The predawn air was bitterly cold, a stark contrast to the smoldering wreckage Harley had left behind. He stood at the edge of the makeshift encampment, fully geared in scavenged tactical armor that felt a size too snug. The soldiers around him moved with quiet efficiency, their faces hard and focused. The rising sun cast a pale glow over the horizon, doing little to dispel the weight of unease hanging in the air.
A soldier handed him a rifle, but Harley waved it off.
"I won't need that," he said, flexing his fingers.
The man frowned, clearly wanting to argue, but Bryant appeared, cutting off the exchange with a sharp look.
"Let him fight his way," Bryant said, his tone leaving no room for debate.
The soldier gave a reluctant nod and moved on. Harley caught Bryant's gaze and raised an eyebrow. "So, what's the plan?"
Bryant unfolded a map on the hood of a jeep. "The settlement is about six clicks west of here. Small place, maybe two dozen people. They sent out an SOS an hour ago, reporting multiple infected breaching their defenses. Then they mentioned something..." He paused, his jaw tightening.
"Something big?" Harley guessed.
"Something fast," Bryant corrected. "Faster than any infected we've seen before. Stronger, too. They called it a monster before the transmission cut out."
Harley absorbed this information with a grim nod. "Great. And here I was hoping for an easy morning."
Bryant smirked faintly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Move out in five."
The convoy consisted of two armored jeeps and a troop transport truck. Harley rode in the back of the lead jeep, flanked by two soldiers who kept stealing wary glances at him. He ignored them, his attention focused on the landscape rolling by.
The world felt empty—desolate roads, abandoned cars, and buildings overtaken by nature. It was a stark reminder of how quickly everything could fall apart.
As they neared the settlement, the radio crackled to life.
"Base, this is Recon Two," a voice called, strained and breathless. "We've got visuals on the target—oh god, it's—"
The transmission cut off abruptly, leaving only static.
Bryant snatched up the radio. "Recon Two, report. What's your status?"
No response.
The convoy slowed as they approached the outskirts of the settlement. The first sign of trouble was the smell—thick and acrid, a mix of blood and decay. Harley's enhanced senses caught it before the others, his nose wrinkling in disgust.
The jeeps came to a halt, and the soldiers disembarked, weapons drawn. Harley followed, his eyes scanning the area. The settlement was eerily quiet, its wooden barricades splintered and broken. Bodies littered the ground, some human, others infected.
But there was no sign of movement.
"Stay sharp," Bryant ordered, his voice low.
Harley moved cautiously, his instincts screaming that something was wrong. He knelt by one of the bodies, a young man with his chest torn open. The wound was jagged, as if inflicted by claws rather than teeth.
"This isn't normal," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
A faint sound reached his ears—a low, guttural growl, distant but growing louder. He straightened, his crimson eyes narrowing.
"Something's coming," he warned.
The soldiers tensed, their weapons snapping to attention. The growl grew into a roar, and then the Variant appeared.
It burst from the ruins of a nearby building, moving with terrifying speed. The creature was massive, standing at least eight feet tall, its body a grotesque fusion of muscle and decay. Its eyes glowed faintly, and its claws gleamed like polished steel.
"Open fire!" Bryant shouted.
The soldiers unleashed a hail of bullets, but the Variant moved like a blur, dodging and weaving with unnatural agility. It closed the distance in seconds, slamming into the nearest soldier and sending him flying.
Harley didn't wait. He charged forward, his enhanced reflexes kicking in. The Variant turned toward him, letting out another bone-rattling roar, but Harley was already in motion.
He ducked under a sweeping claw and struck the creature's side with a powerful punch. The impact sent a shockwave through his arm, but the Variant barely flinched. It lashed out with its other claw, and Harley twisted away, narrowly avoiding dismemberment.
"Great," he muttered. "Tougher than it looks."
The Variant lunged again, its claws aimed at his chest. This time, Harley didn't dodge. He caught its wrist, his enhanced strength barely holding it back. The effort sent a jolt of pain through his muscles, but he gritted his teeth and held firm.
With his free hand, he struck the Variant's elbow, snapping the joint with a sickening crack. The creature howled, jerking back, but Harley didn't let up. He moved with relentless precision, targeting weak points—joints, tendons, the base of the skull.
The soldiers continued firing, their bullets chipping away at the Variant's thick hide but failing to bring it down.
"Focus fire on its legs!" Bryant barked.
The strategy worked. A volley of bullets shattered one of the creature's knees, sending it crashing to the ground. Harley seized the opportunity, leaping onto its back. He wrapped his arms around its neck, using all his strength to twist.
The Variant thrashed wildly, but Harley held on, his crimson eyes blazing with determination. With a final, brutal wrench, he snapped the creature's spine. It let out one last gurgling roar before collapsing in a lifeless heap.
Harley rolled off its back, breathing heavily. His body ached, his muscles screaming in protest, but he was alive.
The soldiers approached cautiously, their weapons still trained on the fallen Variant.
"Is it dead?" one of them asked.
"For now," Harley said, his voice rough. He looked up at Bryant. "But if there are more of these out there, you've got a bigger problem than just zombies."
Bryant nodded grimly, his gaze fixed on the creature's corpse. "We need to get this back to base. Carruthers will want to study it."
As the soldiers began securing the area, Harley sat down on a broken piece of barricade, his thoughts racing.
This Variant wasn't just stronger or faster—it was something else entirely. And if the virus was capable of creating monsters like this, Harley couldn't help but wonder what it was doing to him.