Hana crouched behind the rusted shell of an overturned truck. The air is thick with smoke and the metallic tang of decay.
The infected wandered the streets in slow, staggering patterns—they were once human, but are now warped by radiation and whatever else the apocalypse had stirred awake. Their skin was mottled, cracked, and tinted in shades of red and rust, as if the world had tried to repaint them in its own dying colors.
Hana dipped her fingers into the bucket beside her. The paint was cold, sticky, and a deep, unsettling crimson. She smeared it across her arms, her neck, her cheeks. It dried quickly, leaving her skin tight and warm.
She looked like one of them now.
Not perfect—she still moved too smoothly, breathed too evenly—but close enough. Close enough to slip through the cracks.
Close enough to get inside.
She wiped her hands on her pants and stood. The glow beneath her skin dimmed as she forced her power down, burying it under layers of focus and adrenaline. She couldn't afford to shine right now. Not here.
Not when she was walking straight into the lion's den.
The "safe zones" were anything but safe.
They were fortresses built by the same people who had let the world rot long before the apocalypse. Politicians, corporate giants, military leaders—anyone with enough money or influence to buy their way into survival. They had sealed themselves behind steel walls and armed checkpoints, hoarding supplies while the rest of humanity choked on ash.
And even now, with the world ending around them, they still found ways to be evil.
Hana slipped into the flow, mimicking their slow, dragging gait. The group shambled toward the perimeter fence, where guards in hazmat suits prodded them with long metal poles, herding them like livestock. The infected didn't react. They never did.
Hana kept her head down.
One guard muttered, "Another batch. Dump them in Sector C."
Sector C. She'd heard rumors. Experiments. Harvesting. Disappearances.
She clenched her jaw and forced herself to stay limp, vacant, empty.
Just another walking red‑painted corpse.
The gates opened with a hydraulic hiss. Hana shuffled forward with the others, her heart pounding. The moment she crossed the threshold, the air changed—cleaner, colder, filtered. The ground beneath her boots shifted from cracked asphalt to polished concrete.
Inside, the world looked disturbingly intact.
Lights hummed overhead. Machines beeped. People in pristine uniforms walked briskly between buildings, carrying tablets and clipboards as if the apocalypse were nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
Hana's stomach twisted.
Even now. Even after everything. They still pretend they're above it all.
She drifted toward the shadows, peeling away from the infected herd as they were funneled into a large warehouse. No one noticed her slip out. No one ever looked too closely at the infected.
That was their mistake.
Hana pressed herself against a wall, listening. Voices echoed from a nearby corridor—sharp, clipped, authoritative.
"…production numbers are down. We need more bodies."
"Then sweep the outer districts again. The infected are easy to gather."
"And the uninfected?"
A pause.
"Use force if necessary."
Hana's blood boiled. She felt her radioactivity stir, rising like a tide. Her fingertips tingled. The air around her warmed.
She closed her eyes and breathed.
Not yet. Not here. Not until I know everything.
She slipped deeper into the facility, moving with practiced stealth. It felt almost nostalgic—breaking in, scouting, gathering intel. Like the old days, when she'd infiltrated government buildings and corporate labs, exposing corruption one stolen file at a time.
Except now, the stakes were higher.
Now, she wasn't just fighting for justice.
She was fighting for the scraps of humanity left in this broken world.
She reached a balcony overlooking the warehouse. Below, the infected were being sorted—some dragged to examination tables, others shoved into containment cells. Scientists scribbled notes while guards barked orders.
Hana grit her teeth.
Even in an apocalypse, evil people still do evil things.
She leaned forward, eyes narrowing.
This wasn't just survival.
This was exploitation. Control. Power.
The same old world, rebuilt on the same rotten foundation.
Hana exhaled slowly. The glow beneath her skin brightened, pulsing with purpose.
If they wanted to keep their empire standing…
They'd have to get through her first.