Life after

Hito walked around the headquarters, mouth agape. Gone were the familiar beige walls and flickering fluorescent lights he remembered from pre-apocalypse buildings. Instead, sleek metallic panels lined the corridors, reflecting the soft glow emanating from futuristic overhead lamps. Towering monitors displayed a kaleidoscope of images – infected hordes swarming through dilapidated city streets, scientists in hazmat suits hunched over glowing beakers, and tactical maps pulsing with red dots.

"What are these huge monitors for?" Hito finally asked, pointing towards the wall where a dozen of them were stacked in a grid formation.

"Those track the infected," replied a voice behind him. Hito turned to see a wiry old man in a well-tailored suit, his face etched with the lines of a life lived through hardship. A pair of spectacles perched on his nose, magnifying kind eyes that crinkled at the corners. "By the way, I'm Ashita Moriyama. I manage this place."

Hito nodded, still trying to take everything in. The clothes, the technology, it all felt like something out of a sci-fi movie. He recognized the basic principles behind some of the monitors – satellite feeds, heat signatures – but the sleek design and crisp resolution spoke of advancements far beyond anything he'd ever seen.

"You were in a coma for about ten months," Ashita said gently, seemingly sensing Hito's bewilderment.

Hito's blood ran cold. "Coma? Ten months? But… how?" He looked around wildly, searching for a single familiar face, a single smile to assure him this was all a joke. But the seriousness etched on Ashita's face and the grim determination in the eyes of the other two figures – a stoic man with a military haircut and a young woman with hair like spun rose quartz – confirmed his worst fears.

"You were lucky we kept the power on," Ashita continued, his voice low. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have made it." He reached out and placed a hand on Hito's shoulder, his touch surprisingly strong for such a seemingly frail man. "What happened while I was out?" Hito asked, a lump forming in his throat. Memories of his mother, her worried face as she tucked him into bed that night, flooded his mind. A single tear escaped, tracing a glistening path down his cheek.

Ashita cleared his throat and began to speak. His voice, though gentle, carried the weight of a world shattered. The scene shifted, the sterile corridors of the headquarters fading away as Ashita recounted the horrifying tale.

June 13th, a seemingly ordinary Friday. The sun had promised a clear day, no rain in sight. People bustled about their routines, oblivious to the horror that lurked just around the corner. At precisely 9:11 am, the world plunged into an unnatural twilight. A chilling downpour began, but the raindrops weren't water. They were a viscous, purple slime, clinging to everything it touched.

At first, people found it amusing, a bizarre prank of nature. But the amusement quickly turned to terror as the slime began to writhe and pulsate, seeking out its targets. A high-pitched shriek pierced the air as a student felt the slime slither across his hand. Panic erupted like wildfire as others realized this wasn't rain; it was something far more sinister.

The initial chaos soon gave way to a horrifying realization. The slime wasn't just harmless goo. It possessed an insatiable hunger, a single-minded purpose – to burrow into its victims and take control. Hito's stomach lurched as Ashita described the grotesque transformation, the veins on people's faces bulging purple as the parasite fused with their bodies.

The once vibrant city descended into a living nightmare. The infected, devoid of reason and driven by a primal urge, turned on each other, their humanity slowly stripped away. This wasn't a slow-motion zombie apocalypse; it was a terrifyingly fast and efficient takeover.

Scientists around the world scrambled for a solution. Amidst the carnage, a glimmer of hope emerged. People infected with a rare disease, one Hito unknowingly carried, were immune to the parasite. Frantic research ensued, but no way was found to transmit Hito's immunity to others. 

Meanwhile, the infected were evolving. They began to learn from their hosts, mimicking basic tasks and even rudimentary communication. The once mindless horde became a coordinated force, a terrifying adversary.

Hito looked around, his head spinning. Ten months. The world had ended while he slept. He turned to Ashita, a million questions swirling in his mind. "How come you guys have advanced technologies? It was just ten months."

Ashita looked at him and said, "The government doesn't tell you everything." Hito looked confused about everything. "All of us have the sickness?" He turned back and the driver and the girl that saved him all nodded. "How come she is so strong and fast?" he asked, remembering the girl shooting guns without any problem and how fast she arrived at the scene.

"Since people with the sickness are not affected," Ashita explained, "we were able to track some of them and chemically enhance them to handle the infected." He walked away from the scene and came back holding a boot made of metal with glowing currents coursing through it. "This is what makes them strong and fast. It's called a Scythe-unit. It grants the user superhuman abilities like super jumps, super speed, and even the ability to walk on buildings." Ashita's words painted a picture of futuristic technology in Hito's mind.

Hito's eyes widened in awe. He desperately wanted to try one on. "They look amazing," he stammered.

"They take time to master," Ashita said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "But for now, it's time to meet the crew." He gestured towards the driver, who stepped forward.

"I'm Itachi Nagayama," the driver said, extending a hand. "I'm the team's sniper and driver." He was a muscular man with a military haircut, a stark contrast to the image of someone weakened by the sickness.

"Why are you so buff?" Hito blurted out, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Itachi chuckled. "Not everyone with the sickness is weak. I got infected later, I guess I'm one of the lucky ones." He gestured towards the pink-haired girl. "This is Sakura Raiza."

Sakura, her eyes the color of her hair, offered a small smile. The twin pistols strapped to her hips glinted under the overhead lights, a constant reminder of the dangers they faced.

"Unfortunately, you won't be able to meet everyone right now," Ashita said, "but you can see them through the monitors." He led them towards a massive wall of screens displaying live feeds.

"That's Jin, our captain, and the strongest of us all," Itachi pointed to a blonde man with a physique that rivaled professional bodybuilders. He was clearing a horde of infected with his bare hands, his movements a whirlwind of violence and breathtaking agility. He ripped through the infected with inhuman strength, sending them flying with bone-crunching blows.

"Whoa," Hito breathed, captivated by the raw display of power.

"That's Makima, Jin's best friend," Itachi continued, pointing to another figure who joined the fight. Makima, a black-haired man with a shotgun strapped to his back, used the enhanced boots to his advantage. He launched himself into the air, raining down lead on the infected with pinpoint accuracy.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from a nearby alleyway. It moved differently from the infected, with a more controlled grace. Hito's heart pounded in his chest. This wasn't one of the mindless horde. It was a human.

"Jin! Hold on!" Ashita yelled, his voice laced with urgency. He activated a communicator, his voice echoing through the headquarters. "There's a survivor incoming!"

Jin, mid-punch, glanced at the new arrival. A flicker of surprise crossed his face before hardening into steely resolve. He adjusted his course, heading towards the lone figure.