The station erupted into chaos.
The second Reeves lunged, Aiden was already moving. Instinct kicked in, his body reacting before his mind fully processed it—years of battle reflexes taking over.
Reeves' speed was unnatural, a blur of motion that should've been too fast for Aiden to track. But he did track it.
His baton snapped up, intercepting the strike with a jarring crack of impact, light surging through the metal. The force sent a shockwave through Aiden's arm, but Reeves recoiled, blinking in surprise.
For just a second, their gazes locked.
And Aiden saw it—the flicker of recognition in Reeves' glowing red eyes, the way his lips curled into something too knowing.
"Yeah, didn't expect me to keep up did you?"
Aiden pressed forward.
The baton sang through the air, its usual weight off—straining under the force of his light. Each swing left behind a brief afterimage, cracks forming along its length, slivers of golden radiance leaking through. He wasn't just using it as a weapon anymore—he was forcing it to carry something it wasn't meant to.
And it was breaking.
But there was no time to stop.
Reeves ducked the next strike and fired.
The gunshot rang out, deafening in the enclosed space.
The bullet hit Aiden—square in the chest.
Nothing.
No pain. No impact.
Reeves' smirk faltered.
Another shot. Then another.
Aiden barely flinched. He felt the force, the brief pressure of something trying to break through—but it couldn't.
Reeves' expression twisted. "That's impossible."
Aiden exhaled. "Not for me."
Then, he closed the distance.
The baton cracked further as Aiden swung—this time, not holding back. The light exploded outward on impact, slamming into Reeves' ribs with enough force to launch him backward, sending him crashing through a row of desks.
The station was in full-blown panic now.
Garrison dodged a wild swing from Chang, barely avoiding the snap of too-sharp teeth lunging toward his throat. His back slammed against a desk, sending paperwork flying.
"Son of a—!"
Chang moved swiftly, his movements sharp and jerky. Like his body hadn't fully adjusted to his new abilities. His lips snarled up, revealing his blood stained teeth.
Garrison wasn't about to let himself get bitten.
He twisted mid-lunge, slamming an elbow into Chang's ribs, knocking him back. Chang staggered, only for Garrison to follow up, grabbing him by the collar and driving him into the nearest desk.
The furniture buckled under the force.
"What the hell is going on," Garrison muttered, twisting Chang's arm behind his back, forcing him to the ground.
Chang growled, body straining unnaturally against the hold. Even with his strength—there was no escape from his grip at that angle.
From the corner of his eye, Garrison saw the Chief launch at Aaron—a flash of teeth, inches from his throat.
Aaron screamed, falling backward, barely keeping the infected Chief's jaws from clamping down. His back slammed against a fallen chair, hands gripping the Chief's shoulders, desperately trying to keep him away.
"CHIEF?!" Aaron choked, scrambling backward. "STOP!"
The Chief snapped at his face, drool dripping from his lips, his body convulsing as if he couldn't fully control his movements.
"Hold still, hold still!" Shariff was yanking on the Chief's arm, trying to pull him off, but the infected's strength was unreal.
Aaron's arms were buckling. The Chief was inches from sinking his teeth in—
"Move!" Garrison barked.
Garrison fired.
The bullet punched through the Chief's skull.
For a second, the body froze. Then—it crumbled, darkness peeling away like burning paper, vanishing into nothing.
Aaron gasped for air, shaking.
"Aaron Grab his legs!" Shariff shouted.
Aaron barely had time to process before Garrison shoved Chang forward, knee pressing into his spine. Shariff grabbed a spare pair of cuffs, locking Chang's wrists behind his back.
The body twitched beneath them.
"Legs too," Garrison grunted.
They weren't taking any chances.
Shariff yanked Chang's ankles together, securing them with another set of cuffs.
"He better not be faking that unconscious act," Aaron muttered, breath still shaky.
Shariff ripped a piece of his jacket off, wrapped it tight, and muzzled Chang's mouth, knotting the fabric around the back of his head.
"That should keep him from biting anyone."
For a moment, things almost felt under control.
Until Holt screamed.
Garrison barely turned in time to see it—an infected officer lunging at him from the side.
