...........................................................
….:wake up
John:...…
….: John wake up
John:........
...: John, you came too far just to die here you still haven't taken your vengeance against Osamu do you still remember why you're heart filled with hatred?
John:...…
....: I guess not...after all, do you even still remember her the woman that enchanted our heart?
John: uh…..w…..what?
…..: ah finally you're awake how was the sleeping beauty?
John: oh it's you again ... What happened exactly?
.....: and miss all the fun try and remember what happened when you meet your one-armed friend and continue from there.
John: I'll try
…..: there are a lot of things that you have forgotten John but that's another story for another time right now where are in deep shit and if you want to survive you have to think fast remember you're training and lastly remember her.
John: who?
....: you'll know soon enough now focuses.
Moments before the disaster:-
....:AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
John: WTF
John: hey are you alright what happened here who did this to you?
...: wha….who are you?
John: Right now, your knight in shining armor, keep pressure on the wound. We have to stop the bleeding. By the way, my name is John what's yours?
Ethan: Ethan, Ethan winters.
John: well nice to meet you Ethan right now we have to get the fuck out of here.
Ethan: I couldn't agree more AH... we have to inform the authorities there is a dead body downstairs and my wife there is something wrong with her as if she is possessed by something.
John: really now don't tell me your wife is the one who cut off your arm.
Ethan:.....maybe.
John: Fantastic well you could explain yourself after escaping from this shitty place do you know a way out.
Ethan: upstairs.
John: all-right let's move on can you walk?
Our pov:-
As John helped Ethan up, they began going upstairs to the attic, moving carefully and on high alert. John found a pistol and gave it to Ethan so he could defend himself. Closing into the exit, John's soldier sense kicked in, warning him about the danger.
John: wait.
Ethan: what?
John: do you hear that
Ethan: hear what?
Soon the sound of a chainsaw going through wood as Ethan's wife jumped down facing the duo while screaming Bloody Mary with murder eyes.
John knew that this case was not like any other supernatural beings he had hunted in the past all he knew now was to get out of this house call Bobby and hope for some answer to this situation.
John: light her UP!
Soon John and Ethan started filling her with lead and silver bullets john used his duel Colt 1911 while Ethan carried an M1911A1 which seemed effective before she could come close to them she collapsed her facial expression turned back to normal, her eyes landed on Ethan before she collapsed completely she said....
....: I…. love....you
Ethan:...….. Mia
John:....alright...listen, Ethan, I know you are going into a rough time…but if we don't get you to a hospital right now you could say goodbye for reattaching your hand.
Ethan: something wrong is going on in this place nothing is normal here.
John: ETHAN BEHIND YOU!
Ethan:wha..
…..: welcome to the family son.
Ethan: AH
John: ETHAN, hey take someone your own size!
...: come here then!
John moved forward raising both of his arms while the strange man walked causally towards John, the stranger extended his hand to catch John by the neck but John sidestepped giving him two japs to the chine The strange man shrugged it off like it was nothing John give him a right then two left one to the liver the other to the chine the stranger smiled as the punches did nothing two him.
...: you hit pretty hard for a little man
John: LITTLE!?
…..: oh I'm sorry pretty boy did that upset you?
John: you kidding me pretty boy!? THAT DOES IT!!!!!
John charged at the strange man, throwing a punch so powerful it launched him into the air like he was flying. The strange man hit the floor, stood up slowly, and spit blood while smiling.
John: hard enough for you?
…..: you made me feel something there, young blood who taught you how to throw a punch?
John: how the hell are you still standing in my three years of being a hunter I have never met something like you or Mia for that matter just what the hell are you?
…..: you will be a fine addition to this family.
John: what? Wait a minute I know that face...….. your Jack, Jake baker you served in the United States Marine Corps from 1980 to 1990 what the hell happened to you?
Jack: I accepted her gift.
John: her gift?
Jack launched himself at John picked him up then threw him at the flower breaking through it and sending both of them to the living room on the ground flower jack stood up like nothing happened to find John regaining consciousness John looked up to see Jack standing over him.
Jack: welcome to the family son
John: shit
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John: that just happened so what next?
....:well for start Jack picked you and Ethan carried you both into the house that we saw earlier strapped both of you into a chair and right now he's reattaching Ethan's hand while you still unconscious.
John: well ain't that a bitch.
…..: tell me about it....alright soldier we are now in enemy territory surrounded by an unknown number of hostiles with one Allie and he's a civilian...….ya we have a bad hand here John.
John: tell me about it....by the way, who are you again?
