Chicago PD Headquarters was a madhouse. The city was tearing itself apart, and even the cops didn’t know what to do about it.

Officer Crowe couldn’t believe how bad it had gotten so quickly. What had started as a few isolated incidents was in danger of becoming a full-scale riot. Around the city, seemingly normal people were turning into psychopaths. Half an hour ago, a call came in about a grandfather who was found wandering the streets, wearing nothing but the stitched together skins of his grandkids. Kid makes a bomb-vest; takes out his church. Eight dead. A girl goes on a rampage at her college campus, bludgeons and stabs a dozen people to death. And those weren’t even the worst.

It was like the entire city was turning into some god-damned horror movie.

“When there is no more room in hell,” a voice intoned over Crowe’s shoulder. “the dead shall walk the earth.” Crowe spun around. Special Agent Winters stood there, an unsettling smirk on her pale lips, eyes hidden by dark sunglasses. Creepy fucking Fed.