In front of the market, leaning against the Fiorino, Bruno was seething at what he'd just seen inside. He set the sledgehammer on the hood, pulled his phone from his pocket, and turned on the car stereo. After syncing it to his phone, he picked a song that seemed to match the rage boiling inside him.
The speakers erupted at full volume — End of Me by Ashes to Remain blasted through the air. The song had barely begun when the infected started closing in from every direction. Bruno grabbed the sledgehammer, feeling fury surge through him. The black veins spread fast across his skin, his eyes burning with uncontrollable wrath. The first infected came too close, and Bruno didn't hesitate — he swung hard, the hammer smashing into its jaw with a crack of splintering bone, spraying chunks of flesh across the pavement. Before the body even hit the ground, he pivoted and brought the hammer down again, crushing the creature's skull like a watermelon — bone fragments bursting in all directions.
Another infected charged. Bruno, now fully consumed by rage, lunged forward like a starving predator. The sledgehammer sliced through the air in a wide arc, snapping the creature's neck sideways. Riding the momentum, Bruno spun, driving the hammer into the gut of the next one. The impact ripped the thing open, and Bruno shoved it back, using the force to propel himself onward.
Then he realized — it was too easy. He didn't need the hammer anymore.
The song surged, and without thinking, Bruno let the weapon drop. The transformation hit instantly. His hands twisted, nails lengthening into claws. His skin grew pale, and those black veins pulsed everywhere, glowing with something almost unholy. His eyes, now completely red, burned with the fury of a demon unchained. With a guttural roar, he hurled himself into the horde.
They came in waves, but Bruno was a storm. He ducked beneath a swipe, countered with a brutal kick that crushed an infected's skull beneath his boot. In one smooth motion, he spun left, grabbed the leg of a creature attacking from behind, and tore it clean off. Without missing a beat, he wielded the severed limb like a club, smashing it into others with deadly precision. Each hit splintered bone and tore flesh; every movement was a vicious, fluid dance. He didn't stop. He didn't feel pain. He didn't tire.
With a somersault, he lunged at a fleeing infected, punching straight through its spine. He ripped its limbs free and hurled them like makeshift weapons at the oncoming swarm. Arms, legs, heads — everything he tore apart became another tool for his rage.
With every strike, the black veins crawled deeper across his skin, feeding his savagery. The infected were nothing but playthings in his hands. He tore through them like a beast unleashed, merciless, relentless — and with every beat of the music, it was as if the song itself was fueling him, driving him to fight harder, to lose himself completely.
When it was over, the ground was carpeted with shredded bodies. But Bruno didn't stop. He moved through the carnage like a demon in the flesh — tearing, crushing, devouring the chaos — until nothing was left but blood, bones, and ruin.
Bruno opened his eyes, staring up at a clean, white ceiling. His body felt heavy, his head spinning even though he was lying down. He was on a double bed, and in that moment, he realized it hadn't been just a dream. A dream… no — a memory of what had happened the day before.
He turned his head to the side, and the first thing he saw was a spill of red hair spread across the pillow beside him. Íris.
He frowned, confused. What the hell was she doing there? His gaze slid to the door, where a dresser had been shoved against it, forming an improvised barricade.
— What the hell is this crazy girl doing sleeping here with me? — he muttered, watching her.
His eyes drifted down her body — her calm breathing, her soft features. A thought flashed through his mind like lightning: I could take a little advantage of this.
His hand started to move, almost by instinct, reaching toward her. But before he could touch her, a flash from the previous day exploded inside his head.
The shock hit like a brick to the skull. A sharp pain spread through his head, forcing his jaw shut tight.
— Better leave it… wouldn't be right to her. — he murmured to himself, drawing a deep breath as he turned away.
Then the images came — like blades slicing through his brain. The market. The blood. The bodies. The despair.
The pain grew unbearable. With a guttural groan, Bruno rolled off the bed and hit the floor.
The impact only made it worse. He clutched his head, eyes wide, jerking from side to side as if trying to escape the memories tearing him apart from the inside. His chest heaved, breaths erratic and shallow.
The noise jolted Íris awake. She sat up in bed, startled.
— Bruno?!
She saw him on the floor, body tense, muscles locked in pain. Then she noticed something worse — a thin stream of blood running from his nose.
Íris's heart jumped.
— Shit… Bruno, look at me! Are you changing? — she asked, panic creeping into her voice.
He didn't respond. His eyes were glazed, his breathing rapid. Then he let out a strangled sob, tears spilling down his face.
— I lost them… — his voice came out broken, full of despair. — I lost everyone…
Bruno started gasping, his chest tightening, like he was drowning in his own fear. His fingers dug into the floor, muscles trembling.
Íris recognized the signs instantly — a panic attack.
Without hesitation, she dropped to her knees beside him and pulled him into her arms.
— Easy, easy… it's gonna pass… — her voice was low, steady. She pressed his head against her chest, wrapping him in a firm embrace. — I'm here. Breathe… it's okay.
