The Extra becomes the Villain's Bodyguard-Chapter 32: Blackout.

The moment Neville’s fingers closed around the dead creature’s wrist, its skin burned against his palm—not with heat, but with something unnatural, like static electricity humming beneath leathery flesh. The stench hit him full-force now, sewer stench.

"Jesus Christ," Rodriguez gagged, hefting the corpse’s other arm over his shoulder. The thing was lighter than it looked, its bones hollow like a bird’s, but the way its limbs twitched post-mortem made Neville’s stomach turn.

"Move, move!" Javier barked, covering their six with his rifle as they backtracked toward the base. The treeline rustled—not from wind, but from something scurrying just out of sight.

Then the radio crackled.

"Bravo 3-2, this is Ironhold Command—report status, over."

Rodriguez keyed his mic, breath ragged. "Command, we’ve got—shit, I don’t know what these things are. Five hostiles engaged and neutralized. Bringing one back for—"

A screech cut through the night.

Something lurched from the bushes—another creature, this one missing half its face from gunfire, but still clawing forward, yellowed fangs gnashing.

"CONTACT REAR!" Neville yelled, dropping the corpse and swinging his M4 up.

Three-round burst.

The creature’s skull splattered like overripe fruit, its body collapsing in a twitching heap.

"Faster!" Rodriguez roared.

They broke into a sprint, boots pounding dirt, the fissure’s glow casting long, warped shadows ahead. The base’s outer perimeter was just visible... barbed wire, sandbags, and the silhouettes of stunned sentries staring as they stumbled into the light.

The lieutenant’s face went pale as they dumped the creature’s body onto the metal briefing table. Intel officers and a CDC rep recoiled at the stench.

"What the hell is that?" the lieutenant hissed.

"Don’t know, sir," Rodriguez panted. "But there’s more out there. They’re fast, they’re tough, and they don’t go down easy."

The CDC rep leaned in with a gloved hand, prying open the creature’s mouth. "Dental structure suggests omnivorous."

A gurgling scream cut him off.

Outside, a sentry’s rifle stuttered, then went silent.

Then the fissure flared.

White light erupted from the rift, so bright it bleached the color from the world. Neville threw up an arm to cover his eyes. The ground trembled, and then...Wind?

A gale-force howl ripped from the fissure, kicking up dust, debris, and the stench of something rotting.

When Neville’s vision cleared, the light dimmed to a sickly glow.

And the creatures poured out.

Not five.

Dozens.

Skinny, green, slobbering horrors, their potbellies shaking as some scrambled forward on all fours deranged, the ones in the back had clubs and rusted blades in hand. Their eyes reflected the fissure’s light... red glowing but pupil-less.

"OPEN FIRE!"

Then muzzle flashes. Neville’s rifle kicked against his shoulder, brass clattering at his feet. The creatures shrieked as rounds tore into them, but they didn’t stop and more kept pouring out.

One took five rounds to the chest before collapsing.

Another lost a leg and kept crawling, jaws snapping.

"Switch to grenades!" Rodriguez yelled, yanking a frag from his vest.

Neville followed suit, pulling the pin and hurling it into the advancing horde.

BOOM.

Shrapnel shredded three creatures into gory chunks, but the rest climbed over their dead, unfazed.

"Smoke! Covering retreat to the bunker!" Javier bellowed, tossing a canister. Thick gray smoke billowed, but the creatures didn’t cough, didn’t slow... they kept moving forward as if unaffected.

"They don’t breathe?!" Neville thought, backpedaling but they had gotten close.

A club whistled past his head. He dodged, drew his knife, and rammed it into a creature’s throat. Black blood sprayed, sizzling where it hit his sleeve.

" disgusting"

Javier yanked him back as another creature lunged, its claws raking where Neville’s neck had been. Rodriguez put two in its skull, but more were coming.

Too many.

"Fall back! Now!"

*******************************************************************

For months, governments had been monitoring the anomalous fissures... Military containment units were deployed to known sites, cordoning them off under the guise of "military training’’ or "hazardous chemical leaks" or "geological instability." Satellite surveillance, drone patrols, and armed rapid-response teams kept watch, but the public remained unaware.

But not all fissures were discovered.

Some opened in abandoned subway tunnels, in sewers beneath major cities, in forests just beyond suburban neighborhoods. These went unnoticed—until it was too late.

The blackout hit without warning.

One moment, the world was connected—phones buzzing, traffic lights cycling, news feeds updating. The next, everything died.

Power grids failed. Communications collapsed. Radios emitted only static. The only light came from car headlights, phone flashlights, and the flickering glow of the fissures themselves.

Then the screaming started.

Officer Mark of the NYPD was on a routine patrol when the streetlights cut out. His cruiser’s dashboard flickered, then died.

