Breaking News. Yesterday, the President of Rannia was assassinated. He was gunned down in front of the State House. NTC medics were unable to save him. He died at the age of 39.

"- Heard the news? Our president's been murdered." A petite girl with raven hair, tipped with emerald green, sat perched on a chair before the flickering television screen.

"- Aye, aye, serves him right," grumbled an elderly man sprawled on the adjacent sofa, pipe clenched firmly between his teeth. "Shouldn't have been gallivanting about so late at night, wouldn't have been shot."

"- Grandpa," she chirped, turning to face him with a smile.

"- What is it, my dear?" The old man roused himself from his recumbent position, shaking his head.

"- What shall we have for supper?"

"- Anything you fancy, my dear. Just as long as you eat your fill," he rasped.

"- Alright, Grandpa, I'll whip something up."

The girl, Gerda, rose from her chair and exited the room, her grandfather's voice trailing after her: "- Gerda, don't go overboard with the sugar."

"- I won't."

Gerda had always been of diminutive stature, her health frail since childhood. She was a constant help to her grandfather, her parents having vanished without a trace, leaving her in his care. A military man by profession, her grandfather cherished his granddaughter above all else. Now, in his twilight years, his age was beginning to take its toll. They resided in a modest two-room apartment, devoid of technological marvels, save for a radio receiver – a newfangled model with the ability to scan channels and capture signals, a memento from his service in the Military Radio Communications.

Gerda stood a mere 147 centimeters tall, a few days shy of her sixteenth birthday.

She entered the kitchen, a picture of orderliness. The waning sun cast a warm glow through the window. Taking a carton of eggs, she extracted two and retrieved a frying pan from the top shelf. Beside the gas stove stood a gas cylinder. Gerda reached for the valve and gave it a slight twist, releasing a slow stream of gas into the stove. Striking a match, she ignited the burner, the flame settling at a moderate intensity. Cracking the eggs over the pan, she watched as the yolk and albumen sizzled. A loaf of bread hung from a nail on the wall. She sliced off a thin piece, followed by a thicker one, devouring the smaller portion without delay. Placing the larger slice on a plate retrieved from the top shelf, she spread it with honey and butter. The butter crackled in the pan. Wrapping her hand in a towel, she cautiously lifted the lid and removed the cooked eggs with a spatula, placing them alongside the bread.

"- Grandpa, supper's ready!" she called out, her voice echoing through the apartment.

Heavy footsteps announced her grandfather's approach as he slowly emerged from the living room and shuffled towards the kitchen. The sunset painted the sky in breathtaking hues, rivaling the sun itself. Gerda felt a surge of happiness in that moment.

Her grandfather entered the kitchen and was about to take his seat beside her when a blinding flash erupted from the window.

A brilliant flash, followed by an intense luminescence that gradually faded, revealing a sphere in the sky. It was a fiery red, like a molten orb. A dome formed around it, accompanied by thick smoke. The dome rapidly expanded, unleashing a shockwave.

Inside the apartment, the sudden light caused the grandfather to squint. Gerda, who had been looking at him, only saw the fiery sphere, missing the initial flash.

"- My dear, you forgot the tea!" her grandfather grumbled.

"- Oh, I'm sorry, it'll be ready in a jiffy."

Gerda took mugs from the shelf and poured the tea, adding three spoonfuls of sugar to her grandfather's cup before sliding it towards him.

He slowly settled onto the chair beside her and began to sip his tea. It was hot and sweet, his favorite beverage. He reached for the bread with honey and butter when a tremor shook the table. He didn't flinch or alarm his granddaughter. Taking the bread, he began to eat, washing it down with tea.

Having finished his meal, he pushed his mug away. He sat motionless, lost in thought, his old mind grappling with the unfolding events. He pondered the present, the future, and how to protect his granddaughter, how to shield her from harm. A minute of complete silence ensued, broken only by his slow, labored utterance: "It's time." The words held no particular meaning, merely his final farewell.

As the words left his lips, the windowpanes cracked. He grabbed Gerda's hand and pulled her close, embracing her tightly. Turning his back to the window, he crouched down. The glass shattered under the force of the blast, shards raining down on him. Gerda's gaze was fixed forward, unable to witness his final moments.

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An explosion. Gerda squeezed her eyes shut, unable to see but acutely aware of the cacophony of crashing and rumbling. Shattered glass cascaded from the window.

The city's structures crumbled into oblivion, collapsing like dominoes, each with its own devastating effects. Buildings imploded, and in that instant, Gerda fell sideways into her grandfather's embrace, buried beneath a mountain of steel debris.

She lay nestled in his warm embrace, his blood still coursing through his veins, providing a fleeting warmth. Within minutes, the ground began to heat up. The temperature beneath the rubble wasn't unbearable, but it was palpable. Gerda snuggled closer to her grandfather, seeking solace in his presence.

Darkness enveloped her. The debris provided excellent sound insulation, but the rumbling and gusts of wind were still audible. Gerda drifted off to sleep in her grandfather's arms. Time slipped away unnoticed, and she eventually awoke, still trapped beneath the debris. But it was no longer debris, but rather charred remnants, leaving only a small opening. Her grandfather's grip had loosened, no longer holding her as tightly. The ground had cooled, becoming refreshingly cold.

