Iris picked up the remote and switched on the TV. The room filled with static for a moment before the news channel came into focus. The anchor sat in front of the camera with tired eyes and smudged makeup, her voice steady but heavy.
"As of this morning, our government has not released an official statement on the president's status. Sources report the presidential office was struck during the impact. Whether the vice president will take over remains unclear, as no direct communication has been established."
The screen cut away. Footage rolled.
Cities in ruins.
Highways split open, twisted like broken bones.
Airports reduced to smoldering craters.
"Internationally," the anchor continued, "governments across the world are declaring states of emergency following widespread meteor impacts."
A digital map appeared, dotted with glowing red markers.
"Tsunamis have hit several coastal regions. Thousands are missing. Relief efforts are underway, but most major powers are now prioritizing their own cities."
She paused and swallowed, as if the next lines were harder to say.
"Negotiations between nations have collapsed. Countries are accusing one another of withholding aid and resources. Some governments have shut their borders entirely."
Bryan pressed his palms to his head and dragged his fingers through his hair. "Of course. Every man for himself now."
No one replied. The room stayed quiet except for the TV. Thomas leaned back on the sofa, his eyes on the screen but unfocused, like the words weren't really reaching him.
The anchor touched her earpiece, her voice suddenly tighter. "This just in."
She glanced down at her notes. "Authorities have confirmed the appearance of an unusual pink fog near several meteor crash sites. Early tests show no immediate danger to those nearby, but scientists are urging extreme caution."
The camera zoomed closer. She gripped the desk with both hands.
"The pink fog is reportedly growing thicker and spreading in some areas. Citizens are advised to stay clear of all fog-affected zones while research teams continue their investigation. Please remain calm and follow local safety protocols."
Elsewhere, in Ironwill, the last functioning city in District 40, chaos gripped the local government office.
"We need more barricades on the west side. The fog is coming in faster than expected." The deputy mayor stood over a battered table, pointing at a map covered in handwritten notes and taped updates.
Sweat ran down his temples. "Where is our supply update? Three of the shelters are already running low on food."
The front doors slammed open. A dozen figures rushed in, men and women in mismatched body armor, carrying baseball bats, knives, and stolen rifles. Their leader, a bald man with a jagged scar cutting down one cheek, tossed a bloodstained vest onto the floor.
"Meeting is over. Red Hands is in charge now."
The deputy mayor blinked. "What are you talking about? We are coordinating relief efforts."
"Yeah, and doing a garbage job." The scarred man waved the words away. "People are starving. Streets are chaos. Half your security ran the second the fog hit the gates. Your control is gone. We are stepping in."
Two of his crew grabbed the deputy mayor by the arms and yanked him out of his chair.
"You cannot do this," he shouted, trying to pull free. "You do not have the authority."
"We do not need it," the scarred man said. "We have the guns."
By nightfall, the Red Hands had seized the city. They stripped food from warehouses, emptied the armory, and blocked every road in and out of Ironwill. The last scraps of law enforcement either switched sides or vanished. Anyone who wanted food, shelter, or protection had to swear loyalty. Those who refused were pushed back into the pink fog.
The Red Hands were an underground group already labeled a terrorist organization in Gaur Country before the meteors. The vice president faced impeachment for ties to them. With the government struggling to restore order, they made their move.
In the building turned base, the four of them sat on the sofa, the quiet of the room shielding them from the chaos playing out beyond the walls. The television carried it all, one grim report after another.
The reporter's voice was steadier now, though the weight in her tone had not eased.
"International organizations are struggling to control what few resources remain. Major criminal groups have seized several key supply routes. Early attempts at global coordination have collapsed."
The screen shifted to raw footage. Relief trucks swarmed by armed men on empty highways. Food warehouses broken into by desperate looters. Soldiers shouting at one another across tense borders, rifles raised, while civilians ran screaming through the crossfire.
"In Eagle Nation, multiple states have declared independence from the federal government. On the Oldlands continent, borders are closing, and several countries are threatening military action against their neighbors."
She paused to glance at her notes before continuing.
"Bearland Country, Dragon State, and the Crown Isles have all officially withdrawn from joint relief operations."
On the sofa, Thomas reached for a snack and popped the wrapper open. The sound was loud in the quiet room. He leaned back casually, chewing while the anchor spoke of nations breaking apart. To him, there was nothing they could do about the world outside. Better to stay put and be thankful they were not in those situations.
