The air inside the abandoned steel mill was thick with smoke and decay. General Viktor 'Bloodfang' Kruger strode through the dimly lit corridors, his knife glinting under the flickering industrial lights. His blood-red beret sat firmly on his head, and his black fatigues bore the marks of recent combat—gashes, bullet grazes, and streaks of dried blood.
Behind him, his undead soldiers lurched forward—former rebels, now stripped of their humanity, their hollow eyes glowing faintly with the cursed serum flowing through their veins. Their shuffling movements echoed against the cold metal walls. His army was growing.
Kruger stopped as he reached a large steel door, dented from previous explosions. The last remnants of the enemy's forces were barricaded inside. His lips curled into a cruel smirk.
"Sergeant Rook," he called out.
From the shadows, Sergeant Darius 'Hellhound' Rook emerged—his face smeared with war paint, his combat shotgun resting against his shoulder. "The rats are cornered, sir. What's the plan?"
Kruger unsheathed his combat knife, running his fingers along the serrated edge. "We burn them out."
With a simple hand signal, the horde surged forward, their inhuman moans reverberating through the steel mill. The doors rattled as dozens of rotting fists pounded against them, their decayed fingernails clawing for flesh.
Inside, the rebels trembled.
"We can't hold them back!" one soldier cried, gripping his rifle with shaking hands.
Captain Elias Moore—his skin pale and sweat-drenched from the infection spreading through his veins—leaned against the wall, his breath ragged. The serum was inside him now, corrupting his body. He clutched his side, feeling the unnatural coldness creeping through his bloodstream.
"We fight," he managed to say through gritted teeth. "We go down shooting."
A thunderous boom split the air.
Kruger's forces had detonated the barricade.
Flames and smoke billowed into the room as zombies poured in, their rotten hands grabbing at the living. Gunfire erupted—panicked and desperate—but the undead were relentless.
Kruger stepped through the chaos like a harbinger of death, his knife flashing as he slit a rebel's throat in one clean motion. Another came at him with a combat knife, but he sidestepped, plunging his own blade into the man's gut and twisting it viciously.
The fight was over in minutes.
The last rebel screamed as Sergeant Rook smashed his skull against the concrete wall, leaving a grotesque smear behind.
Kruger turned to Moore, who was on his knees, his body trembling as the serum took hold.
"You feel it now, don't you?" Kruger murmured. "The hunger. The power."
Moore's breathing slowed. His eyes darkened, his pupils dilating as the last remnants of his humanity faded.
Kruger knelt beside him, gripping his chin.
Moore's lifeless gaze snapped to him, and a wicked grin spread across his face.
A new commander was born.