly, can we trust them?"
Ahri's lips curved into a humorless smile. "Deep enough to get us what we need. As for trust..." She shrugged, a gesture that spoke volumes. "In this game, trust is a luxury we can't afford. But they owe me, and they know the cost of crossing me."
The weight of her words settled over the room like a shroud. Luke found himself studying Ahri with new eyes, wondering just how much of her past remained hidden, even from him. The woman he thought he knew suddenly seemed like a stranger, dangerous and unpredictable.
A car horn blared outside, startling them all. Brian jumped, knocking over an empty coffee mug. The sound of it hitting the carpet was oddly muffled, as if even the inanimate objects in the room were trying to keep quiet.
"Jesus," Zeke muttered, rubbing his face with shaking hands. "We're really considering this, aren't we? Breaking into a secure facility, stealing a potentially deadly virus sample... It's like something out of a damn spy movie."
Luke couldn't help but agree. The normalcy of his apartment - the faded couch, the mismatched curtains, the stack of old magazines in the corner - felt like a thin veneer now, barely concealing the dangerous world they were about to plunge into.
He moved to the window, pushing aside the curtain to gaze out at the city skyline. Somewhere out there, hidden behind glass and steel, lay answers they desperately needed. And a threat that could potentially destroy everything.
"If we do this," Luke said slowly, his reflection in the glass looking as uncertain as he felt, "there's no going back. We'll be burning bridges, crossing lines that can't be uncrossed." He turned back to face the team, his expression grim. "I need to know that everyone understands what's at stake here. This isn't just about us anymore."
Ahri's gaze was steady, unflinching. "You got a better idea? Because from where I'm standing, we're already neck-deep in this shit. Might as well go all in."
Luke paced the small living room, hyperaware of the eyes following his movement. Zeke, still pale and battered in the armchair. Brian, uncharacteristically quiet, leaning against the wall. And Ahri, her posture radiating a dangerous competence he'd only glimpsed before. They didn't say anything, but they didn't need to. Their eyes told him enough already.
"Walk me through it," Luke finally said, his tone carefully neutral. "These contacts of yours – how reliable are they? And what kind of access are we talking about?"
A shadow of a smile flickered across Ahri's face, like the ghost of a long-buried battlefield. "Let's just say I've got some favors to call in. Building schematics, security protocols, maybe even a keycard or two. It won't be a cakewalk, but it's doable."
"Doable," Luke echoed, the word tasting bitter. He turned to Zeke. "And you're sure about this sample? It's our only lead?"
Zeke nodded grimly. "It's all we've got. If Black Phoenix moves it…" He didn't need to finish the thought.
Luke's mind flashed back to the warehouse, the weight of the gun in his hand, the sickening crunch of bone. He'd crossed lines he never thought he would during his last deployment, all in the name of doing what was right. Was this so different?
"Brian," Luke said, turning to their tech expert. "What are we looking at in terms of digital security? Cameras, alarms, that sort of thing?"
Brian straightened, his expression a mix of excitement and apprehension. "I'd need more specifics, but generally? High-end stuff. Biometrics, maybe. Nothing impossible, but…" He trailed off, the implications clear.
Luke nodded, processing. The soldier in him was already formulating entry points, extraction routes. But another part of him, the part that still believed in order, in the system, railed against the very idea.
"We'd be leaving our civilian life behind," he said quietly, more to himself than the others. "If this goes sideways, there's no coming back."
"We're already past that point," Ahri countered, her voice soft but firm. "The moment we rescued Zeke, we made our choice. Now we see it through."
Luke met her blazing stare, seeing the passion there, the fierce warrior lurking within that had drawn him to her in the first place. He looked at each of them in turn – this makeshift team thrust into a conspiracy bigger than any of them.
"Alright," he said finally, the word feeling like a commitment he couldn't take back. "If we're doing this, we do it right. No half measures, no room for error." He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders despite the pain. "Ahri, make those calls. Brian, I want every scrap of intel you can dig up on that building. Zeke…" He paused, taking in the other man's battered state. "Get some rest. We're going to need you sharp."
As the group dispersed to their tasks, a grim energy filling the small apartment, Luke couldn't shake the feeling that they were stepping off a cliff into the unknown. The rules of engagement he'd lived by for so long seemed to blur and shift.
He moved to the window, staring out at the city skyline. Somewhere out there, a deadly secret waited. And they were about to walk right into the lion's den to get it.