…..: I'm you John the man that spent 3 years in Japan is standing right in front of you, you never really forget what happened there you just decided to bury the incident deep inside your mind so you don't go insane it's amazing what the brain of a human being can do.
...: but I'm not here to bore you out of your mind we will continue this conversation later right you have one objective.
John: what's that?
…..: survive.
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John pov:-
John slowly regained consciousness, his head pounding as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to his skull. His vision was blurry, but he could make out a dimly lit room, the flickering light from an old ceiling fan casting shadows across the walls. He tried to move but quickly realized he was strapped to a chair, thick leather bindings keeping him in place.
John: "Well, ain't this a bitch."
A deep chuckle filled the room. As John's vision cleared, he saw Jack Baker standing at the head of the dinner table, a twisted grin plastered across his face. Beside him sat an older woman in a wheelchair, unmoving, and a younger man with an unsettling stare. Ethan was slumped in another chair, his recently reattached hand twitching slightly.
Jack: "Bout time you woke up, son. Welcome to the family."
John: "Yeah, thanks, but I already got one. I think I'll pass."
Jack let out a laugh before grabbing a bloodied knife from the table and stabbing it into a chunk of unidentifiable meat. He gestured toward the plate in front of John.
Jack: "Come on now, eat up. Don't be rude."
John glanced down at the grotesque meal before him and smirked. "Sorry, but I'm on a diet."
Before Jack could respond, Ethan groaned, his head lifting slightly as he took in his surroundings. His face twisted in horror as he looked at the twisted family gathered around them.
Ethan: "Where... where the hell are we?"
Jack: "Yer home now, boy! We're all family here, and you two just joined the club!"
Ethan struggled against his bindings, panic setting in, but John remained eerily calm, analyzing his surroundings. His years of military training and hunting instincts kicked in—he needed a plan, and fast.
Suddenly, the younger man at the table, Lucas, snickered. "Oh, Daddy, I think this one's got some fight in him. Maybe we should test him out."
Jack: "Oh, don't worry, boy. We'll have plenty of fun with 'em soon enough."
Before John could respond with another smartass remark, a loud crash echoed from another part of the house. Jack's expression darkened.
Jack: "Well now, looks like someone's gettin' a little too nosy. I'll be right back. Y'all sit tight."
Jack stood up and left the room, Lucas following close behind. That was the opening John needed. He flexed his fingers, feeling the tight leather straps digging into his skin. He took a deep breath and shifted his wrists, trying to work his way free.
John (internally): Alright, soldier. Enemy territory, unknown hostiles, one ally who's half-dead, and no weapons. Bad hand all around.
Ethan turned to John, desperation in his eyes. "John... do you have a plan?"
John smirked, finally feeling the strap around his right hand start to loosen. "Oh yeah, Winters. I always got a plan."
Just as John managed to slip one of his hands free, a creak from behind made his blood run cold. The unmoving old woman in the wheelchair twitched slightly, her lips barely parting as a whisper slipped from her mouth.
???: "Run..."
John and Ethan exchanged a look. They didn't need to be told twice.
John: "Time to move, Ethan. Now."
As soon as the words left his mouth, the bindings on his arm came completely undone. He wasted no time freeing his other hand, then reached over to Ethan's restraints. Footsteps echoed from the hallway—Jack was coming back.
John gritted his teeth. One chance.
He grabbed a rusted fork from the table and prepared to stab it into the leather holding Ethan down. The moment it came loose, the two of them shot up from their chairs just as Jack's voice bellowed from the hallway.
Jack: "Now where do you boys think you're goin'?!"
John: "Ethan, move!"
Without hesitation, they bolted toward the kitchen door, their only chance at escape. The nightmare had only just begun.
John led Ethan through the dimly lit hallways, dodging overturned furniture and debris as they navigated the twisted house. Every creak of the floorboards made John's instincts flare—danger lurked around every corner.
Ethan: "Where the hell are we supposed to go?!"
John: "Anywhere that's not here, just keep moving!"
They turned a corner and skidded to a halt as a hulking silhouette stepped into view. Jack Baker, grinning ear to ear, wielding a rusted shovel in one hand.
Jack: "Now, now, boys… you didn't think it'd be that easy, did ya?"
John's grip tightened around the rusted fork in his hand—he needed a real weapon, fast.
Jack lunged forward with terrifying speed, swinging the shovel toward Ethan's head. John shoved Ethan aside at the last second, the shovel barely missing his skull. The impact sent splinters flying from the wooden wall.
