The Japanese man slowly turned away from the corpse of the President while emergency lights continued flashing across the ruined corridor.
Behind him, the opened nuclear football still glowed faintly beside the dead body sprawled across the blood-covered floor.
The last President of the United States now meant nothing more than another corpse inside a dying bunker.
Kaguya quietly slid her katana back into its sheath before following behind him.
The infected immediately parted aside as the two calmly walked through the destroyed corridors of Cheyenne Mountain.
Bodies lined nearly every hallway now.
Military personnel.
Scientists.
Secret Service agents.
Government officials.
Some had been ripped apart by Hunters.
Others had been fed on by ordinary infected.
A few had died with weapons still in their hands, backs pressed against walls, magazines empty, faces frozen in terror.
The Japanese man did not spare them much attention.
To him, they were not important anymore.