"What the hell are we doing?" he muttered, his reflection in the glass looking as uncertain as he felt.
But he knew the answer. They were doing what needed to be done. Whatever the cost.
Two days later, they made their preparations.
The van's interior reeked of sweat and nervous energy. The cramped space amplified every shift and breath. Dim blue light from Brian's monitors cast eerie shadows across their faces. Outside, the hum of late-night traffic provided a constant backdrop. Luke's fingers traced the worn grip of his pistol as he ran through the plan one last time, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Brian, you're our eyes and ears. Anything goes sideways, you move to extract. No heroics. Zannah, you stick with him and act as spotter."
Brian nodded, his fingers hovering over an array of screens and gadgets. The soft glow illuminated the dark circles under his eyes, testament to sleepless nights of preparation. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple as he double-checked connections and feeds.
Zannah, meanwhile, nodded stoically. "I'll be on standby."
Luke turned to Zeke, still favoring his left side. "You sure you're up for this?"
Zeke's jaw clenched. "I got us into this mess. I'm seeing it through."
"Alright," Luke conceded, then addressed Ahri. "You're on point for the keycard access. Any hiccups—"
"I've got it covered," she cut in, eyes sharp with focus.
Luke nodded, a familiar pre-mission tension coiling in his gut. "Remember, we're ghosts. In and out. That sample is our only priority." He checked his watch. "Two minutes. Gear up."
He paused, scanning the faces of his team. "Let's go over this one last time. The sample's in a high-security lab on the fifteenth floor, northwest corner. Ahri's intel puts it in a biohazard containment unit, probably cryo-storage. We're talking cutting-edge security – retinal scanners, pressure-sensitive floors, the works."
Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!
Luke's fingers drummed against his thigh, a nervous tic he couldn't quite suppress. "Expect at least two armed guards outside the lab, maybe more inside. They'll be ex-military, not your average rent-a-cops. If we're lucky, we slip past them. If not..." He let the implication hang in the air.
"Once we're in, we've got a ten-minute window before the containment unit triggers an alarm. Brian, that's where you come in. You'll need to bypass their systems, give us some breathing room."
Brian nodded, his face pale but determined in the dim light of the van.
"And remember," Luke added, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, "if anything goes sideways, if you even think you've been made, abort. No heroics. This isn't just about us anymore."
The weight of his words settled over the team like a shroud. Outside, the city hummed, oblivious to the high-stakes drama unfolding in their midst.
"Alright," Luke said, checking his watch again. "Ninety seconds. Final gear check. Comms, weapons, tools. Triple-check everything."
As the team performed their last-minute preparations, Luke couldn't shake a gnawing feeling in his gut. They were walking into the unknown, armed with fragments of intelligence and a whole lot of desperation. But it was their only shot at unraveling this conspiracy before it was too late.
The van's interior pressed in on them, a pressure cooker of unspoken fears and the metallic tang of weaponry. Luke watched as Ahri meticulously checked her gear, her movements fluid and practiced. Zeke, still nursing bruised ribs, struggled to fasten his tactical vest. Brian's fingers flew over his laptop, triple-checking their digital infiltration routes. Zannah kept a vigilant eye on the outside world while idly shining her beretta with a soft cloth.
Luke's gaze drifted to the building plans spread across a makeshift table. The Redmington Tower loomed in his mind's eye, a fortress of glass and steel hiding deadly secrets. He traced potential entry points, escape routes, trying to anticipate every possible complication.
A cool breeze filtered through the van's cracked window, carrying the distant wail of sirens. It was a stark reminder of the world they were leaving behind – a world of rules and order that no longer seemed to apply.
They moved in silence, donning dark clothing and comms. Luke's hand brushed the pistol at his hip—a last resort he prayed they wouldn't need. The weight of it felt both comforting and damning.
"Thirty seconds," Brian murmured through the earpieces.
Luke met each of their eyes in turn. No stirring speeches, no false bravado. Just a shared nod of understanding. Whatever came next, they were in it together.
The van's door slid open with a muffled creak. Cool night air rushed in, carrying the sounds of distant traffic and the faint scent of rain-washed asphalt. Luke took point, his muscles taut as he led them into the shadows between flickering streetlights. The Redmington building loomed ahead, a monolith of glass and steel, its windows dark save for the occasional security light that winked like a distant star.
