They're Back
The infected lurked in the sewer pipes, unaware of the impending attack. Silence reigned until, without warning, a metallic object clinked down the corridor and came to rest among their feet. The infected barely had time to glance at it before it detonated.
A deafening explosion shattered the silence, and tear gas erupted from the device, blanketing the entire tunnel in thick, choking fumes. The already vile stench of the sewer mixed with the chemical haze, creating an unbearable atmosphere. Confusion swept through the infected ranks, their disoriented, ragged breaths barely audible over the rush of chaos.
Then came the gunfire.
It began as a rapid burst of shots that echoed sharply off the concrete walls. Bullets tore through the infected, their bodies jerking violently before collapsing. The sharp crack of rifles was relentless, the agents of the Ninth Special Service Division executing their plan with military precision. Within seconds, the once-guarded entrance to the lair was littered with the bodies of the fallen, the entire corridor cleared as efficiently as a surgeon making an incision.
"Area secure," one of the soldiers announced through the hiss of static in his helmet.
More agents flooded into the sewer, their boots splashing through the filthy water. Clad in heavy combat armor, steel helmets, and gas masks, they moved like machines—methodical, faceless, and unstoppable. Not a patch of skin was exposed, every inch of their bodies covered to protect against whatever horrors might lie deeper within the lair.
Ivan entered with his usual air of calm authority, leading the way. His eyes scanned the surroundings, keenly aware of the oppressive darkness that seemed to cling to the air. Beside him, Fana, her expression unreadable behind her gas mask, released a small flicker of her power—a translucent, red-hued phantom that swirled around her like an ethereal wisp. The phantom slithered ahead, scouting the passage with a grace that contrasted with the grimness of their surroundings.
And as always, Batman remained a ghost in the shadows, his presence unnoticed by his allies. Silent, observant, and utterly invisible, he watched from a blind spot, his gaze analyzing every movement.
Charlie, sitting at his computer, couldn't help but feel an odd admiration for the efficiency of the Ninth Special Service Division. Say what you will about their internal politics or questionable leadership, but when it came to field operations, they moved with ruthless precision.
The tip he had provided to Ivan last night had clearly paid off. Now, with the infected guard posts neutralized, they were making quick work of breaching the entrance. What happened after that would depend on how deep the rabbit hole went.
Ivan gestured toward the door leading into the main chamber, a reinforced metal slab embedded into the concrete wall. It wasn't just any ordinary door—it was thick, heavy, and clearly designed to keep out unwanted guests.
"Let's move," Ivan ordered, his voice calm, though there was an unmistakable edge of urgency. His right arm morphed into a massive, gun-like appendage, metal plates shifting into place with mechanical precision. The transformation took mere seconds, and once complete, he stood ready to unleash the raw firepower in his arsenal.
But first, the team took no chances.
"Agent Duan, check for any life signs," Ivan commanded.
Duan stepped forward. Her "sonic release" ability came to life. She opened her mouth slightly, and though no sound was heard by the human ear, the air around her vibrated with invisible sound waves. These waves bounced off every surface, creating a mental map in her mind—a sonar image of the room beyond.
"It's empty," Duan confirmed after a few tense moments. "No life signs detected inside."
Ivan nodded. "Blow the door."
A combat engineer hurried forward, pulling out a series of explosives. There was no point in trying to hack or bypass the door's security systems. They had one tried and true method: brute force. The engineer attached the charges and signaled the team to take cover.
The detonation came in a thunderous boom, shaking the entire sewer tunnel. Dust and debris cascaded from the ceiling as the explosion reverberated through the confined space. The door was blasted off its hinges, clattering down into the murky water with a splash.
The team waited for the dust to settle, but something didn't feel right.
"Hold," Ivan said, his instincts telling him not to rush in just yet. "Fana, send the phantom."
Fana closed her eyes, the red specter she controlled swirling ahead of her, slipping into the dark room. It moved without sound, passing through the rubble and floating into the space beyond. A few tense moments passed before it returned, its form flickering slightly as it rejoined her.
Fana's eyes opened. "No one inside."
"Good," Ivan said, exhaling slightly. "Move in."
The team advanced into the chamber, weapons raised, eyes scanning for any hidden threats.
But then, as their boots crossed the threshold, something shifted in the air. A soft, almost imperceptible click echoed through the room. Before they could react, the entire space was flooded with light, illuminating the chamber in a harsh, clinical glow.
The room was not empty.
It was a two-story hall, the upper level encircled by a balcony. And on that balcony stood a host of infected. These weren't like the guards they had just gunned down outside. Their bodies were grotesquely twisted, limbs elongated or hunched in ways that defied normal human biology. Their empty eyes gleamed with malice as they stared down at the team below.
From the middle of the balcony, a man stepped forward. His skeletal frame made him look more like a corpse than a living person, and his gaunt face was stretched thin over his sharp bones, giving his grin a sinister quality.
"You thought you had the upper hand," he said, his voice dripping with condescension. "But I knew you'd come. My name is Anti-Sonic, and my ability is 'sonic manipulation.'"
Ivan's face tightened. Duan, standing behind him, muttered, "The sonar... It gave false feedback. I thought this room was empty."
Anti-Sonic laughed, his voice bouncing off the walls like an eerie echo. "Yes, I made sure of that. I control sound itself. What you see, what you hear—it's all because I allow it."
Ivan didn't waste a second. He aimed his transformed arm directly at Anti-Sonic and fired. But the man was quick, darting to the side with unnerving agility. The blast hit two of the infected standing behind him, tearing them apart, but Anti-Sonic remained unharmed.
"Impressive," the villain mused, his skeletal grin widening. "But you'll have to do better than that."
Before Ivan could fire again, the room was rocked by an explosion. Hidden charges planted throughout the space erupted in a series of blasts, sending debris flying. Several agents were thrown off their feet, their bodies slamming against the walls or skidding across the floor.
And then the infected attacked.
With horrifying speed, they leaped from the balcony, descending upon the team with claws outstretched. Chaos erupted in the chamber as the operatives fought to hold their ground, bullets and plasma fire lighting up the room.
---
While the battle raged below, Batman moved silently above, crawling through the ventilation ducts with precision and stealth. He could hear the sounds of the fight—gunfire, explosions, and the inhuman screeches of the infected—but he remained focused on his objective.
The hostages.
Through detective mode, he had already identified multiple heat signatures in a nearby room. His mission was clear: get the hostages out before the Dead could use them as leverage.
As Batman reached the end of the duct, he peered through a small vent, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene below. The room was filled with women—hostages who had been trapped for who knew how long. Most looked disheveled, weak from prolonged captivity, their clothes and faces smeared with dirt.
His gaze locked onto one familiar figure—Melanie. She sat in the corner, her face pale and exhausted, a shadow of the confident agent she had once been.
Without wasting another moment, Batman kicked open the vent and dropped into the room, landing silently despite his sudden entrance.
A few of the women gasped, startled by the sudden appearance of the Dark Knight, but when they saw who it was, their fear quickly turned to relief.
"Batman!" Melanie exclaimed, stumbling to her feet. "You need to get us out of here. You have to warn them... She can become anyone... she could look like one of us."
Charlie's mind raced as he processed the information. A shapeshifter? Could that be how Melanie had ambushed Miyazaki back on the mothership?
"Sir," Friday's voice came through his earpiece, her tone steady despite the chaos, "you should check outside. There's movement."
A heavy thud echoed from beyond the door, like something massive being dragged across the ground.
Melanie's face drained of color. "They're back."
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