"I'm marrying you this month," Zayne declared over breakfast, pointing at Nana with his fork for emphasis. "No more delays. No more excuses. I've been planning to marry you since before Linkon fell and I'm not waiting anymore."
Nana laughed, stealing a piece of his toast. "You're very demanding this morning."
"I'm determined." He tried to look stern but his eyes were soft. "We keep saying 'when things calm down' but things never calm down. So we're doing it anyway. Small ceremony. Your chaotic proposal in front of my colleagues already made it official in everyone's minds anyway."
"You're still blushing about that, aren't you?"
"My entire department has pictures. Someone made a compilation video—"
Nana dissolved into giggles. "You pretending to pout is the cutest thing I've ever seen."
"I'm not pretending—" But he couldn't keep a straight face when she looked at him like that. Like he was the best thing she'd ever seen. Like she'd fight the entire world to keep him.
"Fine. We're getting married this month." Nana stood, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "But you're planning everything because I'll just suggest we do it in a Wanderer zone with weapons as decorations."
"That's... actually not the worst idea you've ever had."
"See? We're perfect for each other."
She grabbed her jacket and weapons, preparing for patrol. Zayne caught her hand before she could leave.
"Be careful today. With all the facility discoveries, people are tense. Hunters included."
"I'm always careful—"
"You kicked a Wanderer during your proposal."
"That was strategic—"
"Nana." He pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Please. Just... come home to me."
She softened immediately. "Always. I promise."
One more kiss—longer, sweeter, full of promises they'd made and kept—and then she was spinning toward the door with a happy wave.
Zayne watched her go, motorcycle engine roaring to life outside, and tried not to worry.
*She'll be fine. She's Specimen 21. She's survived worse than a patrol mission.*
But the news was getting worse every day. More facilities discovered. More evidence of nationwide conspiracy. More *creatures* in containment across multiple cities.
And sooner or later, one of those facilities would breach.
He just prayed it wouldn't be today.
.
.
.
.
.
The mission was easy.
Three Wanderers in an abandoned commercial area. Standard threat level. Nana killed them in under five minutes—one kick, two gunshots, done.
But the atmosphere was wrong.
The other hunters on patrol were tense. Jumpy. Looking over their shoulders constantly like they expected vampires to materialize from thin air.
Which, given recent news, wasn't entirely paranoid.
Nana met up with two other hunters at the checkpoint—both from Bloomshore's local association, neither particularly comfortable around her.
"Specimen 21," one greeted stiffly. "Mission complete?"
"Three Wanderers eliminated. Sector clear."
"Good. We're pulling back early today. Association orders. With all the facility discoveries, command wants hunters in defensive positions rather than active patrol."
"How many facilities have they found now?" Nana asked, though she already knew. She'd been watching the news obsessively.
"Seven confirmed. Four more suspected. All with specimens in containment." The hunter's jaw clenched. "Vampires. Hybrids. Demons. Just like Linkon. Across six different cities."
"Have any breached?"
"Not yet. But—" He lowered his voice. "I heard one in the northern district had a partial containment failure yesterday. Three vampires escaped during transport. Military contained them but..." He glanced at Nana. "It's only a matter of time, isn't it? Before another city falls?"
Nana didn't have a comforting answer.
Because he was right.
She'd seen how fast the Linkon facility had collapsed. How quickly creatures had flooded the city. How impossible it had been to contain the outbreak once it started.
And now there were potentially *twelve* facilities. Twelve potential Linkons. Twelve cities that could be vaporized if containment failed.
"We'll stop them," she said finally. "Before it happens. We have to."
The hunter looked at her with an expression caught between hope and horror. "You stopped Linkon's outbreak. You and Dr. Li. For thirteen days you fought while everyone else evacuated or died."
He hesitated. "If it happens here... if Bloomshore falls... will you fight for us too?"
Nana met his eyes. "Yes. For as long as it takes."
Relief flickered across his face. "Thank you."
They separated to complete patrol routes, but Nana's mind was elsewhere.
She found a quiet spot near an abandoned cafe—similar to the one in Linkon where she and Zayne used to have lunch—and pulled out her phone to check the news.
**BREAKING: Military Locates 8th Specimen Facility in Harbor City**
**DEVELOPING: Nationwide Protests Demand Immediate Destruction of All Facilities**
**EXCLUSIVE: Government Officials Admit to "Preparedness Program" for Future Wanderer Threats**
Preparedness program. That's what they were calling it now.
As if turning people into specimens and creating death realms was preparation instead of crimes against humanity.
Nana's hands clenched on her phone.
Linkon was gone. Vaporized. Erased from existence.
And the government was trying to do the same thing to twelve more cities.
*Why? Why would they create something like this?*
To prepare civilians to fight Wanderers? But Wanderers were easier than vampires and hybrids. Normal hunters handled them fine. There was no need for—
Her phone buzzed. Text from Zayne:
Zayne:Emergency at hospital. Soldier transforming. Don't come. Too dangerous.
Nana's blood went cold.
Transforming.
.
.
.
.
.
Zayne's day off lasted exactly two hours.
The emergency call came at 1015: soldier with vampire bite, brought in from the facility burial site, condition deteriorating rapidly.
He'd driven to the hospital with ice already forming around his hands.
Because he knew what vampire bites did. Had seen it in Avalon. Had *experienced* it six times before mercy kills ended the transformation.
Had never had to perform one himself.
The soldier was in isolation—Trauma Bay 3, doors sealed, hazmat protocols active. Military guards outside. Hospital staff terrified.
Zayne entered with full protective gear, though he knew it wouldn't help if the soldier fully transformed.
The bite was on the soldier's neck. Deep. Already blackening at the edges with infection that wasn't really infection—it was *change*. Cellular transformation. The vampire's venom rewriting DNA in real-time.