They moved in practiced formation, hugging the walls of adjacent structures. Luke's senses heightened to a painful acuity, every rustle of clothing and muffled footstep thunderous in his ears. The rough brick scraped against his back as they inched along, the team's breathing a barely audible chorus of apprehension.
A cab turned down the street, its headlights cutting through the darkness like searchlights. They froze as one, melting into doorways and alcoves. Luke pressed himself against a graffiti-covered wall, feeling the cold seep through his clothes. His hand instinctively tightened on his weapon, the metal warm against his palm. The cab's engine growled as it passed, seeming to stretch the moment into eternity. Only when its taillights disappeared around a corner did Luke dare to exhale.
He signaled the all-clear with a subtle hand gesture. As they resumed their approach, the weight of their mission settled over them like a shroud. The Redmington building grew larger with each step, its imposing facade a silent challenge to their audacious plan.
"Guards changing shift in two minutes," Brian's voice crackled in their earpieces. "Window's tight."
Luke signaled a halt as they reached the corner of the target building. He peered around, cataloging potential threats. A lone security camera swept back and forth, its red light blinking lazily.
"Now," he breathed, and they darted across the exposed space to the service entrance. Ahri stepped forward, producing the stolen keycard. A breathless moment as she swiped it, then—a soft beep. The door unlocked.
Luke eased it open, scanning the dimly lit interior. Empty. He ushered the team inside, heart pounding against his ribs.
The lobby stretched before them, all polished floors and sleek modernity. Moonlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the marble expanse. A front, Luke reminded himself, for something far uglier. They moved swiftly towards the elevators, footsteps muffled on the expensive carpeting that bore an intricate geometric pattern.
Brian's voice crackled in their earpieces. "Lobby camera's on a loop. We're clear for the next five minutes."
Luke nodded, grateful for the extra layer of security.
A sudden voice from around the corner sent them scrambling for cover. Luke pressed himself against a cool marble pillar, barely breathing as a night janitor shuffled past, oblivious to their presence. The janitor's keys jingled softly, each step on the hard floor echoing in the cavernous space.
As the footsteps faded, Luke caught Ahri's eye. She nodded, signaling the all-clear. They emerged from their hiding spots, hearts pounding. The elevator bank loomed ahead, its polished doors reflecting their tense expressions.
"Nice work with the camera, Brian," Luke whispered as they approached. "How much time do we have left?"
"Three minutes," came the terse reply. "Make it count."
Luke pressed the call button, acutely aware of how exposed they were. The soft ding of the arriving elevator seemed deafening in the quiet lobby. As the doors slid open with a whisper, he ushered his team inside, casting one last wary glance at the empty atrium before the doors closed, sealing them in.
Ahri produced another keycard, this one granting access to the restricted floors. As the doors slid shut behind them, Luke felt a shift in the air—no turning back now.
The elevator hummed as it ascended. Luke studied their reflections in the polished doors, a team of shadows on an impossible mission. He thought of the virus sample waiting above, of the lives at stake if they failed. The weight of it all threatened to crush him like a bug beneath a giant named burden.
But there was no room for doubt now. They had a job to do.
The elevator dinged softly. Fifteenth floor. Luke steadied himself, hand hovering near his weapon. "Remember," he whispered, a cautious edge coating his voice, "we're here for the sample. Nothing else. No heroics, no detours."
The doors opened, revealing a darkened corridor lined with identical doors. Somewhere in this maze of corporate anonymity lay their target—and quite possibly, their doom.
Luke took a deep breath, then stepped out into the corridor, leading with his gun. He scanned the long hallway on both sides for threats, his eyes narrowing as he tried to pierce the shadows. The dim light flickered intermittently, casting eerie patterns on the walls and amplifying the tension in the air.
"Where are the lights?" Ahri whispered, her voice tight with tension.
Luke froze, his body instantly coiled for action. The darkness wasn't just unusual—it was wrong. Every instinct screamed danger.
"Kill the chatter," he whispered, barely audible. His eyes strained against the gloom, picking out shapes in the shadows. A faint emergency light at the far end of the corridor cast everything in an eerie, blood-red glow. The effect was disorienting, turning familiar office fixtures into looming, alien forms.
He motioned for Ahri and Zeke to press against the wall, then tapped his ear. "Brian, what's our power situation?"
Static crackled in his earpiece. Brian's voice came through, tense and low. "Reading normal load on the grid. Whatever's going on up there, it's localized."
