"The cycle…" he choked, looking at his crew. "It resets. You won't remember. But I will. I'll be here forever. The detective who could never close the case."
They weren't saving Morg City. They were feeding it. Their pain, their violence, their desperate rituals—they were fuel for the Apothicons, the eldritch gods trying to tear through the dimensional barrier. call of duty-R- black ops iii zombies
"Some stage," rumbled Floyd Campbell, the heavyweight boxer. He cracked his knuckles, each pop sounding like a gunshot. A swarm of Parasites dove at him; he swatted two out of the air like flies and stomped a third. "The promoter said this fight was fixed. He didn't say the other guy was Cthulhu." "The cycle…" he choked, looking at his crew
"I didn't ask for this," he muttered, his voice losing its showman's lilt. "I just wanted to make my wife disappear. Permanently." But I will
He didn't die. The Key healed him instantly, restoring the bullet hole. The scream he let out wasn't human.
Nero, Jessica, and Floyd stared. They didn't have time to mourn. The floor of the Rift tore open, and from the wound in reality poured a wave of zombies—fresher, angrier, infinite.
When the light faded, the Shadow Man was gone. But so was most of Vincent. He was kneeling, his skin turning gray, his eyes bleeding shadow. The Key was fused to his palm.
