TWO YEARS BEFORE THE OUTBREAK...

Ares, now proudly going by the self-titled alias Bloodletter, stood in a hallway in the middle of a large pool of blood. One of his infamous arm blades was protruded out of his right arm, which he just used recently to massacre more guards. Now they were scattered all over the floor in pieces, waiting to be devoured by the test subjects.

Bloodletter paused in place as he heard screaming occur from the end of the corridor. A soldier missing his left arm appeared from around the corner, blasting his gun at an unseen enemy. But before his gun could make contact with his target, another feral creature emerged from the shadows and took a large bite out of his neck. The bite was so deep that his head dangled off the rest of his body by a small strip of flesh, and blood sprayed out of his wound like a geyser. He then collapsed to the floor and was left to be ripped apart by the rest of the test subjects.

The feral creature turned toward Bloodletter. Most of its body was hidden in shadow, but Bloodletter noticed it was different from the rest of the undead test subjects. For starters, it was one of a few female test subjects he had ever encountered in the facility, and he could only tell by her long hair and curvier body compared to the other creatures. The most eye-catching detail, however, was the fact her lips and cheeks seemed to be peeled off, revealing a sharp monstrous overbite of fangs sprinkled with blood. Her eyes were devoid of color like the other test subjects, instead filled with a sinister level of sadism and anger that couldn't be found in the other creatures aimlessly wandering the facility.

"What the hell is up with you?" Bloodletter asked.

"Just woke up like this," the creature hissed. Literally. Her abnormal teeth caused her to slur her S's, so the lisp mixed with her raspy voice and ash-colored skin reminded Bloodletter of a snake. "I didn't ask for any of it. Just like your bloody magic tricks, I just discovered it recently and took advantage of it."

"You seem pretty resourceful compared to the others," Bloodletter continued. "Do you remember how it was when you were alive?"

The fanged woman emitted a growl reminiscent of a wolf. "Yes, I do."

"And what would you like to do next?"

"I was gonna pay Hades back for carving off most of my face, but I found him with his skull split in half and most of his brain splattered on the floor next to him. I'm guessing you got to him first."

Bloodletter slid his helmet off and held it beside him. "Guilty as charged."

"Huh," the fanged woman replied. "You don't look half bad for a corpse. And I'm guessing you had a reason to kill Hades so gruesomely?"

"He killed my daughter and broadcasted killing her to the entire facility through the speakers."

The fanged creature raised a brow. "Fucking hell. All I did was bite his heart out of his chest, but after what you just said he did, I'm surprised he even had a heart."

Bloodletter paused. He could feel another heat signature moving in. Multiple actually. They were all clustered together into one hot ball of heat approaching him from above. He then noticed that not only could he hear the rapid pattering of a propeller spinning, he detected two large heat sources identical in size and temperature.

Two helicopters were approaching the facility, ready to pick up Schaefer and anyone who could've possibly survived the horde's attacks.

"You sense that, too?" the fanged woman asked, staring up at the ceiling.

"Yes, I do," Bloodletter replied with a sadistic smirk. "You might want to step back."

The fanged woman did as she was told and took a few steps back. Bloodletter sliced his arm with the blade he kept in his pocket before his death and waited patiently as the blood floated out of his wound in a stream. The stream rotated around his arm in large red circles, and a dark crimson sphere grew in size at the tip of his fingers, glowing bright red as it powered up.

"Fucking hell," the fanged woman gasped. "That Ambrosia really blessed you with awesome power."

"Oh, I'm starting to like it, too," Bloodletter replied as he raised his hand to the ceiling. "But there is no way in hell I consider this a blessing."

Bloodletter flicked his hand out like if he was shooing something away, and the fiery red ball blasted through the ceiling. The ball continued digging through the roof of the facility until it made it outside and collided with the steel surface of the helicopter's exterior. The crashing sound of the orb against the helicopter was followed by a loud explosion. Blood and shrapnel began to rain down from the sky.

Bloodletter and the fanged woman bolted away from where the remains of the helicopter fell and watched from a distance as they crashed down through the ceiling. An incinerated ball of scrap buried itself into the floor, a large fire dancing out of the window where the pilot used to see through. Splotches of red decorated the metal surface of the chopper. The pilot himself was splattered all over the helicopter's interior, completely unrecognizable since the only parts of him still in tact were his legs. There were only two other people in the helicopter with him, and both of their corpses were engulfed in flames.

"Now..." Bloodletter said, "where's the other one?"

He looked back up at another source of heat, one significantly smaller than the helicopter. It was moving toward the biggest heat source. Once he connected the dots, he realized it must've been Schaefer approaching the chopper.