Luke's mind raced through possibilities. Maintenance? Unlikely at this hour. A trap? Possible, but why telegraph it with darkness? Or had they somehow tripped a silent alarm?
He signaled to Ahri and Zeke, a series of quick hand gestures. Stay low. Move slow. Watch my six.
As they inched down the corridor, Luke's senses went into overdrive. Every squeak of a shoe against the floor, every whisper of fabric against wall, thundered in his ears. His hand never left the grip of his pistol. An invisible weight pressed down, saturating the atmosphere with palpable unease. Each breath came as a deliberate effort, as if the very air resisted being drawn into lungs.
Luke's eyes darted to the offices lining the hallway. Through glass partitions, he caught glimpses of abandoned workstations, papers scattered across desks as if their occupants had left in a hurry. A coffee mug, its contents long cold, sat precariously close to the edge of one desk. The scene sent a chill down his spine – what had happened here?
A faint flicker of movement caught his eye. In one darkened office, a computer monitor blinked to life, casting an eerie blue glow across empty chairs. Luke tensed, but nothing else stirred. Just another ghost in this deserted labyrinth.
They pressed on, the silence broken only by their measured breaths and the soft rustle of clothing. Luke's muscles ached from the constant tension, every shadow a potential threat. The bitter smell of fear – his own, he realized – mingled with the sterile office air.
Halfway down the hall, a new sound. Faint, but unmistakable. Footsteps, coming from around the corner ahead.
Luke's breath caught in his throat, the cold air of the corridor transforming into icy daggers that pierced his lungs. The flickering emergency lights cast grotesque, dancing shadows on the walls, transforming the sterile office environment into a nightmarish funhouse.
A figure emerged from the shadows, shambling into view with jerky, unnatural movements. Luke's brain short-circuited, reality fracturing around him like shattered glass. Time seemed to stretch, seconds expanding into eternity as Luke's training warred with disbelief. The zombie—Jesus Christ, an actual zombie—shuffled forward, its movements jerky but purposeful. Its eyes, milky and unfocused, somehow held an unsettling intelligence.
A fucking zombie in a tattered, blood-stained lab coat. The absurdity of it clashed violently with the very real danger screaming through every nerve in his body.
The creature's face was a ruined mess of torn flesh and exposed muscle. One eye hung loosely from its socket, swaying with each lurching step. Its jaw worked mechanically, gnashing yellowed teeth that dripped with a viscous, dark fluid. The stench hit Luke like a physical blow – a nauseating cocktail of rot, chemicals, and something sickeningly sweet.
This was no costume, no drill. This was real, and it was here, mere feet away in a goddamn research facility they were infiltrating.
Behind him, he heard Ahri's sharp intake of breath and Zeke's muffled curse. The zombie's head snapped towards the sound, its remaining eye focusing with an unsettling clarity. A guttural moan escaped its lips, echoing down the corridor.
Luke's hand tightened on his weapon, the cool metal a stark contrast to his clammy skin. Training warred with disbelief as his mind raced through impossible scenarios. How? Why here? Was this connected to the sample they sought?
The zombie lurched forward, its arms outstretched. Strings of decaying flesh hung from its fingers, leaving a grisly trail on the polished floor. Luke's finger tensed on the trigger, knowing a headshot was their only chance. But even as he prepared to fire, a horrifying realization dawned – where there was one, there could be more.
The absurdity of it all threatened to overwhelm him. This was supposed to be a covert infiltration, not a scene from a horror movie. Yet here they were, facing down the impossible in a dimly lit corridor that reeked of death and antiseptic. The zombie – the thing that was once a person – shuffled closer, its labcoat tag swinging into view. Dr. Eliza Chen, it read, a mockery of the humanity it once possessed.
Luke pointed his Colt M1911 towards the mangled woman, muscle memory kicking in even as his mind reeled. He signaled frantically to Ahri and Zeke, an improvised gesture that conveyed nothing beyond "What the actual fuck?"
A hysterical thought bubbled up: Was this why the lights were out? Zombie power conservation?
Luke forced it down, years of training finally overriding shock. He had to act, had to protect his team from this impossible threat. But as he raised his weapon, something stopped him. The zombie wasn't attacking. It was… reaching for a keycard?
"Holy shit," he breathed, the realization hitting him like a freight train. This wasn't just a zombie. This was a researcher. An infected, undead researcher with enough cognitive function to use a security pass.