"Dispatch, this is Unit 47, we’ve got a power failure in Midtown... theres also unrest..."

Static." Damnit these things never work"

Then, a call over the dead radio: "All units, reports of... creatures... attacking civilians near 5th and—"

The transmission cut off with a screech.

He drew his sidearm and stepped out. The city was eerily silent. Just his footsteps running, glass breaking, and a wet, guttural snarling from the alley ahead.

He rounded the corner, flashlight beam shaking in his grip.

Something green and emaciated crouched over a body, its pointed ears twitching.

It turned.

Glowing eyes. Yellow fangs. Strings of drool swinging from its jaw.

Reyes fired.

Three shots center mass.

The creature staggered but didn’t fall. It roared, then charged.

Fourth shot—head.

It dropped.

His hands trembled. What the hell was that?

Then more growls echoed from the manhole...

Across the city, officers formed makeshift barricades with overturned cars and dumpsters. Those with rifles in their trunks distributed them. A few SWAT teams managed to rally, setting up chokepoints near subway entrances where the creatures seemed to emerge.

But they were outnumbered, and unprepared.

Handguns barely slowed the creatures down. Headshots worked, but hitting a fast-moving, shrieking target in almost near dark was near impossible.

Shotguns fared better, blowing limbs off, but the things kept crawling forward unless the brain was destroyed.

Tasers and batons were useless.

"Fall back to the precinct!" a sergeant ordered. "We need heavier firepower!"

But the streets were chaos. Civilians sprinted in every direction. Some fought back with kitchen knives, tire irons, and even broken bottles. A bouncer from a nearby club caved in a creature’s skull with a fire extinguisher before being dragged down by two more.

A group of armed civilians, maybe, or just gun owners... formed a loose firing line, dropping a few creatures before their ammo ran dry.

Then the larger ones came...

Reports trickled in via last-gasp radio transmissions before the networks fully died:

London: Met Police engaged "fast-moving hostiles" in the Underground. Then screams. Then silence.

Tokyo: A swarm of creatures poured out of a storm drain in Shinjuku. Officers fought back with riot shields until they were overrun.

Moscow: Soldiers at Red Square formed a firing line, but the creatures climbed walls, dropped from rooftops.

In every case, the same pattern:

Blackout.

Creatures emerging from hidden fissures.

First responders overwhelmed.

Civilians slaughtered or forced to flee.

The Military’s Delayed Response

Normally, the National Guard would mobilize within hours of a catastrophic event. But with no comms, no orders, and no centralized command, units were isolated, reacting blindly.

Some armored columns rolled into cities, .50 cals mowing down waves of creatures—until the ammo ran low.

Others got lost in the dark, their GPS dead, and were ambushed in narrow streets.

A few military holdouts fortified police stations or hospitals, but they were islands in a rising tide of teeth and claws.

In apartments, people barricaded doors and shoved furniture against windows. Some fought back with whatever they had:

A chef in Chicago stabbed a creature with a meat cleaver before being torn apart.

A construction crew in Berlin used nail guns to blind a few before retreating.

A group of teenagers in Seoul set a Molotov cocktail alight, burning two creatures—only for three more to leap through the flames.

But it wasn’t enough.

The creatures didn’t tire. Didn’t fear. Didn’t stop.

And with every death, their numbers seemed to grow.

************************************************** 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

Ophelia stood in the center of her makeshift killing field, her breath steady, her violet eyes sharp in the gloom.

This was her fissure.

She had scouted it months ago and it was in the same area she had been getting mutated beasts, back when the military was still scrambling to contain the larger breaches. This one was small, hidden in the hills. Perfect.

A guttural snarl echoed from the fissure.

Another one was coming.

She didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Just waited.

The creature clawed its way out—green skin glistening, pointed ears twitching, yellowed fangs dripping saliva. It sniffed the air, then locked onto her.

Bad mistake.

Before it could charge, Ophelia’s blade was already in motion. A single, fluid slash—decapitation. The creature’s head hit the concrete with a wet thud, its body collapsing seconds later.

She didn’t pause. " Fighting like this is crazy dangerous but i need an appropriate class."

Another emerged. Then another.

She moved quickly—efficient, relentless.

The first, she impaled through the throat, twisting the blade to sever its spine.

The second, she sidestepped, letting its own momentum carry it into a spiked barricade she’d welded from scrap metal.

The third, she grabbed by the skull and slammed into the ground hard enough to crack its skull.

No wasted movement. No hesitation.

She had spent weeks refining this. Learning their patterns. Exploiting their blind spots.

The fissure flickered again.

A bigger one this time.

A hulking, potbellied brute with arms thick as tree branches and a club studded with rusted nails. It roared, spittle flying.

Ophelia smirked.