My Werewolf System

Chapter 1770  Parting Gift

In the heart of Centrefield, the scattered remnants of humanity had desperately holed up and gathered in various defensible locations all over the ruined city. Driven by pure survival instinct, they had decided to barricade themselves in the dark and stick together.

However, because of this mass congregation in confined spaces, the survivors were currently facing major, life-threatening issues at hand. The most pressing and immediate of them all being the gathering of food.

The city simply wasn’t a functioning society anymore. And due to the impenetrable military blockade erected on the highways, it wasn’t as if there was an incoming stream of grocery deliveries or government relief trucks. Centrefield was effectively a concrete tomb.

Because of the specific, highly commercialized type of Tier-1 city Centrefield was, hardly any sustainable agriculture or raw goods were actually made within the city limits itself. Millions of people had relied almost entirely on daily imports to survive.

So, what that grim reality left for those still clinging to life was a horrific choice: having to actively go out from their hiding places, leave their reinforced safe havens, and scavenge the abandoned supermarkets to try and get food. But stepping out into the open streets was extremely, terrifyingly dangerous.

More than half the time, the brave members who volunteered for the scavenging runs simply wouldnʼt end up coming back.

In one specific location in particular, a large group of survivors was utilizing a sprawling, subterranean subway station as their bunker.

The main public entrances to the surface had been heavily locked down and reinforced with thick metallic security gates. Objectively, the steel grating wasnʼt nearly enough to keep the mutated, frenzied Werewolves out on its own, but the people inside had managed to miraculously survive for a number of tactical reasons.

For one, there was a secure underground control room with a bank of battery-powered security cameras that connected directly to the main escalators and the concrete staircases.

The survivors could safely monitor the surface from the dark. They could instantly activate the heavy emergency shutters from the control room when needed, completely sealing off tunnels if something wandered too close. If a breach did occur, the camera feeds allowed them to prepare a highly coordinated type of counter-attack in the choke points.

They were large in number, and even though the mutated Werewolves completely out-strengthened them in raw physical power, the survivors were somewhat able to defend themselves with what little they had.

And they had a few secret weapons hidden among the terrified masses.

There were some rogue Altereds mixed in with the civilians who had previously hidden their supernatural powers from society, but were now forced to use them to survive. There were even a few hardened criminals hiding other dark secrets that were able to somehow fend off the scouting Werewolves when the steel gates buckled.

However, despite their localized victories, every single person huddled in the cold subway station felt it in their bones: it was only a matter of time before the dam broke. The hunting groups of Werewolves they had encountered so far were extremely small in number—usually just lone scouts or pairs.

They heard the horrifying echoes through the subway tunnels. Other areas, and heavily armed survivor camps that had once boasted some level of safety, were getting slaughtered and eaten every single day.

The only real, terrifying reason why this specific subway station had survived for so long was that they were simply statistically lucky. There were originally millions of people trapped in Centrefield, meaning the roving Werewolves currently had an amount of easier, less-defended food to choose from on the surface.

But the clock was rapidly ticking. The food on the surface would eventually run out, and the horde would look underground.

In the main terminal of the station itself, standing beneath a flickering fluorescent light, there was a large group of men dressed in rather thick, padded clothing and heavy combat boots.

They all had rugged, exhausted looks on their faces, and strapped to their bodies and backs they carried various pieces of heavy equipment. It wasnʼt standard civilian gear. The equipment was highly specialized, anti-Altered riot gear. It was lethal equipment they had scavenged from around the city, specifically taken from the armories of the fallen police force and private security firms that had been wiped out in the initial chaos.

Standing before these four leaders was a small, ragtag group of around fifteen volunteers.

At the front of the leaders was a hardened man named Korn. He had several deep, jagged scars running along his thick arms and across his body, and he stared incredulously at the small gathering.

“Is this it?” Korn asked, his rough voice echoing off the tiled walls. He gestured a heavily armored arm toward the fifteen trembling people. “Is this truly how many people are actually willing to go up there with me?”

“Yes, sir!” a young man replied, nervously pushing up a pair of half-broken glasses on his face. His hands were shaking. “I went through the crowds and explained everything to them exactly as you said. There are currently six hundred and thirty people hiding in this shelter.”

The young man swallowed hard, looking back at the dark tunnels where the civilians were sleeping. “But most of them are absolutely terrified. They firmly believe that some type of help will arrive sooner or later, and that they should just bunker down and wait it out. There are also those that think trying to scavenge the surface right now is just pure suicide, so they would rather take their chances slowly starving down here.”

Kornʼs scarred face twisted, filling with absolute, burning anger.

“Those naive idiots! Can’t they tell? More and more people are dying out there every single day!” Korn spat, pacing back and forth. “There’s going to be no government help! Look how bad the situation is! Everyone has completely abandoned us to die in this zone! Even the major underground gangs won’t touch this city right now!”

Korn pointed a finger toward the ceiling, toward the surface. “Those crazed, mutated Altered Wolves are all over the damn place, and the authorities clearly don’t have the power to control this outbreak! If we donʼt get food, we die in the dark!”

“I understand,” the young man with the glasses said, his voice finally cracking as hot tears started to run down his dirty face. “But please, don’t worry, Korn. Me and the rest of us standing here... we understand the reality. I saw one of those monsters tear through a car and take my little sister right in front of my face. Iʼm not hiding anymore.”

All of the other fourteen volunteers standing around him had strikingly similar, tragic stories written in their eyes. They all were standing there holding scavenged pipes and kitchen knives because they had violently lost their family members to the horde. They had nothing left to lose, and now, this scavenging run was the only chance they had at survival—and perhaps, a tiny sliver of payback.

Suddenly, walking silently through the gathered group, a mysterious figure approached. It was a man dressed entirely in tactical black gear, wearing a dark mask that completely covered the bottom half of his face, obscuring his identity.

He didnʼt say a word as he approached the front. He simply unslung a heavy metallic crate from his back and dropped it onto the subway floor with a resounding THUD.

“A gift,” the masked man said, his voice muffled and devoid of emotion. “From what used to be the Altered Hunters.”

The others in the station didn’t really know this manʼs actual name, nor his history. They only knew from his lethal efficiency that he was an ex-Altered Hunter, and he had helped them out quite a bit in violently repelling the last minor attack that had occurred at the gates.

Korn frowned, cautiously walking over to the heavy crate. He unlatched the thick metal clasps and pushed the lid open, looking inside.

Instantly, the ambient light caught the gleaming metal within. Kornʼs eyes widened to an impossible degree, his jaw going completely slack.

“How… how is this even physically possible?” Korn breathed, his hands trembling as he reached toward the devastating arsenal packed tightly inside the foam. He looked up at the masked man in pure awe. “How in the hell did you manage to get your hands on gear like this?”

“Let’s just say,” the masked man answered, his eyes narrowing in a cold smile beneath the fabric. “It was a parting gift.”

***