Everyone does their best and tries to stay calm. And it is working. No one has lashed out yet.

Suddenly, a woman falls over. Her arms begin twitching.

People stand up and shift back rapidly, emptying out a circle around her. The nurse fills in the circle, with a thermometer in her hand, and a doctor with a stethoscope. "She's burning up," Says a nurse with a thermometer in the woman's limply open mouth, which she holds closed. "How's her pulse?" Asks the nurse. The doctor stays silent, still adjusting the stethoscope.

"Hmm?" The nurse insists for an answer. "I-I don't hear one..." He says. In disbelief, the nurse confirms for him. "How is that possible?" She wonders.

They hear a bone crunch all of a sudden. And at that moment, they slowly start to back away from the woman.

She begins making gurgling sounds as she wakes up. Slowly, she places her hand next to her chest and faces her elbow up. She pushes to slowly get up. Every bone in her body cracks as it moves. Her hair begins peeling off with just the wind. The thermometer begins beeping just as she opens her mouth. It falls down, reading '136' in Fahrenheit. And suddenly, she opens her eyes. Her pupils turn to a pale yellow and begin blending in with the white around them. She then lunges into the crowd, just as everyone begins scattering. The woman takes a bite out of the nurse's face. Everyone hears her bite right through the bone. One sickening, chilling crunch.

A man rams through the window and makes a run for it. The rest of the people follow.

Deacon and Stan follow along. As soon as they leave the hospital building, they hear gunshots. Deacon catches a glimpse of where the gunshots come from. People from the army, in army uniform sit atop rooftops of buildings, waving a rifle, shooting anyone that is seen outside.

Stan tries to stop and look, but Deacon grabs his hand and runs for the construction site opposite the street. On the street, a child stands, crying out to her mom, who chose to save herself. Stan then grabs her hand and drags her along with him and Deacon to the other side. Bodies fall down with the rain. Four people at a time begin hitting the floor. As the street slowly stains itself in maroon.

Ten meters feel like a mile, and they reach the construction site. They enter and climb all the way up to the top floor. Deacon left Stan's hand on the way up the stairs.

He stands on the top floor. Slowing down, he takes big breaths. He looks out the window. A view of downtown Braukensberg stained by a blinding orange cloud of flame and smoke, blowing up the main tower. In slow motion, the top half of the tower begins tipping over, right before slipping off the bottom half.

A woman climbs up the stairs, scared for her life as everyone else. She looks at Deacon and grabs his arm to pull him away from the window. "Do you have a bloody deathwish?! Stop standing at the windows. They will shoot."

Deacon looks at her and decides she is right. Before expressing it, he asks, "Who are you?"

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With hesitant eyes, she looks at him. Her eyes are light brown, with her purple-dyed hair flowing down in one curve till her shoulder, where it is cut unevenly, yet magnificently. Her face is partially lit by the explosions visible through the window.

"None of your business. We will forget each other after this anyway. Introductions will be a waste of time." She replies, coldly.

He steps away from the window.

They stand there silent, waiting for the gunshots to stop. Suddenly, they hear footsteps coming up the stairs.

They are slow and heavy. "Deacon! Some help here!" Stan's voice calls out.

He gets up and runs towards Stan. "Take this!" He exclaims, handing over a blood-covered rifle.

His other hand occupied in carrying a little girl in his arm, leaning her against his chest, covering her with his coat. Without asking why, Deacon takes it and leads them both to the top.

"What the fuck? Where did you get that rifle from? Why is it covered in blood?" Asks the woman before they sit down.

"J-just give me a minute." Stan hisses out, breathing in and out heavily.

"Well, I am sorry." She pauses, and pulls out a pistol and points it at Stan. Stan looks up and doesn't panic. Instead, he holds his coat, and pulls it off.

Deacon and the woman freeze at the sight of a young girl in his lap... she looks ten years old. Tied up blonde hair in a pink and blue hairband. She looks like a sweet, normal girl. The one thing off is, a bullet hole replacing an eye. Through it, they can see the concrete floor. She lay there, limp, lifeless, but still warm.

Stan warms her with his body heat. Hence, the coat to cover her.

"This gun belongs to the one who shot her. See, I went to the roof with her. I took the rifle from him while he wasn't looking and... and... I flattened his fucking head with the back of his own rifle." Stan explains.

Stunned, the woman drops her gun.

Before anything else could happen, they hear voices on the stairs. "You take the top floor. Leave no survivors."

The voice is followed by heavy and fast footsteps. Suddenly, an armoured figure emerges from the staircase, wielding an assault rifle. Stan, seated on the floor, points his service weapon towards the figure. The woman does the same as she picks up her gun. Deacon, points the rifle at it. A woman's voice calls out from behind the gas mask, "Don't make this hard. Drop your weapons."

They don't. All stand still.

"We have a situation here, bring backup." She calls into her radio, over her shoulder.

A few seconds later, four more figures emerge, dripped in Kevlar.

"On my count, open fire," says the woman. Panicked, they stay where they are. Anticipating being ripped apart, "Three-..." The counting begins. Stan feels a wave of slight heat wash over his sides. "...Two-..." The heat gets stronger.

She stops counting.

The trio drop their weapons. "There we go." Says the voice behind the mask.

She turns off her safety and points the gun at Deacon's head. In a shocked response, he covers his face with his arms. Suddenly, his arms catch fire.

Everything is silenced as a cloud of flame explodes out from Deacon's arm, forwards. The flame keeps getting shot out, as if it were from a flamethrower. It isn't orange or yellow. It's blindingly white. All Deacon hears is his own heartbeat.

He shouts and makes the flames even more intense. As soon as he smells burnt steak, she stops.

The flames die down to reveal charred bodies wrapped in molten Kevlar, as they sizzle. Blood boiling, foams out of their charred charcoal-like skin with a sicken pinkish-brown colour. All but one gun is molten.

His eyes jump around the scene. Body to body, wall to wall. Not in guilt, but in search of any signs of life, ready to squeeze it all out.

Bodies on the floor burning. Sparks leaving them as their fingers twitch. Their vocal cords clicking, as the try to scream. Their lungs hissing as they try to breathe.

Agony is what engulfs them. Agony is what Deacon gave to them.

He turns to face the mysterious woman. "Once again, who are you?" He asks, looking down at her as his clothes are on fire and arms in a blinding-white flame, illuminating the entire room.

"J-J-Jane. I-I'm Jane Maxwell."