They're All In Cahoots!
They're all in cahoots!
At the exact moment J was reporting to his superiors at the Anomaly Response and Management Agency, Arin—who'd been locked in a desperate struggle with the monster—was dangling precariously from her tomahawk, clinging to the side of the building for a full ten minutes now.
The massive glass exterior offered no foothold whatsoever.
With one hand pressed to her abdomen to staunch the blood seeping out, she couldn't climb up.
Her grip on the tomahawk handle was weakening by the second.
The moment she tried to free her other hand from her belly to pull herself up, she felt her guts starting to spill out.
She slapped her hand back down, trapped in an impossible bind.
Furious, she craned her neck and screamed up at the people inside the building.
"Hey, you fucking bastards!!"
To understand how it came to this, we need to rewind about thirty minutes.
In truth, Arin always approached operations with brutal simplicity.
She'd never been much for studying anyway.
No guarantee deep thinking would yield better results.
And above all, establishing rules for ordinary people to follow was the real work.
So her newly devised plan for this op was idiotically straightforward.
If they couldn't muffle their sounds, why not make it so damn noisy the enemy couldn't pinpoint them?
That led to using the fire alarm and sprinklers.
The plan: Clear one or two floors in advance.
Trigger the fire alarm.
Race down the stairs to the safe zone.
Clear just that spot of threats.
The alarm broadcasts everywhere, blaring loud enough to mask footsteps.
Sprinklers add water noise for extra cover.
Might even slow the fire's upward spread—or put it out entirely.
Sprinklers pour endlessly once triggered, but they'd shut off quick if manually stopped.
In a skyscraper like this, gravity-fed—not pump-driven—so no need to hunt valves.
Just smash 'em physically to start the flow.
Once noise covered them, Arin—having pre-cleared two floors—would drop one level ahead of the group each time they descended.
Seal the door behind.
Check and isolate any threats first.
The water tank linked to the sprinklers was contaminated, sparking this mess.
But anyone who could've turned zombie already had, long ago.
No worsening from here, Arin figured.
The Support Team agreed—it was solid.
...Looks like the plan's got some changes?
That's when the Mayor approached.
"Impressive. That approach should let you descend while hiding footsteps nicely."
"Once the lower floors are secured, we start right away. Won't take long—hang tight."
"But... one staffer handles all that?"
Having overheard the Anomaly Response and Management Agency crew's bizarre strategy, the Mayor nodded in understanding—but questioned it too.
She looked more girl than woman.
No visible brawn, no veteran vibe.
Why entrust her with the riskiest, crucial job?
Maybe the weak link steps up in tough spots.
Or was she, as those trembling fools behind whispered, a monster in human skin?
"Don't worry."
"Alright then."
The Mayor waved it off inwardly—experts knew best.
"Mind if I relay it to them?"
Relaying via Agency staff felt off, she said.
They nodded—sure, go ahead.
The Mayor approached the civilians, gave a quick rundown, urged calm if the alarm blared—keep order.
Silence fell.
Then one guy tentatively raised a hand, gauging reactions.
"You're... triggering the sprinklers?"
"Yes, to mask our movement noise..."
"But Madam Mayor, they said that water from the sprinklers made the zombies!"
Murmurs rippled.
The Mayor—briefed ahead—calmed them: Surface exposure's fine, not ingestion.
But distrust lingered in their eyes.
Simple logic said otherwise, but exhaustion, fear, anxiety clouded minds.
Whispers turned to accusations: Agency turning them into monsters?
Paranoia exploded.
Arin and the Support Team reopened the elevator, prepped amid the tension.
"Signal up top when ready."
Arin descended the maintenance ladder.
Opened the stair door like before.
Lured zombies into the elevator shaft.
Falling ones didn't seem stunned enough to stay down this time.
She clicked her tongue.
"Ugh, eye contact again."
Dozens of eyeballs rolled upward, scraping walls.
She grimaced, slammed the elevator doors shut.
Not that they couldn't force them—more like they didn't grasp doors existed.
Or it took time for upper-floor kin to follow down.
The zombie clump's intelligence seemed low.
...Small mercy.
