Killer Instinct: Carrie Unleashed

Chapter 2: Search Party

Car horns echoed through New York City’s crowded streets. Traffic lights flickered, ignored by impatient drivers as congestion worsened. Pedestrians moved through the chaos, dodging cars with quick, practiced steps. A soft fog covered the towering skyline, dimming neon signs. One building stood out, its massive display flashing “Ultratech” in bold light.

The CEO sat alone in her office, lost in thought. Gold and light gray metals shaped her sleek form, catching dim lights. Alloy strips cascaded from her head like dreadlocks, giving her an imposing yet elegant presence. Her chin rested on folded hands, the smooth metal gleaming as she mused.

The office was silent except for the faint hum of the virtual projectors. Then, the door slid open. A fiery humanoid emerged, engulfed in molten plasma. Fire ribbons twisted around its body, flaring outward like volatile solar eruptions, casting flickering light across the room.

“I don’t recall giving you permission to enter, Cinder.” The CEO’s voice crackled with mechanical clarity, each syllable edged with static. Though his neutral mask concealed his expression, she sensed his amusement in his subtle head tilt. He advanced toward the desktop, each step measured. His scoff, more breath than sound, carried an air of defiance.

“Have you seen the news, ARIA?” Cinder’s voice rumbled like heated metal, thick with intensity.

“Clarify.” The CEO’s tone was smooth and precise, without emotion or hesitation.

“A school massacre happened in Chamberlain, Maine.” Cinder typed on the keyboard. “The report claims a student manipulated objects with her mind—killed people.”

ARIA’s sensors adjusted the incoming data. “Play footage of this event.”

“Already on it.”

Cinder tapped a command, triggering the screen’s descent. A giant display lowered from the ceiling, its surface flickering to life with incoming visuals.

A reporter stood near the charred ruins of a school, gripping a microphone. The skeletal remains of the burned structure towered behind them, a stark reminder of the destruction. Detectives combed the wreckage, sorting through debris for evidence in an area enclosed by yellow tape. Though the footage played during the current news cycle, the bright sky and sharp shadows suggested it had been recorded earlier, perhaps yesterday.

“I’m reporting live from Thomas Ewen High School, the site of the infamous ‘Black Prom’ on May 25, 2013. Authorities have yet to identify a suspect, and the number of casualties remains unknown.”

The reporter shifted, pressing a finger to his earpiece. “Hold on.” His gaze hardened as he absorbed the update. “Police have recovered a camera that captured the massacre. Investigators are reviewing the footage to determine what happened. If permitted, we will release it to the public.

“We will remain on-site as this story develops. Viewer discretion is advised—the footage may contain disturbing images.”

The clip showed a young woman with red highlights streaking through her blonde hair. Her bluish-gray eyes reflected the overhead lights, sharp with anticipation. Her pink dress hugged her figure, its delicate fabric now tainted by the unfolding nightmare.

Beside her, a blonde-haired boy stood at the center of the stage when, without warning, a torrent of blood poured from above. Crimson liquid drenched them, its unsettling heat clinging to fabric and skin. Though some splashed onto the boy, his date bore the brunt, the weight of the moment pressing down on her in chilling silence.

“What began as a harmless prank turned into horror. Sixteen-year-old Carrie White became the target of a cruel trick.” The voice carried dramatic weight, underscoring the tragedy unfolding on-screen. Laughter echoed from the speakers, filling the space with unsettling cheer until a sudden impact shattered the moment.