He knew right away, he wouldnt be able to react in time.
That was when Holt shoved him out of the way.
Teeth sank into her shoulder.
Her strangled gasp cut through the noise.
Sharriff jumped up backing away on reflex.
A rookie officer near the back dropped his gun, hands shaking too badly to pick it up.
"T-this isn't happening. This isn't happening."
He stumbled back, pressing against a desk like it would keep him safe.
"We need to get out of here," another cop whispered, voice hoarse.
Blood spilled down her uniform, staining the fabric dark.
The moment lasted only a second.
Holt twisted mid-bite, driving her elbow into the infected's throat, shoving him off. Garrison fired twice. The creature collapsed, fading into nothing.
But it was too late.
Holt staggered, pressing a hand to her wound, fingers coming away slick with red.
Aiden barely had time to process before Reeves was back on him.
Their fight turned vicious, more about speed than brute force. Aiden's body moved on instinct—adjusting, calculating, using dark mist defensively, pinpointing where Reeves would strike before he even moved.
But the mist… it felt different. Slower. Unstable.
"I don't have time for this right now."
It was a game of margins now.
And then—Reeves glared, dodging a strike, his voice like oil.
"Dont get cocky, hero! Unless you want to end up like the others. Our leader had a lot of fun with the other two ladies this morning."
Aiden face went blank.
Just for a second.
Just long enough for Reeves to take advantage of the hesitation.
His fist crashed into Aiden's jaw, the impact ringing through his skull like a gunshot.
Aiden staggered—shaking, dazed. His hands trembled, not from fear. Not from pain. From fury.
His grip on the baton turned iron-tight. His heartbeat pounded in his skull, drowning out everything else.
Reeves grinned.
"You should've heard her scream."
Aiden exploded in a fit of rage.
The dark mist surged to life, coiling over his shoulders in jagged, living streaks of shadow as his grip tightened on the baton.
It glowed, pulsing to the beat of his heart.
His body moved on instinct again—this time not stopping.
The next blow hit like a wrecking ball, slamming Reeves into the tile hard enough to crack the floor beneath him.
Aiden didn't wait for him to get up.
He raised the baton—ready to end it.
"Aiden!"
Garrison's voice cut through the storm in his head.
Aiden turned—just in time to see Holt.
Flickering red eyes. Twitching fingers. Her breath was ragged, shallow—like someone struggling to remember how to breathe.
She locked eyes with Aiden.
And she knew.
They all did.
when Aiden turned back—
Reeves was gone.
Sophie was gone.
The newly infected? Gone.
The chaos slowed, the sounds of fighting dissipating. The remaining officers—the ones still human—stood in tense, stunned silence.
A few had drawn weapons but were too stunned to act.
"This—this isn't real," one officer muttered, staring at where the bodies had faded away into nothing.
"What the hell is happening?!" another yelled.
Aaron was still shaking, knuckles white as he held onto a desk.
Shariff had his hand on his sidearm, body tense, like he wasn't sure who was going to turn next.
Garrison stepped toward Holt, voice tight. "We—we can fix this. There's gotta be a way."
But Holt just gave him a small, tired smile.
And turned to Aiden.
Her breath was uneven, but there was no fear in her eyes.
She reached up, pressing bloodied fingers to Aiden's chest.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Aiden fired.
The shot echoed through the station.
Holt's body froze.
Then—it began to fade.
No screaming. No thrashing.
Aiden's grip on the gun cut into his hand, his pulse hammering against his ribs.
She just… disappeared.
Like she had never been there at all.
The room stilled.
What remained was a room full of terrified, confused people.
The officers who were left didn't speak, didn't move.
Shariff swallowed hard. "They just… left."
Aaron looked down at his hands—still shaking.
Garrison was breathing hard, body coiled like a spring. "This is going to spread."
Aiden's baton glowed faintly, the cracks in the metal deepening. Light still leaked through.
They weren't done.
Garrison turned to him.
"What do we do with him?"
His gaze landed on Chang—bound, muzzled, but still breathing.
Aiden's grip on the baton tightened.
"We find out what he knows."