Out to the stairs, flashlight in hand.
She swung it over the railing.
Up top dropped theirs in response—confirmed.
Then the fire alarm shrieked everywhere.
Simultaneously, hammer blows on the main pipe echoed through.
Green water burst from ceiling sprinklers.
They're coming down.
Alarm and water drowned footsteps perfectly.
Arin dropped floors ahead as planned.
Soon, they reached floor 80—clothes soaked again, drowned-rat style.
Success.
"Support Team! How do we signal the big one?!"
"Alarm's blaring again—lower floors'll notice! Got a personal signal kit too!"
Voices drowned, so they cupped hands to mouths, yelled close-up.
A group wandered, seeking drier spots.
Stopped at the elevator doors.
Scraping green slime off themselves in disgust.
Eyes glared—blaming the Agency for this mess.
Water weakened; they grumbled, whispered.
"Those psychos aren't right in the head. Who do they think we are...?"
"Dragging a monster around? Sane? And we all saw—they tried shooting that young one's head!"
"Mayor's in on it too, not even questioning... Once we're out, we make a scene... Wait, hear that?"
One, back to elevator, caught a sound.
Hunted the source, ear to door.
Screamed, stumbled back.
"What?!"
"Something inside... those things, corpses making noise!"
"Just nerves?"
"Didn't they herd 'em into the elevator shaft?"
"Why'd they end up here, not splat below?!"
Simple answer: Shaft ends here.
That's why the noise cover—to minimize risk.
But paranoia blinded them.
"Those bastards planned to kill us all here from the start!"
Illogical rant, but they didn't care.
Their suspicions were truth; threats were threats.
Voices rose—no quick rebuttal.
Arin and team, prepping signals apart, missed it.
"Why're they acting up?"
Agency folks noticed late, urged quiet, calm down.
Too late—minds made up, twisting facts.
Every Agency move screamed deception.
"Quiet down, folks! Alarm or not, yelling like that...!"
"Mayor's in cahoots too! Only she's fine—doesn't add up!"
"Don't talk about the Mayor like that!"
"See? All in it together, covering!"
Agitators vs. peacemakers—voices escalated.
Sprinklers died—tank empty.
Just alarm ringing in ears.
Then the elevator doors warped.
"Huh?"
Metal screeched like tearing.
Light leaked through bent seams.
Something inside shoved countless eyes through.
"Fuck."
The monster—realizing the gap led outside—rammed its head repeatedly, smashing.
People screamed, scattered—rushing stairs, ducking pillars.
Chaos.
"Told you idiots to shut up...!"
Doors gave out, ripped free.
Half the monster's body emerged.
Unlike glimpses from above or dim shaft light, up close it defied description—grotesque.
Eyes of every color, size on its "head," swiveling, scanning.
A maw of fused human jaws belched victims' wails—drowning even the alarm.
"Aaaah! H-help...!"
Arms, legs tangled into massive limbs swept out.
Snagged stragglers, jaws unhinged—bit off heads, torsos whole.
No time for gore to spill; chomped the rest relentlessly.
Eyeballs rolled, hunting more.
Then—bang!
Half its head exploded, bone shards flying.
"Over here, dumbass!"
The Mayor, huddled behind a gas-mask cabinet, watched wide-eyed as Arin drew her pistol, faced the beast alone.
A girl boldly drawing aggro? Unreal.
One shot fired—then barrel swung away?
Mystifying.
[GRRAAAAA]
Intent irrelevant—beast charged, bulk barreling at Arin.
Mayor held breath as Arin bolted to the window, fired bursts—punching holes in glass.
Clicked.
Arin holstered pistol, yanked tomahawk.
Monster lunged, jaws clamping her gut.
"Kyaaaah!"
She screamed, slammed tomahawk into its skull.
Distracted by girl and pain, momentum unchecked—it crashed into glass.
Pre-weakened panes shattered.
Function lost.
Beast's torso hung out, weight tipping.
Arin wrenched tomahawk free, swung—severed jaw.
Twisted free through the gap.
Hooked blade on frame.
One hand clutched spilling guts.
Gazed down at plummeting monster, 80 stories below.