At first, Bruno resisted. His body was rigid, tense, as if trying to break free from her touch. But as Íris's warmth surrounded him, as her voice echoed faintly through the chaos in his head, something inside him began to loosen.
His muscles softened. His breathing slowed.
He didn't say a word — just stayed there, eyes closed, letting himself sink into the only safe harbor he had left.
When the storm finally passed, Bruno's mind cleared — and that's when he realized he was naked in her arms. His eyes went wide in disbelief.
— Wait, why the hell is my Spartan out in the open?! — he shouted, quickly covering himself, his face burning with embarrassment.
Íris couldn't help it — she burst out laughing.
— I'm sorry, okay? You just passed out out of nowhere, and I had no idea what to do or when you'd wake up. You were covered in blood, so I cleaned you up and put you in bed. Look, I didn't want to sleep unprotected, so I barricaded the room and stayed the night. Too bad I don't exactly keep men's clothes around here… I filled two buckets with water to wash your stuff, so it'd be clean when you woke up. Sorry for leaving you naked — but hey, look on the bright side: now we're even, since you saw me naked yesterday, right?
Bruno was speechless. He just got up and grabbed the clothes hanging by the window.
— You didn't do anything weird with my body while I was out cold, right? — he asked, giving her a sharp look.
— Relax, I didn't do anything. Though I was curious how you managed to stay "standing" all night… What were you dreaming about, huh? — Íris teased, tapping his head.
Bruno smirked, cocky as ever.
— Porn. I dreamed I was getting it on with everyone in the brothel.
— Liar… was it me? You dreamed about me, didn't you? Because I was right next to you? — she teased, grinning.
— Of course not… I only realized we'd slept together when I woke up. Didn't even know I was naked. — Bruno turned his face away, shaking his head, trying to shove away the flashes of his dream — or nightmare, really — where he saw himself turning into something worse than the infected.
He sighed.
— Let's get ready to move out, okay?
Some time later…
Bruno and Íris stepped out of the house with backpacks slung over their shoulders, carrying water and a few supplies in case they got hungry and found nothing along the way.
— Hey, Íris, I think we need to start gearing up better from now on. — Bruno said, scanning the street, that uneasy feeling creeping back into his chest.
— And what exactly do you suggest? We already have knives. What we really need is a place we can turn into a safe base. — Íris replied absently, rifling through the pockets of a corpse lying on the sidewalk.
— Wouldn't hurt to get our hands on some firearms too. — Bruno muttered, already sensing that sooner or later they'd run into other survivors. Yesterday had made one thing clear — plenty of bad people had made it through the outbreak.
Íris pulled a customized Cruzeiro lighter from the corpse's pocket, along with a small plastic-wrapped bag of weed. She stood, examining her find with a crooked smile.
— You're the boss. Whatever you say, I'll do. — she said, shrugging, then lifted the bag to her nose as if testing the quality.
Bruno raised an eyebrow.
— I was thinking we could check out the army training post or maybe the fire station over in Santa Matilde… By the way, you into that stuff?
She chuckled, slipping the weed into her back pocket.
— Never said I wasn't. And you, do you smoke?
Bruno nodded, but before he could answer, he caught sight of something moving up ahead. His eyes narrowed as he spotted a small horde of infected spilling out from a side street.
Without hesitation, he grabbed Íris by the arm and pulled her down behind a car before they were seen. She opened her mouth to ask what was happening, but Bruno silenced her with a quick hand over her lips.
Moments later, the infected shuffled closer — far closer than he liked. Any sound now would give them away.
They had to wait. And pray nothing went wrong.
With quick hand signals, Bruno told Íris not to make a sound, not a single word. One of the infected broke into a jog, heading straight for the car they were hiding behind. If they stayed perfectly still, perfectly quiet, maybe they'd go unnoticed.
Íris nodded, understanding immediately. Beside her lay a loose stone. Without hesitation and without making a sound, she picked it up. Bruno said nothing, just watched — alert, assessing her move.
Crouched low, Íris crept toward the back of the car, each step deliberate and silent. When she reached it, she peeked out, scanning the street. The horde wasn't too big — if they were careful and fast, they could slip away without drawing attention.
She held up the stone to show Bruno, then signaled for him to run as soon as she threw it. He nodded, muscles tensing.
With a precise flick of her wrist, Íris hurled the stone at a glass window. It shattered with a sharp crack that echoed through the street.
But just as she braced to sprint, a sound broke the air — one she hadn't expected — and she froze in place.
Thin, high-pitched screams of children echoed from inside the house.
Íris's eyes went wide.
Shit.
There were survivors hiding in the room whose window she'd just shattered. And now, without meaning to, she'd used them as bait.
Horror sliced through her like a cold blade. She abandoned her plan on the spot and revealed herself, shouting to draw the infected away.
— HEY, HEY, OVER HERE! — she screamed.
