Dying Light 2: Volatile Virus

Aiden's heart was still pounding as he made his way back toward the safe house where Spike had set up for the night. The growls and howls of the infected filled the air, but none of it compared to what he had just seen. That thing… whatever it was… it wasn't like anything he had ever encountered before.

And that terrified him.

By the time he found Spike, the older Pilgrim was leaning against a rusted car, watching the city with wary eyes. He barely reacted as Aiden approached, but the moment he saw the look on Aiden's face, his expression darkened.

"Alright, kid," Spike muttered, "what happened?"

Aiden exhaled, trying to steady his thoughts. Then, finally, he asked, "Spike… what the hell did I just see?"

Spike took a slow breath, his fingers tightening around the handle of his machete. "That infected…" he started, his voice lower than usual. "Is known as the Night Hunter. The most dangerous and dreadful infected."

Aiden frowned. "The Night Hunter? What kind of mutation is that? It wasn't a Volatile… it was different. Faster, stronger. And those tendrils—what the hell was that?"

Spike shook his head. "One no one knows. By what's known, that infected is what spread the virus out of Harran to the world."

Aiden blinked, stunned. "You're saying one infected did all this?"

"Looks like it," Spike muttered. "And if it's still out here… we've got a real problem."

Aiden ran a hand through his hair, trying to process what he had seen. The way the Night Hunter sniffed the air, tracking something… "It was hunting," Aiden said. "It wasn't just running around aimlessly like the others. Do some infected track like that?"

Spike nodded. "Yeah. When an infected—normally only Volatiles—has prey nearby but can't see 'em, they start sniffing to track. They do it when they detect a sudden smell or when they lose a target while chasing. It's how they find you when you're hiding."

Aiden's mind raced. If Volatiles could do that, then this thing was even worse. It was smarter. More precise. "Have you ever seen anything like this before?"

Spike exhaled, his expression grim. "No. Not even in Harran. And I'm glad I didn't. But now I have… and if it's hanging around here, we may be in real trouble."

Aiden clenched his jaw. "Could it just be an evolved Volatile? Or is it something else?"

Spike's face darkened. "Probably. The virus mutates strangely in every infected. No one really knows what the virus can do… or if it even has a limit."

That sent a chill down Aiden's spine. "So why haven't I heard about it before?"

"Because there's only one of them," Spike said firmly. "That's why it's called The Night Hunter—meant to be just one. And each time someone sees it…" he hesitated, then sighed. "They usually don't live long enough to tell the story."

Aiden swallowed hard. "So why am I still alive?"

Spike gave him a long, knowing look. "Because it wasn't after you."

That realization hit Aiden like a punch to the gut. If the Night Hunter had been focused on him instead of that survivor… he wouldn't be standing here.

Aiden took a shaky breath, then asked, "Do you think this has anything to do with Harran?"

Spike's expression was unreadable. "Most probably," he admitted. "I escaped Harran years ago. I wouldn't be surprised if this infected mutated when I left… and then got out somehow."

Aiden shook his head. "How the hell does something like that just get out?"

Spike's eyes flickered with something between regret and frustration. "I also heard stories," he said slowly. "People from Hartford—a city not far from where Harran used to be—talked about seeing a person turn into a Volatile. And not just any Volatile… the Night Hunter."

Aiden tensed. "That's where it happened?"

Spike nodded. "But soon after, someone else showed up. Someone wearing cultist robes… a golden sun mask… and those hands."

Aiden frowned. "Hands?"

"They weren't normal," Spike muttered. "Clawed, like an infected… but controlled. Not mindless. This person, whoever they were, appeared behind the Night Hunter and started beating the hell out of it."

Aiden's eyes widened. "Wait—you're saying someone actually fought that thing?"

"Yeah. And by the way people described it, that someone was winning." Spike rubbed the back of his neck. "For a moment, that person could've saved the future… if it wasn't for the GRE."

Aiden's stomach twisted. "What did they do?"

Spike let out a bitter chuckle. "Got in the way. They showed up, trying to extract the Night Hunter. Made the mistake of helping it escape." His voice hardened. "For one damn moment, the world could've been spared. But the GRE fucked it up."

Aiden exhaled sharply. "Great. Just what we need—another GRE screw-up."

Spike nodded. "And that wasn't the only thing…" His expression darkened. "Back in Hartford, long before the virus spread worldwide, something happened."

Aiden's muscles tensed. "What do you mean?"

Spike leaned forward. "People from that city… they started going underground. Into the sewers."

Aiden's brow furrowed. "Why?"

Spike's voice dropped. "Nobody knows. But those same people came out excited. Happy. Then they started bringing in more people, taking them down there."

Aiden didn't like where this was going. "And?"

Spike's gaze was grim. "After some time… none of them were ever seen again."

Aiden's stomach turned. "So, what—you think they found a safe zone down there? Or…" He hesitated.

"Or they're dead," Spike finished. "Nobody knows."

Aiden ran a hand through his hair. "Shit… so we've got a legendary infected, a cult leader who almost stopped it, and an entire group of people who disappeared underground?"

Spike exhaled. "Yeah. And now… you just saw the Night Hunter for yourself."

Aiden's fists clenched. "So what the hell do we do?"

Spike was silent for a moment. Then, he muttered, "Hope it doesn't come back."