"I don't think so," he growled. He swung his arm toward the ceiling and unleashed an array of red spheres. Some of them floated through the massive hole left behind by the fallen helicopter, but many scattered around the hall instead.

And once they started detonating, the fanged woman emphasized her shock with her new favorite phrase. "Fucking hell!"

An unending series of explosions rippled through the facility. The fanged woman jumped through a door to find cover as the walls and ceiling disappeared around her and Bloodletter in a dust cloud of rubble and sparks. Everything untouched by the blood bombs were splattered crimson, and the two of them proved to be the only ones closest to the epicenter to survive.

"SCHAEFER!" Bloodletter screamed.

And when the dust and soot cleared, he climbed through the rubble and clawed his way to the roof of the facility. He didn't destroy the entire building, but his bombs left behind a colossal crater big enough to fit half a squadron of military vehicles inside. The amount of dismembered limbs and splattered innards suggested that he killed many of his own fellow undead test subjects, but he didn't care. The only life he cared about ending was Schaefer.

"Schaefer!" Bloodletter shouted as he maneuvered up the mountain of rubble. "When I get my hands on you, I'm gonna rip you limb from limb and leave your head for last!"

Once he reached the top of the facility, he was greeted by the grey morning sky. There was no sight of the sun anywhere. He never knew where this prison was located, and the endless sea of trees surrounding him didn't help in the slightest. The last time he saw the outside world it was snowing, and he was being led to an APC by Simon and two other guards back at his home in Lancaster.

He looked back up at the sky. Schaefer was already too far away. The helicopter was hundreds of feet in the air and almost a mile away. He couldn't comprehend how fast and how easy it was for Schaefer to just...vanish. No consequences for what he had done to innocent people. He could mold the story into whatever he wanted now.

Schaefer could turn himself into the hero. Even worse, he could make it seem like if all of his victims never even existed. He wouldn't be a madman. In fact, he wouldn't even be important. None of them would. He'd just be a regular citizen and a stranger to many.

Bloodletter held out a new orb of his own blood and aimed his palm toward the helicopter, but he knew from there it would only make a scratch. His blood bombs could only go so far.

He was alone in his resting place. Surrounded by dozens of wandering lost souls forever trapped as feral, withering versions of their former selves. Trapped with the corpse of his own daughter.

Sarah!

Bloodletter quickly scrambled down the mountain of rubble and ran back to the room he woke up in. He passed by the fanged lady, who was still too cautious to emerge from her hiding place. He ran back up the stairs and found himself in the original hallway.

Now all that inhabited it were the dead.

Undead test subjects roamed the corridor consuming the flesh of those lucky enough to stay dead. Blood was splattered all over the walls and floors like the work of a demented artist. He knew Simon, Artemis, and the others were dead in the infirmary, but he didn't need to feel the extra guilt of seeing Artemis, his only link to his daughter, dead on the floor with half of her face missing. He just continued sullenly trudging down the hall until he reached his old sleeping quarters.

He nudged the door open. There Sarah's corpse laid, covered by the sheets he used to rest underneath. Ever since he woke up, the smell of death was present everywhere he went, and he hated to admit he couldn't tell who gave off the scent the most. He approached the bed and slowly uncovered her body.

Several footsteps were heard outside the room, and Bloodletter looked back to see a crowd of feral creatures surrounding the entrance to the room, blood and drool oozing out of their mouths.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" he growled.

"Fleeeeeesh," they hissed in unison. The closet one to Bloodletter, a bald male with half of his face peeled off, slowly approached him.

Bloodletter could literally feel his blood boil. "She does not belong to you!"

And with that, his crimson razor-wire trick activated on its own and blasted out of his flesh. He didn't care about the long lacerations stretching across his chest or that his clothes were ripped to shreds by what he had done. He only cared that the wires had blasted every creature in front of him to pieces.

As his injuries proceeded to heal themselves, he returned his view to Sarah and brushed his hand through her hair. He accidentally smudged his own blood across her forehead, but he realized it could help repel the other creatures away. After dotting other parts of her body with bits of his own blood, he lifted her in his arms and carried her out of the room.

The undead test subjects parted ways for Bloodletter and his daughter as he made his way down the hall. He kept his head down, focusing only on the pale, peaceful face of his deceased daughter. A single tear trailed down his cheek as multiple hypothetical visions of what things would've been like if none of this had happened filled his head.

What have I done? he asked himself.

He journeyed down the stairs and tried to find the garage. Even if the rest of them wouldn't get the proper burial, Bloodletter wanted to make sure that his daughter would get the proper treatment. It had been a while since somebody actually treated her like a human being.

