[center][h2][color=black][b]The Zombie[/b][/color][/h2][/center] 

[hr]

Nancy Jewels' expertise never really was of any use in demonstrative operations such as this one. In fact, it would be quite ludicrous to bring out the underground's main medic and [i]human resources[/i] responsible in such a risky environment. The Zombie of the underground movement could only wish to join such a free genocide, dream of the piles of goods she could turn into a true workforce in the service of the one and only: EDGE. Was she completely dedicated to him? Absolutely not, however no other organization seemed to be very accepting of her death-dealing habits and questionable ambitions. 

Jewels was residing safely in the Underground Movement's HQ, in her small and messy office, in front of a computer with what seemed to be a skype call opened on one of her tabs. In another she was playing some internet personality quiz, retaking it over and over until she got the personality she wanted. What personality was that? She wasn't sure herself. Every ten seconds or so, her eyes would quickly peer over at the small tab where the skill video call was taking place, but it remained dark, until some movement could be heard. Somehow, she had managed to capture Edge's play on camera. The thing was that Nancy was in no way a computer wizard and wouldn't ask for some hacking for such a quick mission. The camera seemed to be attached to someone, a person in the same place where the whole ordeal took place. They were still quite far away from the family left alive, but at a distance where Nancy could see everything. 

"[color=black]Oh no, oh no! Such great potential lost... If only I was there...[/color]" 

She sulked upon witnessing the act. She didn't feel bad in any way for the souls of these people who had lost their lives nor the danger that could face the man in the scene. She was sad because she couldn't have her way at the decapitated bodies. They were fresh, their brains were generally intact as well. Easily glued up and ready to go for a hell of a party. Sighing, she couldn't do much other than maintain her orders to the [i]things[/i] she had sent to supervise the whole operation, supplying cover to the leader. 

"[color=black]Oh well, maybe next time. So... [i]Hello Chief Edge, I hope the owprartio-[/i] Arg![/color]" 

She grunted in frustration over what seemed to be a recital of something. It was almost ritual for her to prepare in advance various greetings of expected visitors, or in this case the return of her superior. The reality of it was that she'd always screw those up and make a fool of herself each time, but it didn't bother her one bit, she'd just try again later. Another thing would be this constant, fake-looking smile on her face. Whether it'd be fake or not would be anyone's guess, but she always kept it up and never once appeared angered or upset over something. 

"[color=black]Ahem... [i]Hello Chief, I hope the operation went as planned. I've prepared the files...[/i][/color]" 

She'd go on with it until something would pop up of any interest. 

[hr] 

The individual holding the camera was none other than a simple policeman with absolutely nothing particular about him. He simply wore a go pro camera on his uniform and supervised the area. He didn't flinch when the instant executions happened. Quite the contrary, he moved forward without a single sign of anxiety or stress. Along with this man, five other men emerged, four of them wearing cardboard masks of various animals while the last one appeared like the average Joe with a plaid shirt and jeans. They all had the same indifferent behavior toward what had just happened and almost mechanically proceeded to do whatever they had to do. 

They were the monstrous Heralds very few in the world knew about, Nancy's foot soldiers and slaves. They worked like a hive mind, doing anything their queen asked them to do and behaved like a collective. There was no place for individuality. The masked ones were somewhat slower in their gait than the normal looking Heralds, but they were simply heading to the mass of bodies left behind. They each proceeded to grab three to four bodies each, two on each shoulder if possible while their fingers grabbed the hair of the nearby heads. When full, they'd bring the corpses to a van parked in a corresponding alleyway. They'd rinse and repeat until interruption. 

Those unmasked simply followed Edge, provided that he'd not shred them out of annoyance. The one with the uniform was already wielding a typical shotgun while the other seemed to equip himself with an M16 Assault rifle concealed in a garbage can. They were the people turned Heralds before dying, and thus they held a high level of cognitive capabilities, as demonstrated when the zombified police officer released a shotgun round right as the assailant attempted to strike the leader of the movement. The other one with the assault rifle had just begun loading it as the action unfolded, but he'd swiftly aim it at any sign of hostile movement, or more precisely, right at the face of the attacking metahuman if he were to survive. 

It'd be a dangerous game, facing creatures with no regard for their safety and hellbent on getting their objective completed. Not to mention, the inevitable fact that they were all disposable. Trained fighters could only notice the bulk behind their clothes. With such loyal slaves, the concept of a martyr wasn't even needed; they'd strap themselves with explosive jackets at the snap of her fingers.