A dark cloud collides with it’s surrounding white clouds under Natalius’s feet.
He’s carrying someone

The emotions in the heroes's eyes range from sadness, to anger, to disbelief.
They point their weapons at him, ready to finally end this decade long farce.

—————————————————————————————————————

I can hear the rough wheels of the bus, ringing through my headphones. The music isn’t loud enough. 20 more minutes till I get home so I can be humiliated. The music is my only solace. I look out of the window.

“There isn’t much use in doing this”
I say this to myself. After all, I’ve seen this exact road 20 million times.

‘Maybe.’
But it doesn’t stop me from doing it.

The lady behind me most definitely thinks I’m insane. Talking to yourself isn’t something sane people do after all.

I look down at my phone
[ Winter Fields ]

“It’s summer though”
I’m still whispering to my-

“Sure doesn’t feel like it”

I’ve been interrupted? There aren't many people on this bus at this hour, and I certainly wasn’t expecting someone to interrupt me. Most normal people wouldn’t bother replying to someone talking to themselves after all. It is the advent of a technological age after all. Even then . . . I was whispering.

The next song starts
[ Requiem K.626: Lacrimosa ]

I look at my new bus mate as she walks to the chair in front of me. Her short silky silver hair fashioned in a bob-cut bounces as she sits. She turns around. I’m shaken. Were my eyes too glued to her to notice she noticed me? She smirks.
“You better buckle up” I’m confused . . . What does she mean by that? I’ve literally never met this bitch before. I guess it’s best if I’m straightforward.

“What do you mean, there isn’t even any seat-”

An explosion.

The noise carries itself forcefully through the windows as they shatter. My back is slammed to the ceiling of the bus. My head hurts. My head hurts. My head hurts. My head hurts. My head hurts. My head hurts. My head hurts. My head hurts. My head hurts. My head hurts. My head hurts. My head hurts. My head hurts. My head hurts. My head hurts . . .

The bus is in flames, I can feel the plastic sticking to my skin, and seeing how I’m on the ceiling of the bus it must’ve been flipped over by the explosion. Everyone is probably dead. I can feel the burning plastic on my hands, so I try standing up. No such luck. Seems I’ve broken my leg, but for some reason, I’m not freaking out as much as I thought I’d be for my first time breaking a bone. I look up to see one of the passengers with their neck snapped. Their empty eyes stare straight at me, and the longer I look the faster I can feel myself go crazy with the pain. My phone buzzes in my pocket. A text.

‘How was your job interview ?’

It’s my dad. I can’t help but laugh to myself at the comment, as I think to myself.
‘I definitely didn’t get the job’ But before I can even get the chuckle out, a searing pain travels my back.

“I’ve really gotta get the fuck out of here”

I start dragging myself out of the bus to the chorus of the song playing through my headphones. Classical music like this fit perfectly and I couldn’t help but notice how it helped soothe me even though I felt like I was about to die. But finally, as I dug my hands into concrete, and as the music crawled along into its crescendo I was greeted by a sight that would forever be burned into my mind.

People’s body parts were melting into the concrete, and the remains of their guts were seen scattered in random places. The smell of burnt meat could be seen in the air as there was a thick red fog that quietly started setting down. People like me were dragging themselves on the concrete but they were missing entire body parts. I could see one guy crawling on his fours as parts of his brain sloshed out of his skull. A girl carrying her own leg as she cried in pain. A boy struggling to keep his eyes open as he realized he no longer had the lower part of his body.

I wanted to look away but I couldn’t. I would have been stuck on the concrete for another hour if I hadn’t heard:
“ONE IS ALIVE AND WHOLE GRAB HIM AND LET’S GET OUT OF HERE”
A man with a dirtied white shirt and cargo shorts ran towards me, and as a hint of relief came across his face he hurled me on his back and ran towards a nearby car. I close my eyes.