As he made his way down a new hallway, Bloodletter noticed the test subjects stared at the two of them in curiosity. They didn't glare at Sarah like if she was their next meal. In fact, they almost seemed sympathetic, almost aware of the funeral in progress. And the ones who showed the most sympathy were the reanimated corpses of Atlas and Hermes. However, Bloodletter remembered Atlas was going by his real name, Harry.

Harry and Hermes waited by the side of the hall watching as Bloodletter carried his daughter's body to the nearest exit. Both of them hung their heads down so their eyes were hidden in shadow, but their expressions resembled that of mourners at a funeral rather than the hungry creatures they'd been reduced to. Even the fanged lady did what she could to pay her respects by bowing her head.

Eventually, Bloodletter reached the garage. Just like everywhere else in the facility, corpses were scattered throughout the area, some laying on the ground peacefully and others wandering around and devouring the peaceful ones. The door leading outside was wide open, and Bloodletter could see a long green field, with two trees standing beside each other like if they marked an entrance to a better place.

You've always belonged out there, he thought to himself while looking down at his daughter.

Bloodletter trudged to the exit and stepped outside. A cold breeze blasted his face, but it was no match for the infinite coldness of death that he would forever be cursed with. He continued walking until he reached the two trees and took one more glance of the outside world. It was hard to believe it seemed more harmless than the smaller world he was trapped in for the last three years.

Then he proceeded to dig.

He didn't care how many undead test subjects were watching. He didn't care that he wasn't using a shovel. He also didn't care that the rest of them would probably never be discovered again. He knew they'd be forgotten. But as long as he walked the earth, he would make sure he'd never forget Sarah.

Eventually the hole was about five feet deep. He carefully placed Sarah's body in there and proceeded to refill the hole with dirt. His daughter's life was no longer in his hands. She was somewhere else, hopefully somewhere safer and happier. If there was an afterlife, Bloodletter hoped whoever was there alongside her would take care of her and offer her the protection he failed to give.

Once her body had vanished into the earth, he collapsed to his knees. He placed his helmet down by his side. And the tears that trailed down his cheeks seemed to carry with them the last shreds of his humanity.

He was a Deadman.

* * *

Schaefer played around with the syringe containing his modified Ambrosia as the helicopter made its way back to London. Besides holding the one thing that could distinguish him from common human beings, he also carried with him a fabricated story. One that would turn his victims into someone else's target. Through his new story, everything that happened was never his fault.

"Can't believe one of our choppers went down," the pilot said. "What the hell were you and your colleagues experimenting with in there?"

"A cure," Schaefer replied, still keeping his sights on the bright blue bots floating around in his syringe. "That facility was dedicated to studying the most lethal diseases in the world in order to find a cure for them."

"Then what's with all the explosions?"

"Some of our patients weren't too cooperative with the staff. One poor bastard's mind was wearing away due to his sickness, and he retaliated rather violently."

"Where are your colleagues?"

Schaefer paused. "They didn't make it." He spoke in a sorrowful tone, almost as if he were on the verge of tears, in order to cover up the truth. "In order to save the rest of humanity, they demanded they be euthanized. I had to leave them there to die."

"I apologize, sir," the pilot replied. "And may I ask what that glowing syringe is?"

Schaefer rose it up to his face so the pilot could take a quick glimpse. "My colleagues gave me this before taking their own lives. They claimed this is an antidote for the parasite that infected them. They ordered me to take it to prevent the sickness from getting out."

"With all due respect, sir, if they didn't want to let it spread, why did they let you get away?"

"To warn the rest of England. I have a family, y'know. I've already demanded support and firepower for when we return to the facility to eradicate it, but we need to prepare for any possible outbreaks."

"How?"

Schaefer clapped his hands together. "Barricades, safe havens, increased medical checkups. There's a slight chance we may need to restrict the citizens of some of their freedoms."

The pilot winced. "That's gonna take a lot of convincing, but whatever you say, Dr. Schaefer."

"Please." Schaefer paused to inject the Ambrosia into his arm. "Call me Troy. Better yet, call me Colonel Schaefer."

And the helicopter continued its journey to London, years away from the worst mistake Schaefer has ever made.

*Part 2 was actually supposed to end with this chapter in order to keep the story sections equal at 25 chapters per part, but Wattpad's recommended word limit of 2,000 prevented me from extending the chapters (despite the fact many of them surpass 2,000 words). As a result, Part 2 might go on for about 4 or 5 more chapters. But I guarantee you: it's worth it!*