Five men in Hazmat suits moved slowly and cautiously through the streets of New York City. The bodies around them were still, having ceased their wild convulsing. Something was wrong. You could sense it in the air, almost taste it. It was dusk, and soon the men would have to return to the helicopter and in the words of their leader, "Get the hell out of that ghost-town." The hustle and bustle that was so often associated with New York had stopped, being replaced by a deathly hush. The group leader, his suit pure white with a yellow stripe, waved his gun and said "Okay men. Let's check out the situation in that building and then get back to base." He was met with a mixture of relief and horror. "Go in there?" asked on man, horrified. "Yes Johnson, go in there." The lead man went over to the door. "Locked!" he shouted. "Get back!" There was a small explosion and the door disappeared in a flurry of broken glass and twisted metal. They filed in, guns cocked, the the barrel mounted lights shining. "Damn..." said a man in a mixture of horror and awe. They were surrounded by bodies, twisted and deformed, and though they did not know it, were in the lobby of the building that had once belonged to a company called Hades Tech. Inc. "All dead," said the demolition man. The commander turned. "Let's go upstairs and then get the hell out of here. This place gives me the creeps." they filed up the stairway and walked down a dark hallway. "In here," said the leader. They entered a what may have once been the break room. Around twenty bodies littered the floor. The door closed slowly behind them, but no one noticed. Johnson screamed as he saw a flash of movement in the line of light. "There's something in here!" he said quietly. "don't be such a baby, John-" the commander screamed. One of the men saw him being dragged into a a dark corner by something. Johnson shrieked as something leaped at him from the darkness. Another man turned and fired, and he saw a shape slump to the floor. "Jesus!" he said as he looked at the thing. It was the last word he ever spoke before he had his head torn off from behind him. Johnson ran for the door, pulling at the handle, but it wouldn't open. Something leaped onto his back and tore into his flesh. Another man was saying something into his radio when something opened a huge gash in his stomach, spilling his guts out onto the floor. The last man, the demolition man, shot the lock and ran into the hall, slamming the door behind him, but before he did he pulled a grenade from his belt, and removing the pin with his teeth, lobbed it into the room. He sprinted down the stairs. He wielded two machine guns, one which he had salvaged from one of the corpses of his fallen comrades. He ran into the lobby, reducing the creatures into a fine spray of red mist with the weapons. He burst out into the street, sweating and laughing wildly. As he rested, panting, he felt something touch him. He looked up. hundreds of creatures looked back at him.

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