Invasion of the United States

Dias held the flashlight and walked along the dim underground passage, his footsteps echoing dully on the concrete floor.

The air was filled with a dry, moldy smell mixed with the scent of rusted metal and insulated rubber.

Occasional exposed pipes and hanging cable bundles overhead extended into the dark depths like thick blood vessels. The ventilation ducts emitted a low hum, like the breathing of a giant underground beast.

This was the most inconspicuous branch line within the labyrinthine underground works beneath Capitol Hill.

Security personnel would conduct routine inspections here each month to prevent cable aging, loose connections, or pests chewing through wires, ensuring the reliable operation of the entire underground facility.

A fire door at the end of the passage suddenly revealed an abandoned cart parked in front of it.

Dias lifted the crumpled waterproof cloth on the cart as if discovering a 'treasure' left by a scavenger.

Leftover cream bread, which by scent was high sugar and high calorie. Three bottles of unfinished electrolyte water, upon close inspection were homemade saline solutions.

Also scattered were multivitamin tablets, common medicines for headaches and colds, bandages for wound dressing—standard survival supplies.

Apart from food and drink, there were lighting fixtures, a field knife with a compass, and at the bottom, a modified car radio hidden away, its yagi antenna self-made from tin cans—simple yet practical.

"That kid really prepared thoroughly." Dias muttered softly.

The cart's side pocket even had a simple water purifier and a compressed sleeping bag, allowing long-term survival in the wild, preserving morale and physical strength.

"Yet he abandoned these things here so easily. What does that imply? It implies he found a better hiding place."

Dias pushed open the normally closed fire door, revealing the noisy temporary underground hospital behind it.

He stood in front of the hospital beds, surveying the dying patients and rushed medical staff, feeling an inexplicable sense of strangeness in his heart.

Compared to other shelters tormented by the epidemic, the atmosphere in this hospital was overly joyful.

-----------------

Several Department of Homeland Security agents with somber expressions surrounded the nurse, Shanni, urgently questioning the whereabouts of the suspect 'Victor'.

Faced with the agents' relentless questioning, Shanni did not cooperate; instead, she was unusually angry and resistant. Her body language was overly aggressive, clearly hiding something.

Dias furrowed his brow, walked up to Shanni, and coldly broke the deadlock: "Ma'am, I am certain a highly dangerous terrorist appeared in this underground hospital.

We must capture him as soon as possible, and your full cooperation is necessary." His sharp gaze stared directly at Shanni's face, catching any subtle change in her expression.

"Normally, you should listen to our statement first, then think, and finally deny. But you're not cooperating at all, directly entering the 'denial' stage.

Are you trying to harbor a federal criminal?"

Dias's voice sharply rose, filled with authority and pressure, forcing her: "It's an 'emergency situation' now, and some procedures have been simplified.

The coalition government has authorized the Department of Homeland Security to take whatever necessary actions to safeguard national security.

Listen carefully, ma'am, I do not wish to arrest you, but that depends on your attitude. Now, tell me the answer."

Questioned so forcefully by Dias, Shanni's face turned unnaturally stiff, her expression inevitably showing some panic and fear.

Dias knew his psychological tactics were working, and by softening his posture slightly he would surely gain something.

Just as the tension reached a peak, a thunderous roar echoed from behind Shanni, shaking the air around them as if it trembled. The m#o^s+t& up%‑&t#o!‑dat.e^ version is on M$4&VLEMP&4YR.&

The burly head nurse, Williams, had unknowingly awakened; her eyes were glaring, a greasy, mottled mop clutched in her hand as she charged at Dias like an enraged lioness.

"Out of my way!" The head nurse's rough voice was full of anger and threat. "Who allowed you outsiders to cause trouble on my turf?!"

She waved the mop, pointing directly at Dias, her eyes disdainfully scanning the gun at his waist:

"You think those tiny bullets in your crotch can scare me? I bet before your gun fires, my mop will land on your face first!"

The mop looked filthy beyond belief, with dark stains clumped on the mop head, emitting a nauseating stench.

A closer look revealed patient blood, feces, even vomit remained on the mop—clearly snatched from a janitor's hands and not yet cleaned.

Seeing this, Dias's face changed drastically, his pupils rapidly contracted, instinctively reaching for the gun at his waist.

Almost simultaneously, in the shadows along the corridor, several underground hospital guards in wrinkled uniforms and some cloaked in white coats also drew their weapons.

Their guns' barrel black holes ominously aimed at Dias and the few Department of Homeland Security agents that appeared outnumbered.

At this moment, everyone's nerves were taut as a drawn bowstring, any spark could ignite a conflict.

For these hospital staff long entrenched underground facing death daily, psychological pressure had long reached its breaking point.

After days of busyness and anguish, they understood well who were the most reliable companions around them. They chose unity and stood by head nurse Williams.