Whatever they'd stumbled into, it was so much bigger—and more terrifying—than they'd imagined. The sample they were after wasn't just a potential bioweapon. It was already active, already transforming people into something out of a nightmare.
Luke's mind raced, sweat beading on his forehead as the implications hit him like a sledgehammer. How widespread was this nightmarish infection? Was the entire floor a breeding ground for these shuffling horrors? The building? No, wait—he forced himself to think logically through the panic clawing at his chest. The janitor downstairs had been perfectly normal, and the guards were still at their posts. It must be isolated to this floor.
His gaze darted back to the zombie scientist, bile rising in his throat at the grotesque sight. The creature's skin hung in gray, mottled patches, sloughing off in places to reveal the glistening muscle beneath.
He turned to Ahri and Zeke, their faces gray in the dim light. "Change of plans," he whispered, voice tight with urgency. "We're not just here for a sample anymore. We need to know exactly what the fuck is going on."
Luke's mind whirled with possibilities. If the infection was contained here, that meant there was still a chance to stop it. But it also meant that whatever caused this transformation was right here, on this very floor. The sample they'd come for wasn't just a potential bioweapon—it was an active threat, already twisting human beings into these... sick people.
The zombie scientist shuffled closer, lab coat swaying with each uneven step. Luke steadied his aim, a grim determination settling over him. He wasn't going to fire unless he had to, not if this woman could still use reason.
The situation was so far beyond his training, beyond anything he'd ever imagined facing. But the zombie's purposeful movements, its attempt to use a keycard – there was a flicker of something almost human there.
He lowered his weapon slightly, not enough to leave himself defenseless, but enough to appear less threatening. His voice came out as a hoarse whisper, barely audible over the pounding of his own heart.
"Dr. Chen?" he ventured, eyes locked on the creature's milky gaze. "Can you understand me?"
The zombie's head twitched, a jerky motion that sent a rivulet of dark fluid trickling from its ruined eye socket. Its jaw worked, emitting a wet, gurgling sound that might have been an attempt at speech.
Luke felt Ahri and Zeke tense behind him, ready to act if this went sideways. He held up a hand, signaling them to wait. The air felt thick, charged with an impossible tension.
"We're here to help," Luke continued, fighting to keep his voice steady. "What happened here? What did this to you?"
The zombie scientist lurched forward, its arms outstretched. Luke's finger tightened on the trigger, every instinct screaming at him to fire. But something in the creature's movements gave him pause. It wasn't attacking – it was reaching for something on a nearby desk.
With trembling fingers, the zombie grasped a pen and began to scratch clumsily at a notepad. Luke watched, transfixed, as misshapen letters slowly took form.
S-A-M-P-L-E
"Jesus Christ," Zeke muttered behind him.
Luke's throat constricted, his mouth suddenly dry as sandpaper. The implications were staggering. Not only was this… person still capable of communication, but they seemed to understand why the team was here.
"The sample did this to you?" Luke asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
The zombie's head bobbed in a grotesque nod, strings of decaying flesh swaying with the motion. It scratched out another word:
D-A-N-G-E-R
Luke felt a chill run down his spine. They'd known the sample was potentially deadly, but this… this was beyond anything they'd imagined. He glanced at Ahri, saw the same mix of horror and disgust mirrored in her eyes.
"We need to contain this," Luke said, his voice steadier than he felt. "Dr. Chen, can you show us where the sample is?"
The zombie scientist shuffled towards a door at the end of the hallway, its movements jerky but purposeful. As they followed, Luke couldn't shake the surreal nature of the situation. Here they were, infiltrators turned potential saviors, being led by the very embodiment of what they'd come to prevent.
The potential consequences cascaded through Luke's mind. If the infection was isolated to this floor, there was still hope of containment. But if it had spread further, if there were other facilities… The thought made his blood run cold.
As they approached the lab door, Luke hardened his heart for whatever horrors lay beyond. The stench of decay grew stronger, mingling with the sharp tang of disinfectant. An unnatural silence blanketed the corridor, broken only by their own shallow breathing and the faint hum of equipment.
"Alright team," he whispered, his voice strained like a fraying rope. "We're about to step into the Lion's Den. Stay sharp, stay close, and for God's sake, don't touch anything."
The zombie scientist raised its keycard to the door's sensor. As the lock beeped and the door began to slide open, Luke felt as if a cold, invisible hand had gripped his spine, a premonition that they were crossing a threshold into a nightmare from which there might be no return.