"How long ago was he bitten?" Zayne asked the attending physician.
"Forty minutes. At the burial site. One vampire escaped before the collapse, bit him before another soldier killed it."
Forty minutes. The soldier was already mid-transformation.
His skin had gone pale. Eyes bloodshot and dilating wrong. Breathing ragged. Muscles spasming as his body tried to reject and accept the changes simultaneously.
"Doctor Li—" The soldier's voice was hoarse. "Please—I can feel it—I can feel myself—"
"We're going to help you," Zayne said automatically. Even though he knew it was a lie. Knew there was no cure. No treatment. No saving someone who'd been bitten by a creature from Avalon.
He tried anyway.
Anti-viral medication. Blood transfusion. Attempting to flush the venom. Using his ice evol to slow the transformation by lowering body temperature.
Nothing worked.
The soldier's teeth lengthened into fangs. His shoulder blades *cracked* as bone structure shifted to accommodate wings. His eyes turned red.
"Kill me—" The soldier gasped. "Please—before I—before I hurt someone—"
Zayne's hands shook on the medical instruments. "There has to be another way—"
"THERE ISN'T!" The soldier's voice was changing. Deepening. Becoming *wrong*. "I can—I can feel the hunger—I want to—*oh god*—"
The transformation accelerated.
Wings burst from his shoulders in a spray of blood and tissue. His hands became claws. His humanity *left* his eyes, replaced by predatory hunger.
The nurses and staff backed away in horror.
The soldier—the vampire—roared. An inhuman sound. And lunged directly at Zayne.
Zayne ducked.
Pure instinct. Medical precision applied to combat. The vampire crashed into the wall behind him, leaving a crater in the drywall.
No choice. No time. No cure.
Zayne's ice evol exploded outward.
Frost coating the vampire from feet to chest, freezing it solid mid-turn. Crystalline prison holding a creature that had been human minutes ago.
Ice arrows manifested. Dozens of them. Surgical precision aimed at vital points.
The vampire struggled. Tried to break free. Hunger evident in its red eyes.
"I'm sorry," Zayne whispered.
He released the arrows.
They struck simultaneously—chest, head, wings—shattering the frozen creature into fragments that dissolved into ash.
The transformation was complete. The vampire was dead. The soldier was gone.
Silence.
Heavy, horrified silence in Trauma Bay 3.
Zayne stood in the center of the room, covered in frost and ash, hands still formed into weapons, breathing hard.
Everyone stared.
Some with horror. Some with relief. All with the dawning understanding that Dr. Zayne Li—award-winning cardiologist, gentle surgeon, kind doctor—had just killed someone in their hospital.
*Had to kill someone. Had no choice.*
"He asked me to," Zayne said quietly. To the staff. To the military guards. To himself. "Before the transformation completed. He asked—"
"We know." The head nurse's voice was shaky but firm. "We all heard him. You did what he asked. What he needed."
A doctor Zayne vaguely recognized from cardiology approached carefully. "Are you... are you okay?"
No.
"I'm fine." Zayne's ice dissolved slowly. His hands were shaking. "We need—we need to document this. For the other facilities. If soldiers are getting bitten during containment operations—"
"Dr. Li—"
"—we need protocols. Isolation procedures. Transformation timelines. So we can save them before—before—"
He couldn't finish the sentence.
Because there was no saving them. No cure. No treatment except mercy.
Just like in Avalon. Just like it had always been.
The head nurse touched his arm gently. "You should go home. We'll handle the documentation."
"I can't—the patient files—"
"Are being processed. You need to take care of yourself." She looked at him with deep compassion. "That's the third vampire killing you've witnessed this week. The first you've performed yourself. That's—that's not something you just process and move on from."
Zayne looked down at his hands. Still trembling. Still cold from ice evol.
Hands that saved lives in surgery. Hands that killed when necessary.
*Weapon and doctor. Both. Always.*
"Call Nana," the nurse said softly. "She'll want to know you're okay."
Zayne sat in his car, hands gripping the steering wheel, trying to remember how to breathe normally.
He'd killed someone today.
*Mercy kill. He asked. He was already gone. It was necessary.*
But necessary didn't make it easier.
His phone buzzed. Multiple texts from Nana:
Nana:are you ok
Nana:im coming to the hospital
Nana:dont say im not i already left patrol
Nana:if you dont answer in 30 seconds im breaking down the door
Despite everything, Zayne smiled slightly.
Zayne:I'm in the parking lot. I'm okay.
Nana:LIAR but im almost there stay put
She arrived seven minutes later, parking her motorcycle sideways across two spots and running to his car.
Zayne got out to meet her. She crashed into him immediately—full-force hug that would have broken ribs if he wasn't enhanced.
"You killed someone," she said against his chest. Not a question. A fact she'd already accepted.
"Vampire transformation. Too fast. No cure." His voice was hollow. "He asked me to."
"I know." Nana pulled back to look at his face. "I know. And I'm so sorry you had to—that it was—"
"I'm a doctor," Zayne said quietly. "I'm supposed to save lives. Not end them."
"You're also Version 06. Enhanced. Weapon." She cupped his face gently. "And sometimes weapons have to do terrible things so others don't have to. So others stay safe."
"Doesn't make it easier."
"No. It doesn't." She pressed her forehead to his. "But you're not alone. I'm here. And we'll get through this together."
Zayne closed his eyes and held her. Grounding himself in her presence. In the knowledge that she understood. That she'd killed too. That they'd both become weapons in order to protect.
Weapon and doctor. Specimen and person. Both.
Always.
Day 76.
More facilities discovered.
More transformations.
More impossible choices.
But surviving together.
Always together.
.
.
.
.
.
To be continued.