Don didn’t move.

His eyes remained fixed on the screen.

"...Charles, can they handle those things?," he asked.

Flat.

Charles exhaled slowly beside him.

"...No," he replied. "No... they can’t."

Mr. Olynk’s jaw tightened.

The projection continued to play.

And outside—

The perimeter was starting to break.

Mr. Olynk stared at the projection, eyes narrowing as the grotesque figures advanced without resistance. His jaw shifted slightly before he muttered, almost to himself—

"...what the hell are those things."

Don didn’t take his eyes off the screen.

"Think of them like a mutant infected."

His voice was still flat.

Certain.

Charles exhaled through his nose, his expression tightening as he watched the same feed.

"Power, speed... inhuman reflexes," he said, gaze fixed. "And no function for pain."

His frown deepened. His head turned slightly toward Mr. Olynk.

"I think it’s best you have everyone retreat inside so we can make a proper—"

He stopped.

Mid-sentence.

Something shifted.

All three of them saw it at the same time.

On the projection—

The bullets.

Every round that had been suspended in the air—

Moved.

Slowly at first.

Then with intent.

They rotated.

One by one.

Hundreds of them—

Turning—

Until every barrel of metal pointed back toward the perimeter.

Toward the tower.

The personnel outside saw it too.

From the feed, several of them staggered back a step, rifles lowering instinctively as confusion hit first—

Then realization.

One of them lifted his arm, shouting—

"GET DOW—!"

Too late.

The rounds fired.

All at once.

A storm of metal tore back toward the perimeter—

WHRRRRAAAAM—!

The force behind them had changed.

These weren’t fired bullets anymore—

They were launched.

The first impacts hit the SUVs.

Metal folded inward instantly—

CRAAASH—!

Doors buckled.

Windows shattered outward in violent bursts—

GLASS spraying in all directions—

KRRRSH—!

Rounds punched straight through reinforced plating, tearing through engine blocks and out the other side without losing momentum.

The people behind them—

Didn’t stand a chance.

Bodies jerked as the rounds tore through.

One guard took a hit through the chest—his back erupted outward as the round exited, his body snapping backward into the vehicle behind him—

THUD—!

Another tried to dive—

Too slow.

His leg was taken clean at the thigh—

A wet, violent tear—

He hit the ground screaming, hands clawing at the pavement as blood poured beneath him.

"AAAH—! MY—!"

Another burst followed.

His voice cut off.

Nearby—

Civilians who had been hiding among the dead were caught in it.

One woman tried to crawl—

A round struck her shoulder, spinning her sideways before another tore through her torso—

Her body went still.

A man tried to run—

Desperate—

He made three steps before a round punched through his lower back and out his abdomen—

He collapsed forward, sliding across blood-slick ground.

Some tried to scatter.

Some froze.

Some didn’t even realize what was happening before it hit them.

The noise swallowed everything—

Metal impacts—

Screams—

Concrete breaking apart—

The tower itself taking hits along its lower structure—

THUD—THUD—THUD—!

Chunks of reinforced material chipped away under repeated strikes, cracks spreading outward from each point of impact.

And through it all—

The infected kept moving.

The massive stitched man stepped forward, each footfall burning into the ground—

SSSS—~

Unbothered.

Unaffected.

His pincers clicked once—

CLK—~

The hovering woman followed behind, her body drifting forward at the same slow pace, her hair dragging across the ground—

SCRRRRT—~

Her arm lowered after the attack.

Relaxed.

Like it had cost her nothing.

Inside the room—

No one spoke.

Don’s jaw set slightly.

His eyes didn’t leave the projection.

He’d seen enough destruction on the way here.

This—

Was organized.

Charles stood beside him, his expression just as grim, his gaze narrowing as he tracked the movement patterns.

They both understood.

This wasn’t something you held at a perimeter.

Mr. Olynk cut the feed.

The projection vanished instantly.

His hand shifted to his communicator.

"Watcher team, aerial units—report," he said, voice tight but clear with authority.

A crackle responded.

Then—

"Watcher team here—multiple infected signatures in the distance, sir. Not isolated. Movement patterns suggest coordinated advance."

Another voice cut in.

"Aerial units reporting—large civilian groups moving within those zones. No visible signs of infection among most. They’re panicking."

A brief pause.

Then—

"We’re relocating to rooftop helipads. If extraction is needed, we’ll be ready—but..." he hesitated slightly. "...risk of being shot down is high."

Mr. Olynk’s gaze hardened.

"...Understood," he replied.

The line cut.

For a moment, he said nothing.

Then he turned.

"Sir," he addressed Charles directly, "this building may become overrun soon. I advise you and your friend leave with one chopper. We’ll cover your exit and exfil with the second."

Charles didn’t answer immediately.

He stood there for a second—

Then shook his head.

"No."

Simple.

Final.

He turned away, already moving toward the weapon rack.

"Whoever wants to leave can leave."

His hand reached the rack, selecting two silver pistols without hesitation. The metal caught the light briefly as he checked their weight, their balance.

"I won’t let them take my building," he added, voice final. "They have a better chance trying to take my life."

Don moved as well.

No hesitation.

He reached the rack, grabbing a rifle first, checking the chamber in one smooth motion—

CHK—~

Then a pistol—

Then a knife, sliding it into place along his side.

"Our lives you mean," Don said.

Correcting.

Charles paused.

Then gave a faint smile.

"...Yes," he said. "My mistake."

He cocked one of the pistols—

CHK—~

Then slid it into its holster.

Mr. Olynk watched them both, concern clear now, his posture tightening.

"Sir, I really think—"

Charles was already walking.

He passed him without stopping—

Then paused just enough to speak.

"You know by now you won’t convince me otherwise."

The faint trace of a smile was gone.

What remained—

Was firm.

"So I suggest you get your weapons and gear ready," Charles added, voice lower now, more direct. "And help me defend this place."

Mr. Olynk straightened instantly.

His hand came up in a sharp salute.

"As you command, sir."

The building shook again.

Distant.

But closer than before.