Fire in the Hall

A massive explosion rocked the morning air, sending birds scattering from the trees. The thunderous boom was followed by the tinkling of glass and the distant wail of car alarms.

"Jesus Christ!" Thompson yelped, nearly dropping his weapon. "What the hell was that?"

"Mario's," Sarah said grimly, already breaking into a run. "Told you those rats were up to no good."

Smith's radio crackled to life with urgent chatter. His expression shifted from mild amusement to something darker, more predatory. "Well, it seems our rodent friends have decided to accelerate matters."

They emerged from the tree line to find Mario's Pizzeria - or what was left of it - engulfed in flames. Black smoke billowed into the morning sky, and men in hazmat suits were already establishing a perimeter with military efficiency.

"KEEP BACK!" One of Smith's men barked through a megaphone. "THIS IS A QUARANTINE ZONE. ALL CIVILIANS MUST EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY."

Danny tried to push past the security line, but two agents materialized to block his path. "This is my jurisdiction-"

"Not anymore, Sheriff," Smith's voice carried an edge of steel. "This situation has evolved beyond local law enforcement capabilities."

Sarah bristled. "You can't just-"

"I assure you, Deputy Chen, I can and I will." Smith straightened his tie, seemingly oblivious to the chaos around him. "Rodriguez, ensure our local friends maintain a safe distance. I need to assess the situation."

Thompson watched as more of Smith's men emerged from unmarked vehicles, carrying equipment that looked more appropriate for a war zone than a small-town pizza parlor. "Hey, are those flame throwers? Because that seems like overkill for rats, even big ones..."

"Thompson," Sarah grabbed his arm, "shut up."

A growing crowd of onlookers had gathered, including Bob and several other volunteers who seemed reluctant to leave despite the orders.

"This ain't right," Bob muttered, clutching his hunting rifle. "First the football team, now this? Something stinks worse than week-old pepperoni."

Smith strode toward a massive black command truck, his movements precise and purposeful. Inside, screens displayed thermal imaging and what appeared to be satellite feeds of the area. A harried-looking technician snapped to attention.

"Report," Smith's command cut through the ambient chaos.

Inside the command vehicle, screens flickered with thermal imagery showing scattered hot spots throughout the pizzeria's ruins. Smith stood with perfect posture, his expression unreadable as various technicians and agents moved around him with practiced efficiency.

"Sir," a heavily armed operative spoke up, his tactical gear bearing no identifying markers, "we had to move quickly. The situation deteriorated rapidly."

"Explain," Smith's voice was soft but carried unmistakable authority.

The operative's face remained professionally neutral, but something like excitement flickered in his eyes. "Two employees were partially consumed. They became aggressive, exhibited enhanced strength and accelerated healing. When they attacked the customers..." He paused, letting the implications sink in.

"Collateral damage?" Smith inquired, studying a thermal readout.

"Total, sir. We contained the immediate threat and implemented cleanup protocols. No surviving witnesses."

Thompson's voice carried from outside: "Hey, what's with all the gasoline trucks?"

"For the fire, Officer Thompson," Rodriguez called back smoothly. "Standard hazmat procedure."

Inside the van, Smith's lip curled slightly. "And our transformed friends?"

"Neutralized with extreme prejudice, sir." The operative allowed himself a small smile. "They proved resilient, but nothing we couldn't handle. The fire will take care of any remaining evidence."

Another agent approached, this one carrying a tablet displaying security footage. "Sir, you'll want to see this. The transformation process - it's accelerating."

Smith watched the footage with clinical interest as one of the infected employees literally tore through three customers before being taken down. "Fascinating. The muscle density alone suggests a complete cellular restructuring within minutes. But what a grotesque transformation. Feels like one of the familiars had gone feral. But not quite right."

Smith's fingers drummed against the command console, his perfectly manicured nails making a rhythmic tap that somehow cut through the chaos outside. "The origin point. What do we know?"

The technician pulled up a map overlay, tracking patterns of thermal signatures and reported incidents. "Initial analysis suggested the pizzeria was ground zero, but..." He hesitated.

"Speak freely," Smith's voice carried an edge of impatience. "We're all friends here. Well, most of us."

"The rat mutations don't align with our time line. The molecular degradation suggests they were exposed at least 24 hours before the pizzeria incident."

Smith's eyes narrowed. "Then we have a vector point we missed. Unacceptable." He keyed his radio. "Rodriguez, gather the tracking team. We need to expand our search parameters."

Outside, Sarah watched as more heavily armed operatives poured into the area. "Since when does the FBI pack that kind of hardware?"

"Maybe they're compensating for something," Thompson offered, then wilted under her glare. "What? I'm just saying, those guns are pretty big..."

Outside the van, Rodriguez emerged from the smoke, his movements predatory despite his professional demeanor. "Sir, tracking team reports multiple trails leading back toward the old Mall."

"The abandoned one?" Danny frowned. "That place has been closed for years. Nothing there but homeless camps and teenagers looking for trouble."

Smith's laugh was like silk over steel. "Oh, I suspect there's quite a bit more than that, Sheriff. Rodriguez, take Alpha team and sweep the location. I want samples, surveillance, and..." His smile showed too many teeth, "...at least one live specimen."

"Sir," Rodriguez's eyes gleamed with something that might have been hunger, "what about potential... complications?"

"Handle them with your usual discretion." Smith straightened his already immaculate tie. "Just ensure there are no witnesses to any necessary adaptations."

Thompson looked confused. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Sarah muttered, "that we're being kept out of the loop on purpose."

Inside the command vehicle, a technician called out, "Sir! Analysis from the advance team at the mall."

Smith returned back in the van. The screens displayed thermal images of the mall's interior - a maze of cold spots and strange heat signatures that didn't match any normal biological patterns.

"Interesting," Smith purred. "Very interesting indeed. What's the composition?"

"Degraded but still active viral markers, sir. The rats must have consumed contaminated material."

Smith's expression shifted to one of genuine fascination. "Nature finding a way to adapt our work. How delightfully unexpected." He studied the readouts. "And the original source?"

"Destroyed, sir. But the residual material is still virulent enough to trigger transformations if ingested. The rats must have..."

"Found themselves a midnight snack," Smith finished. "With rather dramatic results." He tapped a command into the console. "Authorization Omega-Seven granted. Full weapons release for all field teams. But I want at least one specimen captured alive. The data could be invaluable."

Rodriguez's voice crackled over the radio. "Sir, we've got movement in the mall. Multiple contacts, showing similar thermal patterns to our pizzeria friends."

"Excellent." Smith's smile was predatory. "You may engage with extreme prejudice. Just remember - we need one for study. And Rodriguez?" His voice dropped to a silky whisper. "If any of our people need to... how I say, adapt to the situation, ensure there are no surviving eyes. We wouldn't want to compromise operational security."

"Understood, sir." The smile was audible in Rodriguez's voice. "Permission to go loud?"

"By all means." Smith checked his watch. "Just try to maintain some semblance of plausible deniability. We don't want to attract undue attention."

As if on cue, the sound of heavy weapons fire erupted from the direction of the mall.

"Jesus!" Thompson yelped. "That sounds like a war zone!"

"Pest control can be rather intensive," Smith said smoothly. "Perhaps you and your colleagues should establish a perimeter to keep civilians at a safe distance. We wouldn't want anyone getting hurt by our rat problem."

Danny watched as more black vehicles converged on the mall, their occupants moving with military precision. "This is about more than rats, isn't it?"

"Sheriff," Smith's voice was almost gentle, "there are some questions that are better left unasked. For everyone's safety."