The hum of the cooling systems filled the silence.
Thirty employees—analysts, monitors, and liaison officers—sat in rows in front of screens, staring without blinking.
The feed from drone number 3 still showed the last scene:
Thomas Alders stood in the middle of the battlefield, covered in blood, black threads wrapping around him like a living creature.
Then...
A faint smile, and a finger gesture...
—then the drone exploded.
And then... silence reigned.
Only the sound of a coffee machine pouring the last drop into a discarded cup was heard.
One employee, a skinny young man wearing large glasses, was trembling as he pressed the stop button on the keyboard, but he failed.
His fingers were convulsing.
He whispered, as if his voice didn't want to come out:
"I... I pressed stop... right?"
His colleague beside him, a woman with short black hair, put her hand to her mouth, then pushed her chair back quickly...
and ran to the corner of the room where she vomited into the trash bin.
No one responded.
All eyes were still fixed on the screen.
The on-duty analyst, a bald man who always wrote his reports in elegant handwriting, stared at the frozen image of the "monster" on the screen, then said quietly:
"Thirty-one soldiers... in seven minutes."
A technician in the back raised his headset, intending to report to the high command, but... he dropped the headset.
His hand was unsteady.
Someone near the door spoke in a confused tone:
"Did... did he weave them? With threads? Is that what we just saw?"
The cybersecurity officer, scrutinizing the footage from another angle, replied:
"No... he didn't weave them... he simply dissected them."
Silence.
Then the communications officer, with a cracked voice and a tone of desperate sincerity, said:
"We weren't watching a mission... we were witnessing a live massacre."
A supervisor entered—an elderly man in his sixties—carrying a file in his hand, and said in his usual tone:
"Is there a report or—"
But he suddenly stopped.
He looked at the screen.
Then at their faces.
Then the file dropped from his hand.
Onto the floor.
Silence fell again.
...
After a full minute, the task registrar spoke in a semi-automated tone, staring into space:
"This must... be classified... a black-level threat. Direct. Beyond any protocol."
But no one answered her.
Everyone was looking at the phrase that appeared automatically on the screen:
> "End of broadcast. Number of dead: 31. Number of survivors: zero. Status: extermination."
Then followed by a final line, entered by no one:
> "I hope the warning has reached you."
...Elsewhere in the city...
Thomas was eating his hamburger when he suddenly sneezed.
"Is someone talking about me?" Thomas said with a puzzled look.
(Note: There is an error in the first chapter, as Thomas's age was in his early twenties.)
As soon as Thomas finished his meal, he quickly headed to his university.
---
After finishing his hamburger quickly, Thomas stood up nervously and walked briskly toward the university just a few blocks from the small restaurant he was used to stopping by.
With every step Thomas took, he heard the echo of his footsteps on the pavement still wet from last night's rain. He was lost in his thoughts, until suddenly he stopped as he heard a clear, gentle voice calling him from afar:
"Thomas... Thomas!"
He slowly turned toward the source of the voice, and there, at the corner of the nearby building, stood a blonde girl with silky hair cascading over her shoulders, shimmering under the dim street lights. Her bright blue eyes shone with vitality and warmth, as if the sea itself was hidden behind them. She wore a simple elegant coat and a white shirt that highlighted her grace and softness.
She smiled lightly, and when she raised her hand to greet Thomas, a mix of worry and joy appeared on her face. Her voice was soft but carried a lively tone that awakened something inside him.
"Why are you late today?" she said gently, "You promised me you'd come early."
---
Thomas didn't hesitate to recognize her. He knew very well who this girl was—she wasn't just any ordinary girl. She was "Gwen Stacy" — the only reason his relationship with her had begun.
He had killed two birds with one stone.
Now he could have a superhero and a stunningly beautiful girl, all for himself.
"You're so foolish," Thomas said, raising his hand befor
e patting her silky hair.
Suddenly—
kiss...
S The girl's back in the comments