On the Beginning of Apocalypse
The world ended not with silence but with a roar.
It began in San Francisco, the beating heart of progress, where technology and ambition had always walked hand in hand. The first reports spoke of riots, unexplained attacks, and people tearing one another apart in the streets. Within hours, it became clear this was no riot—it was an infection. A virus that defied biology, something beyond science. And at its core… the impossible.
The Quantum Virus.
When the Pym Particles reactor at the Stark–Pym Research Center malfunctioned, it didn't just release microscopic chaos—it opened a door that should never have been opened. Every experiment that relied on the particles went wild: containment cells shattered, shrunken materials expanded uncontrollably, and the microscopic ecosystem of the Quantum Realm bled into Earth's atmosphere.
That was the moment the world began to unravel.
––
Shang-Chi sprinted through the chaos, his breath harsh, sweat streaking his face as fire lit the skyline of San Francisco. Buildings that once symbolized progress were now crumbling fortresses. Smoke and ash choked the air, and through the haze came the faint, guttural moans of the infected.
"Katy! Stay close!" He shouted, pulling his friend as debris rained down around them.
Katy Chen, clutching a makeshift iron rod, tried to keep up as they turned into Grant Avenue—or what was left of it. Chinatown, her home, was burning. The familiar neon signs were shattered, the lanterns shredded, and the air was thick with the metallic scent of blood.
She froze as her eyes locked onto the restaurant her mother once owned. The front windows were smashed, the walls scorched black. "Mom…" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Mom!"
"Don't!" Shang-Chi pulled her back before she could run forward. A shadow moved inside the restaurant—and then stumbled into the light. It was an old woman. Skin pale, mouth dripping with blood, eyes clouded with hunger. Katy's heart broke as she recognized her.
"Ma…"
The woman let out a wet, snarling hiss.
Before the creature could lunge, a sharp gunshot rang through the street. The infected body dropped instantly.
"Move!" Agent Jimmy Woo's voice cut through the chaos as he emerged from behind an overturned car, gun drawn, his jacket torn but his posture unshaken. "We have to get out of here now!"
Shang-Chi blinked. "Agent Woo? You're alive?"
"Barely," Woo said grimly, reloading his pistol. "There's an evacuation point near the Bay. If we can make it there, there's still a chance to get you out."
The three ran, weaving through abandoned cars and corpses. Every street was a warzone—explosions, gunfire, screams, and the relentless sound of shuffling feet closing in from every direction.
As they turned a corner, the ground shook—the low, distant rumble of helicopters.
"Over there!" Woo pointed toward the rising smoke near the Embarcadero. Several aircraft flew overhead, emblazoned with a familiar insignia—Ten Rings.
Katy's eyes widened. "You have got to be kidding me."
The choppers opened fire, rockets and machine guns tearing through the zombie hordes that filled the street. The blasts sent shockwaves through the air, and for the first time since the apocalypse began, hope—faint and fragile—flickered.
Then came him.
Xu Wenwu descended from one of the choppers, his long coat whipping in the wind, the legendary Ten Rings glowing around his arms like halos of power. Each motion he made was an art form—rings cracking through the undead, bodies disintegrating in waves of blue energy.
"Father…" Shang-Chi whispered, stunned.
Wenwu turned, his sharp eyes finding his son. "You should not be here."
"I could say the same thing!" Shang-Chi retorted, cutting down a zombie with a sweeping kick. "There are survivors—we have to get them out!"
Wenwu's expression remained unreadable. "They are already dead. We do not waste strength on the dying."
Shang-Chi clenched his fists. "You're wrong."
He charged into the crowd, spinning and striking, the motion fluid and controlled—the dance his mother had taught him long ago. For every zombie he struck down, two more came. His movements were perfect, but they were endless.
Wenwu's gaze softened—for a moment, the father saw his son not as a rebel, but as the boy he had raised. Pride flickered in his eyes before being replaced by alarm.
"Shang-Chi!"
One of the infected lunged from behind. Shang-Chi blocked the first, but a second bit down—deep into his forearm. He screamed, kicking the creature away as the black veins began to crawl up his skin.
"No…" he whispered, trembling. "No, no, no—"
Katy and Woo rushed to him, but Wenwu was already there. His rings flew from his wrists, glowing a brilliant gold as they coiled around Shang-Chi's arm.
The energy pulsed, cracking through the veins, burning away the spreading infection. Shang-Chi gasped in pain, but the dark tendrils receded, sealed away by the ancient power of the Ten Rings.
When the light faded, Wenwu's arm was bare. The rings floated for a moment, then scattered—their energy dissipating into the air.
"Father…" Shang-Chi said weakly. "You—"
"There is no time," Wenwu said, his voice calm but strained. "Go. Remember what your mother taught you… her heart, her light."
Then, for the first time in years, he smiled—faintly, softly—like the ghost of the man he once was.
Before anyone could stop him, Wenwu turned and faced the oncoming swarm.
"Father!" Shang-Chi shouted.
Wenwu's voice echoed through the burning street. "Go, my son."
~~~
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