Bryan stared at him, baffled at first, as if Thomas had completely missed the mood. But after a moment, his hand drifted toward the chips as well. Iris hesitated, then picked some up, and Nevin followed right after.
The television carried on with disaster after disaster, but inside that room, the crunch of snacks filled the silence.
The TV kept running, its glow the only light in the room. The reporter's voice came through the stream, sharper now, almost frantic.
"You're watching HKM News. I'm Elaine Myre, and we've just received new information about the pink fog. It's spreading faster than initial estimates. It is now confirmed in over seventy percent of urban areas."
She glanced off-screen as someone slipped a paper into her hand. Her face went pale, but she forced herself to keep speaking.
"Scientists are still struggling to understand its properties, but here's what we do know."
She paused, steadying her voice, then continued.
"One observation stands out. The pink fog appears to be rejected or deflected by meteor fragments. It cannot enter within the radius of these fragments. Areas around the impact sites are forming what experts are calling Safe Zones, localized barriers where the fog cannot penetrate. If you are near a crash site, stay inside the protected perimeter. Do not leave unless absolutely necessary."
Her eyes flicked back to the camera, wide and unblinking.
"For everyone else... please remain calm. Authorities are doing everything they can."
Iris could not sit still any longer. She pushed herself up from the sofa and went to the window. Pulling the blinds aside just enough, she caught her breath. The pink fog was out there, exactly as the reporter described. It rolled between the ruins, thick and heavy, yet it never crossed a certain point.
A meteor had crashed just above their floor, and around it stretched a perfect circle. The fog stopped cold at its edge, leaving their building in the center of a wide bubble of clear air.
The others came to the window and looked out with her. The city was still drowning in chaos. Flames climbed broken buildings, and columns of smoke twisted into the sky. People ran in every direction with no place to go. Sirens wailed as ambulances and police cars tried to cut through the mess, and soldiers moved in lines that looked too thin for the scale of destruction. Even with all their effort, the city was unraveling faster than they could hold it together. Their building, like many others, had not received any help at all.
Then, almost on cue, an ambulance turned onto the street below and rolled toward their tower. Thomas's eyes narrowed. He remembered it instantly. This was the ambulance from his bangungot. The one that killed him. Now, watching from the sixteenth floor, he knew there was no way it could reach him this time.
The vehicle slowed, lingering at the base of the building. The crew looked up at the higher floors, hesitating. No flames, no movement. Nothing to suggest anyone was inside. The first five floors had their anti-thief locks sealed tight, another sign that the office had already been cleared out and abandoned. After a short wait, the ambulance pulled away, vanishing back into the chaos.
The four exchanged a brief look, then let the blinds fall shut again. None of them wanted to risk being seen. Supplies were all they had, and outside, desperation was tearing the city apart. Bryan's words echoed in the silence. Every man for himself.
It was a long night. Their phones buzzed again and again with alerts, each one another disaster. After the meteors came fires, tsunamis, and earthquakes. Now the pink fog, thickening by the minute, made things worse. Visibility on the streets had dropped to almost zero, and the news reported accident after accident as vehicles collided in the haze. The broadcast seemed endless, one grim headline after another.
Later, the four of them cooked a simple dinner. Iris added a handful of fresh vegetables they had gathered from the fifteenth floor, mixing them into two cans of tuna. They ate with surprising appetite. Maybe it was the stress, maybe the rush of surviving the day, maybe the effort of hauling everything to their base. Or maybe it was simply the knowledge that they would need every bit of strength for what was coming.
Surprisingly, they slept well. Bryan and Nevin took the room, Thomas spread out a futon in the receiving area, and Iris curled up on the sofa. They had offered her space on the bed earlier, but she refused. The bed could fit two, but with her there, no one else would join. With only one room to share, it made more sense this way.
The futon had been placed after moving some chairs aside. Iris never said it aloud, but everyone understood. In times like this, being alone was harder than anything. Their arrangement left two in the room and two in the receiving area, close enough that none of them had to face the dark by themselves.
When morning came, the world outside had changed again. The pink fog that had blanketed the city yesterday was even thicker now, so heavy they could no longer see what lay beneath it from the sixteenth floor.
What they did see were more people gathering near their building. Some seemed to be following the news, drawn toward the safety of the meteor's protection. Others were coming in and out of the pink fog, some dragging bags or crates, likely scavenging for whatever supplies they could still find.