Story 643: Steel and Rot

The industrial complex loomed in the distance, its rusted pipes and towering smokestacks now lifeless relics of a world that once thrived. A thick mist coiled around the skeletal remains of machinery, twisting like ghostly fingers. General Viktor "Bloodfang" Kruger advanced through the wreckage, his boots crunching over brittle bone fragments and spent shell casings.

His crimson beret barely shifted as a gust of wind howled through the ruined structure. He was close.

The enemy had made their stand here—Wolfe’s remaining forces and his undead abominations. Kruger tightened his grip around his combat knife, its blade stained from a dozen fresh kills. He would end this tonight.

Behind him, Sergeant Darius "Hellhound" Rook moved in formation, his rifle sweeping the dark corners of the structure. "Still no movement, sir," he muttered.

Kruger’s lips curled into a grim smirk. "They’re waiting. Let’s not keep them."