Gerda slowly opened her eyes, a chill coursing through her body. Her grandfather's body was equally cold. They were confined to a small space, unable to move freely, only their hands able to maneuver. Gerda pressed against a remaining steel fragment, and it easily buckled and disintegrated, collapsing like sand. The entire obstruction crumbled, revealing a blinding light at the exit.

Before her stood a girl, holding a luminous object resembling a ball. She wore a tight black belt and bra, beneath which peeked a vibrant clown uniform. A long rail and a large bag adorned her back.

Rainbow-colored goggles framed her eyes, and an RPG-67 respirator covered her face. Her hands were encased in gloves woven with steel threads, devoid of any patterns or embellishments.

The girl directed the light at Gerda's face, then at her grandfather's. Reaching for a button near her neck, she spoke into a radio with a sardonic tone: "- One survivor here! Over."

The radio crackled in response: "- She's not infected! Over."

"- She's not infected! Over."

Hearing them speak in the singular, Gerda panicked.

"- I'm, I'm, I'm not alone, I'm with my grandfather, grandfather, do you hear, I'm with my grandfather."

The girl crouched down like a street thug, radio in one hand. With the other, she lifted Gerda's chin and replied with a smirk: "- Your grandfather is dead, you can stop pretending you're not alone!"

The word "dead" reverberated through Gerda's ears. She uttered a single word and began to repeat it: "No!"

The radio crackled again: "- Bring her to us! Over."

"- Alright! We'll be there shortly! Over."

"- We await your arrival! Over."

The girl reached for Gerda, who was still repeating "No!" She noticed the burns on Gerda's face were rapidly spreading. Gerda stopped repeating the word and began to writhe, as if consumed by a searing heat, desperate to escape into the void. The girl hesitated, then grabbed Gerda by the scruff of her neck. Squeezing the luminous sphere, she vanished in an instant.

Mig City, on the outskirts of Eskwyre. Deltatron Security Zone 109. Sector V. Ward 5.

The girl materialized in the center of the ward, approaching an empty bed and laying Gerda down. With a wave of her hand, a large, transparent interface resembling an SMRUHD screen appeared before Gerda's face, displaying the words "INFECTED PROTECTION SYSTEM."

She tapped on the interface, and a holographic chest materialized beside it. Opening it, she retrieved a syringe with a long needle, placing the luminous sphere on a stool next to the bed.

"- Well, let's get you treated. Haha," she chuckled, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

She tapped the interface again, this time retrieving a vial filled with a clear liquid.

"- What is that?" Gerda asked.

"- Oh, you're awake. It's a sedative to help you reach the Apila exit," she explained, filling the syringe and bringing it towards Gerda's arm, her thumb resting on the plunger. "- It'll only hurt at first, then you'll fall asleep!"

She pressed the plunger, and the white liquid flowed through the needle and into Gerda's veins. Gerda began to convulse violently. The girl turned, grabbed the luminous sphere, squeezed it, and disappeared.

On another bed in the ward lay a boy with similar burns, observing the scene. After the girl vanished, he stared at the ceiling, muttering to himself.

The convulsions continued for 5-10 minutes. Gerda's burns intensified, and blood gushed from her ears, nose, eyes, and mouth, continuing until the convulsions subsided. Her body lay motionless. The doctor, a nurse, and an orderly reappeared in the center of the room, approaching Gerda and checking her pulse.

"- No pulse, that's not good," the doctor remarked.

"- Well, one less to worry about," the orderly commented.

"- May the Lord be with you, amen," the nurse prayed.

The doctor leaned closer to Gerda, intending to lift her, when he noticed the burns had vanished, replaced by other symptoms. Her pulse quickened, and her heartbeat became faster than that of a normal human. Beneath the thick blood on her face, changes were visible. Her pupils had altered, her teeth sharpened into fangs, and her ears resembled those of a feline. Before anyone noticed she was alive, the doctor sliced the air above the bed with his hand. A large black sheet materialized, covering Gerda.

"- What the hell, Gardy Alinsberg, what are you doing?" the nurse questioned.

"- None of your damn business, Billagi! Prepare the morgue with Rogi!" the doctor snapped, his voice laced with agitation.

Leaning on the sheet covering Gerda, Gardy felt the weight beneath it lessen and lost his balance, falling onto his back. Flustered and agitated, he scrambled to his feet and ripped the sheet off the bed. Only a pool of blood remained.

"- Where, where is she?" Gardy panicked, his voice rising in hysteria.

He tossed the bed aside and frantically searched the room, overturning everything in his path. He found nothing. Meanwhile, Billagi and Rogi observed him, deciding to report the incident to the commander. Like all medical personnel, they carried instruments and bags. Each had a small pouch with several pockets on their belts. Both retrieved a luminous sphere from their pouches and squeezed them tightly, vanishing from the room. Only the patient and Dr. Gardy Alinsberg remained.