Bruno, already bracing to run, whirled around furious.
— WHAT THE FUCK, ÍRIS?! LOOK WHAT YOU DID! — he yelled.
— I'M SORRY, BUT I CAN'T LET THOSE KIDS DIE BECAUSE OF ME! HELP ME SAVE THEM! — she begged, desperation spilling from her voice.
Bruno snorted, clenching his fists.
— Goddamn it! Now we have to pull a charity stunt in this mess… FUCK!
With no other choice, they ran, luring the infected behind them. They cut through block after block, the monsters' grunts and thudding steps close on their heels. Bruno felt wrong in his body — heavy, strange, like he hadn't eaten in days. Fatigue hit him harder than usual. He stopped suddenly and ripped the sledgehammer from his pack.
— WHY DID YOU STOP?! ARE YOU CRAZY?! — Íris shouted, skidding to a halt, almost regretting she'd asked for help.
Bruno held the hammer tight and breathed in deep.
— My body's wrong… weak… I won't be able to keep running.
— ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?! — Íris screamed, frantic.
He looked her dead in the eyes; his seriousness cut through the chaos.
— Lungs, tendons, any fragile part could slow you down or get you killed if someone gets a hold of you. If you think you can't fight, hide. NOW.
Íris's heart slammed. She scanned the street and saw a car with the driver's door open. Without thinking, she sprinted to it and threw herself inside, locking everything as she heard the infected drawing near.
Everything was on Bruno now.
As he steadied himself to face the oncoming infected, something throbbed through his body — a latent heat, a dense energy that made him shudder. Time seemed to freeze.
— There you are, sacrificing yourself again…
His body was frozen — along with everything else around him. Only that voice echoed inside his mind. What the hell… that voice again? he thought.
— So, weakling… is she really worth saving? Just 'cause she's hot? — the voice mocked, dripping with scorn.
Bruno clenched his teeth, rage flaring inside him like wildfire. Protect her? You're insane. I'm not sacrificing myself for anyone!
— Then what's your reason, insect?
Fury burst within him. His muscles tensed, his chest heaving as adrenaline scorched through his veins. Those things… they killed my sister. My cousins. My best friend… His eyes hardened, pure hatred blazing in them. So let me tell you just once… This isn't sacrifice. It's slaughter. And I'll kill anything that gets in my way.
His own battle cry snapped him back to reality. The infected were only meters away. His heart pounded like a war drum, his body thrumming with raw, primal energy.
Then he charged.
The first swing of the sledgehammer shattered the skull of the closest infected, spraying bone fragments and hot blood through the air. He ducked a clumsy strike, pivoted, and swung again — a horizontal blow that tore half the face off another creature, sending it crashing like a puppet with cut strings.
They came in a pack, arms outstretched, jaws snapping for flesh. Bruno moved with brutal precision, using the chaos around him. He leapt back, pushed off the hood of a car, and hurled himself forward, slamming the hammer into an infected's knee — bone cracked like a twig. The thing hit the pavement face-first, helpless, and Bruno crushed its skull beneath his boot with a furious stomp.
He spun, dodging another swipe, swept a leg out fast and clean, knocking two down at once. Before they could rise, the hammer came down — each hit a thunderclap, each impact splattering brains across the cracked asphalt.
From inside the car, Íris watched, transfixed. What she saw wasn't a boy fighting to survive — it was a predator unleashed.
Bruno was drenched in blood. His chest heaved; sweat and gore slicked the handle of his hammer. He was slowing down. His body felt heavy, hollow, as if it were burning itself out from the inside. When he reached for the hammer he'd dropped, a shriek tore the air — an infected lunged at his back.
The bite never came.
In one explosive motion, Bruno grabbed the creature's head and hurled it forward, slamming it onto the pavement. In a heartbeat, he twisted its neck — crack — and it went limp.
The last one charged. Bruno didn't hesitate. He flung the sledgehammer with every ounce of strength left in him — it smashed straight into the creature's face, sending it staggering backward. Bruno lunged, tackling it to the ground. And then he started punching.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
His fists sank into flesh, pulverizing bone. His eyes burned, pupils narrowing like a beast's. The veins across his body turned black and swollen, throbbing with something trying to claw its way out.
He kept hitting — long after there was no face left to hit.
— Stop, Bruno! — Íris screamed, but he didn't react.
She jumped out of the car and ran to him.
— Stop! You've already won!
Bruno didn't hear her. Every punch fed something deep inside him — something dangerous, monstrous.
Íris felt a chill crawl up her spine as she saw the same dark veins from the day before, when he'd saved her from those men. He was slipping away again. Something was taking over.
With no other choice, she grabbed him and pulled him back, hard, away from the mangled corpse. Only then did Bruno blink — the wild light in his eyes slowly fading.
Panting, he stared at his blood-smeared hands.
— What the fuck… was that? — he muttered.
Íris just stared back at him — shaken, confused, and terrified.