Victor's P.O.V.
The military command center had never been this loud.
Telephones rang without pause.
Radios crackled over one another.
Officers barked orders across the room while satellite feeds flickered on enormous monitors lining the walls.
No one sat down.
No one had time.
Victor stood before one of the screens, arms folded across his chest as footage from the city's downtown played repeatedly.
Traffic accidents.
Riots.
People attacking one another.
At first, everyone assumed it was terrorism.
Then drugs.
Then mass hysteria.
None of those explanations lasted very long.
"...Run that footage again." Victor ordered.
The technician obeyed.
A man lay motionless on the pavement.
Three officers cautiously approached him.
The body suddenly sat upright.
Within seconds...
It lunged.
Victor frowned.
"...Pause."
The image froze.
The man's shoulder bent at an unnatural angle.
His neck twisted far beyond what should have been possible.
Blood covered half his face.
