The night hung heavy over Amsterdam. Black, radioactive clouds choked the city. Ambulance sirens cut through the silence like rusty knives. Hospitals overflowed; corridors cramped with the sick.
Dr. Daisy screamed:
"Hurry! This man is losing too much blood!"
Sweat slicked her mask, hands trembling—but she pressed on. Behind her, the screams never stopped.
Suddenly… the bed shuddered. The dying boy's eyes snapped open. They glowed like molten embers.
His body lifted from the bed. Machines around him exploded in a shower of sparks. Nurses screamed and bolted. Daisy froze, heart hammering. Then she lifted a hand:
"Calm down… you're not alone."
He screamed—a sound that ripped through the hall. Daisy clamped her hands over her ears and ducked under the bed. Windows shattered. Glass exploded outward.
Then, silence. The boy collapsed onto the bed, lifeless.
Daisy gasped, trying to find a pulse. Nothing.
Footsteps pounded in the corridors. Slowly, she rose and peeked outside. Carnage. Blood. Chaos. Mutants tore through doctors and patients alike. Humans screamed, twisted, and fell.
Fear gripped Daisy. Her pulse raced. Breath came fast. She ran blindly, turning a corner—only to face a mutant devouring a corpse. It snarled and fixed its glowing eyes on her.
A supply closet. She slipped inside, slammed the door, and crouched in the corner, clutching her head, trembling.
Outside, the streets boiled.
Thousands of masked protesters filled the squares before the hospital, encircled by the army. They shouted:
"No more mutants!"
"Bring back a clean city!"
Soldiers formed a steel ring. Tear gas turned the air into smoke.
A journalist broadcast live:
"Fear grips the city… Amsterdam could be the next face of ruin…"
Before he could finish, hospital windows exploded. Infected surged out, followed by mutants and half-transformed humans.
Soldiers fired. The infected crashed into them, spilling into the crowds. Chaos erupted—screams, gunfire, explosions.
Daisy, still in the supply room, finally noticed silence. Slowly, she stepped into the corridor. Quiet. Eerie.
She raced toward the stairs and began descending. Before she could reach the exit, soldiers' flashlights pinned her.
"Get on the ground!"
"Hands above your head!"
They grabbed her, pulling her along. The city outside was a warzone—smoldering ruins, fires, tanks, helicopters, alarms. A loudspeaker boomed:
"All civilians must remain indoors!"
Bodies of humans and mutants littered the streets. Blood mingled with wreckage.
She was brought before a massive military vehicle. Detainees were scanned with handheld "bio-scanners." Green meant clear. Red meant infected.
One by one, people were sorted. Then it was Daisy's turn.
"Next!"
Her steps slowed, her pulse loud in her ears. The scanner glowed red. Blaring. "INFECTED! INFECTED!"
"What?!" she gasped.
Two soldiers seized her arms and dragged her inside the vehicle, jammed with the other infected.
The vehicle rumbled toward an unknown destination.
Above, a helicopter was suddenly hit by a glowing purple sphere—it crashed in a fireball. Moments later, another helicopter went down.
The driver grabbed the radio:
"We're under attack! Repeat! We're under attack!"
Suddenly, a man appeared in the middle of the road, bound in chains from afar. Someone dropped from the sky onto a nearby vehicle—a hammer in hand, clad in a green-and-black semi-military suit.
A black-orange flash streaked past another vehicle, striking a wheel. It flipped.
Daisy's vehicle honked, the driver yelling through the loudspeaker:
"Get out of the way immediately!"
The man spread his arms. The driver slammed the accelerator. The truck hit him—and it was like crashing into a wall of solid stone. The driver died instantly. His assistant was mangled.
Inside, Daisy and the infected were thrown against each other. Explosions, screams, chaos outside—then the vehicle crashed.
Silence.
The back doors opened. Three men and a woman stood there.
Daisy, trembling, whispered:
"Who… are you?"
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