Chapter 1960

Alexander remained alert, observing the city streets as the car approached. The bustling activity contrasted sharply with the sparsely populated outskirts, offering a measure of relief. He knew, however, that the situation demanded immediate action to prevent further escalation. His experience with the Burnwken pandemic—a horrifying ordeal—weighed heavily on him. Unlike large-scale wars, where people had time to react, viruses could silently ravage a nation. Burnwken, once peaceful and prosperous, had seen half its population succumb to coughing, fever, respiratory distress, and ultimately, death, all within a matter of days. The harrowing images remained seared in his memory. He knew firsthand the symbiotes' lethality, having survived the disease while witnessing Austin's suffering. Their spread posed a catastrophic threat, capable of collapsing the world overnight.

He’d attempted to contact Cameron en route, but his call went unanswered, fueling a growing unease that he quickly suppressed. Calm was paramount under these circumstances.

The chauffeur honked upon reaching the house, but the guard merely glanced at them without opening the gate. Alexander prevented a second honk, exited the car, and approached the gate. "Is Secretary Rollins home?" he asked. The guard, however, only peered at him through the guardhouse window before shutting it.

Suspecting something was amiss, Alexander searched for Anastasia's number. He hadn't saved it, but his memory served him well, recalling it from his call log. After a brief delay, Anastasia answered, her voice weary.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Rollins? It's Alex." He proceeded directly. "Are you home now? Is your father home?"

"My father..." She paused, catching her breath. Alexander frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, we're home," Anastasia replied. "Come in."

Following the call, she apparently notified the guard, and the gate swung open. Peering into the guardhouse, Alexander saw the guard occupied with something, and a noticeable absence of personnel at their posts. A sense of foreboding settled upon him. Something was profoundly wrong.