A Night in the Necropolis

The rain hammered the cracked pavement, pooling in uneven craters that mirrored the glow of fractured neon signs hanging limply from empty buildings. Steam curled from grates, spiraling into the cold, wet sky like the ghosts of a city that forgot it ever lived. Beneath the dull roar of rain and the occasional distant scream, the tap of her boots echoed with precision—a metronome of determination.

Kara adjusted the red leather vest that clung to her black shirt, the fabric damp from the rain yet slick against her skin. Her blue jeans were stained, partly with grime from the alley scramble earlier, and partly with blood—none of it hers. Her hands gripped the sleek matte-black handgun tightly, her knuckles white beneath the pressure. She didn’t lower it for a second, her eyes darting from shadow to shadow, the sharp angular cut of her jet-black bob brushing against her pale cheek as she twisted her head toward a sudden noise.

In the distance, a building rose like a jagged monolith. The Federation Central Archives once held the memories of an entire era, encased in tablets of silicon and stories; now it was just another husk, battered by the collapse. As thunderstorms lit up the tar-black sky behind it, Kara exhaled sharply and whispered to herself, “Just a job. One more corridor.” But her pulse betrayed her words.

The Survivors Don’t Wait

Her comms crackled in her ear. “Kara,” a voice hissed through the static. “You’re getting close. Heat signatures… four, maybe five, at the lobby. Weird movements. Same as earlier.” The voice belonged to Devin, her last link to anyone alive who still trusted her. “Watch your six.”

“Weird?” she responded quietly, tightening her grip. “Define weird.”

“You ever see a subway rat on a sugar-high with three legs? Like if it were dipped in acid and grew extra… claws?”

Her stomach churned. “Got it.”

Another crackle signaled his retreat back into silence. As the steps of her boots drew her toward the yawning entrance of the building, she adjusted her gun, its sleek weight familiar and reassuring. She stepped deliberately, every movement measured, the black shirt beneath her vest already clinging tightly against her lithe frame from the tension of anticipation and rain.

The lobby was cavernous—and foreboding. It was illuminated faintly by intermittent bursts of lightning that crawled through smashed windows. Papers fluttered across the floor like restless whispers. Then came the sound—a guttural scraping that sent ice down her spine.

Unwelcome Guests

A shadow unfurled in the far corner—a figure hunched low to the ground, its limbs grotesquely long and writhing like something mid-evolution. Kara took another step, and her boot scuffed the floor. That was all it took. The creature’s head snapped toward her with an unnatural speed, black ichor dripping from a jagged grin that stretched too far to be human.

Her finger tightened, and the gun barked. One shot, straight through the creature’s temple—or where temple ought to have been. It slumped forward, collapsing, but Kara knew better than to celebrate. One was never alone.

Sure enough, more shadows leapt from perches she hadn’t seen—ripped ceilings, doorway corners, floor vents. The creatures scuttled like insects, their claws scraping through the ruin of the once-majestic lobby. Kara fired again, her nerves steady but her body charged with fear she’d never admit aloud. As the shots rang out, the booming echoes swallowed her reality whole.

Her back hit an overturned desk as she reloaded. The magazine slid into place almost seamlessly, her years of training making sure even panic couldn’t falter her hands. She pivoted, unloading a fresh round into the nearest threat. Each skipped heartbeat synchronized with a shot. And still, they kept coming.

A Twist of Memory

Just as the last of the invaders crumpled at her feet, the building quaked violently. Kara pressed herself to the wall, her chest rising and falling as sweat mingled with rain on her brow. Dust fell like morbid snow. She locked her jaw, pushing forward toward the elevator shaft she’d spotted on the far end.

The mission wasn’t about survival. It wasn’t about taking down monsters, either. Not really. The disk she needed—the Federation encryption key—contained the only documentation of humanity’s collapse years ago. The proof of which leaders sold out their people during the virus’ onset. Devin had convinced her this was the endgame. Evidence of betrayal on a scale humanity had never seen.

But as she clambered into the broken elevator shaft, her smaller frame barely fitting through the gap, that gnawing doubt crept in—was anything still salvageable? Was anyone even listening?

Into the Unknown

As she climbed the exposed cables, nine stories above nothingness, she looked down once but quickly regretted it. A noise—like static and bone—rose from the floors below. Survivors? No. They didn’t breathe like that. “Move, Kara,” she whispered, more to push herself than anything else. Her red leather vest clung tighter now, the rain and exertion sculpting it onto her slender frame. The fabric rubbed against her as a visceral reminder: She was still alive—for now.

Before she could finish her thought, she reached the top of the shaft. Pulling herself up, she staggered into what must’ve been the core data center once. Multiple dimly glowing terminals hummed weakly, their flickering lights fighting desperately against the dark. In the middle of the room, a pedestal stood, adorned with the encryption disk—a relic no bigger than her palm but containing the weight of civilization’s sins.

Her fingers brushed the cold metal surface when the sound of scuttling claws erupted all around her—first above, then below. Her gun was ready again, and this time, there would be no retreat. As figures spilled into the room, bared teeth gleaming, Kara smirked grimly.

“If this is the end,” she muttered, “let’s make it loud.”

Genre: Action/Thriller

The Source…check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: Resident Evil Cosplay: Black Shirt, Red Vest, Blue Jeans Inspiration

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