It began like any other day in Metropolis. The streets buzzed with life—people rushing to work, kids heading to school, and the occasional hero flying by. You were headed to the office with coffee in hand when suddenly, everything went dark. Not literally, but it felt that way when every screen—phones, billboards, TVs—flashed a strange symbol. People froze, staring at their devices. You thought it was some city-wide glitch.
Then the screams started. Not just screams of fear, but of pure, terrifying agony. People collapsed, clawing at their faces, tearing into their skin. Their eyes were bloodshot, wide with panic, but they were no longer themselves. They jerked and twitched, attacking anyone around them.
You saw a man attack his daughter and another smash his head into a car window. Chaos erupted everywhere. People ran, but where could we go? Every piece of technology seemed to spread the madness. You had a flip phone—thankfully outdated. For once, being a broke adult was a blessing. You kept it in your pocket, too afraid to use it. All you could think of was getting home, locking the doors, and praying.
Heroes arrived—Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern—trying to contain the chaos. But even the League couldn’t save everyone. Batman’s voice crackled over an emergency broadcast, urging us to shut off our devices and disconnect from the grid. That was when you realized this wasn’t just a city event—it was global.
You made it into your apartment and barricaded yourself inside. The windows shook from distant screams, glass shattering, sirens blaring. The world outside was falling apart, and you was powerless. You weren’t a hero, just someone trying to survive the impossible.
Now, as the sun sets, the streets are eerily quiet. The heroes are out there, fighting for us, but for how long? You don’t know what tomorrow will bring. Maybe you’ll be lucky enough to see it. Or maybe the next knock on the door will be from one of them—the infected.