The alarm died down and the urban fringe turned silent.
From the rooftops near the bank, a storm slowly brewed.
The warlord surveyed the swarm of zombies. His hands trembled, steam rolling off his head.
"If you weren't so useful to me," he turned to Yunera, "you'd be dead right now—by my fists, or their claws."
Yunera held her head down, clenching the katana's hilt.
"I entrusted that katana to you. Now, it's nothing but scrap. You disappoint me, Yunera."
"Boss," Yunera gripped her hand, "the enemy was too powerful. I couldn't—"
"Enough." he raised his hand, "Being weak has no excuses, nor will it change what happened."
The warlord swept past her, shaking his head.
A battered corpse sprawled on the concrete. He knelt and gently touched its chin.
"Whoever did this to you," he said, "they will pay a heavy price."
The entire group solemnly stood on the sides, hiding the fear from their faces.
The air suddenly stilled, suffocating their heaving lungs.
The warlord rose.
