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They fought their way through the burnt-out remains of the Canals. Nero, using his sword's arcane energy, carved a summoning circle into the cobblestones. Jessica laid out the trophies: a cop's badge (Vincent flinched), a boxer's glove, a magician's wand, and her own compact mirror.

"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."

He raised a hand. The tentacles that lined the walls began to writhe. The floor turned to living flesh. call of duty-R- black ops iii zombies

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.

The power detonated.

Only one of them was silent. The detective, Jack Vincent. He wasn't looking at the zombies. He was staring at the giant, cyclopean eye that had replaced the moon. The Shadow Man had promised them truth. He had given them a world of lies.

Below, the streets groaned. The living had been twisted into shrieking, meat-walled parasites. The dead… well, the dead had gotten back up. They fought their way through the burnt-out remains

He laughed, a wet, tearing sound. Then he pulled a pistol from his holster, put the barrel under his chin, and pulled the trigger.

"I didn't ask for this," he muttered, his voice losing its showman's lilt. "I just wanted to make my wife disappear. Permanently." "Some stage," rumbled Floyd Campbell, the heavyweight boxer

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.