John: "Ethan, go! Now!"
Ethan stumbled back, looking hesitant, but John didn't wait. He grabbed a fallen pipe from the floor and swung it at Jack's midsection. The blow connected, but Jack barely reacted—he just grinned wider.
Jack: "Oh, I like you, boy. You got spirit."
John didn't waste time on banter. He spun around, aiming a kick at Jack's knee, trying to knock him off balance. Jack staggered for a moment, giving John just enough time to grab Ethan and bolt down another hallway.
They reached a door, and John threw his shoulder against it, forcing it open. They stumbled into what looked like a garage. Tools, spare parts, and an old, rusted pickup truck sat in the dim light.
John: "Get in the truck!"
Ethan scrambled inside as John yanked open the driver's side door. He searched frantically for keys. Think, dammit! If this was Jack's truck, where would he keep them?
Before he could answer that question, a loud BANG echoed through the room—Jack had kicked the door open, his monstrous frame blocking their only exit.
Jack: "You ain't goin' nowhere, boys. Time for some family bonding!"
John's heart pounded as he turned back to the truck. No keys. No time.
John: "Ethan, get ready. We're about to make our own exit."
He grabbed a wrench off the workbench and braced himself. One way or another, they were getting out of here.
Jack lunged at them, but John swung the wrench with all his strength, smashing it against Jack's temple. The impact sent the man staggering back, but he let out a low, guttural laugh.
Jack: "Boy, you just don't give up, do ya?"
John didn't reply. Instead, he turned back to the truck and spotted a glint of metal—keys, dangling from a hook on the wall. He lunged for them as Jack recovered, his eyes dark with twisted delight.
John: "Ethan, start the truck! We're getting the hell out of here!
Ethan fumbled with the ignition as John leaped into the passenger seat. The engine roared to life just as Jack charged toward them, his eyes burning with madness.
John: "Punch it, Winters!"
Ethan slammed the accelerator, tires screeching as the truck surged forward. Jack stood in their path, grinning.
John: "Hit him!"
With a sickening crunch, the truck plowed into Jack, sending him flying into the wall. But John knew—it wasn't over yet. Jack started to twitch, his body twisting unnaturally as he pushed himself back up, his grin widening.
John: "Goddamn it... keep driving, Ethan!"
The truck screeched forward, its tires kicking up dust and debris as Ethan struggled to keep control. John gripped the dashboard, his eyes locked onto Jack's still-twitching form in the rearview mirror.
John: "He's getting back up, Ethan! We need to put him down for good!"
Ethan: "Oh, you think?! How the hell do we do that?!"
Jack let out a guttural laugh as his body twisted unnaturally, bones cracking as he pushed himself upright. His eyes burned with something inhuman.
Jack: "You boys play rough… I *like* that!"
Without warning, Jack lunged forward, grabbing onto the truck's hood with monstrous strength. The metal crumpled under his grip as he yanked himself onto the vehicle. His face, twisted in madness, peered through the shattered windshield.
John: "Hit the brakes!"
Ethan slammed his foot down, sending Jack hurtling forward. He crashed onto the concrete floor with a sickening *thud*, but within seconds, he was already stirring.
John: "Son of a—this bastard doesn't stay down!"
John grabbed a crowbar from the truck's side compartment and jumped out, running towards Jack before he could fully recover. He swung with all his might, the metal bar cracking against Jack's skull. Jack staggered but still grinned, his head tilting unnaturally to the side.
Jack: "That all ya got, boy?!"
John: "Not even close."
Before Jack could lunge again, Ethan revved the truck's engine and slammed the vehicle into reverse. The rear bumper struck Jack's legs, knocking him onto his back. Wasting no time, John grabbed a nearby gas canister, unscrewed the lid, and poured it over Jack's writhing body.
Ethan: "Tell me you got a lighter!"
John: "Better."
He pulled his sidearm and aimed straight at the gas-soaked Jack.
John: "Burn in hell, you son of a bitch."
*BANG!* The bullet ignited the fuel, and flames erupted around Jack as he let out a blood-curdling scream. The fire spread rapidly, consuming his body as the garage filled with thick, acrid smoke.
Ethan: "We need to get out of here—NOW!"
John nodded, jumping back into the truck. Ethan floored the accelerator, bursting through the garage door and into the swampy night beyond. The house loomed behind them, the glow of fire flickering through the windows.
Ethan: "Did we get him?"
John exhaled sharply, watching the blaze in the rearview mirror.
John: "I don't know… but I'm not sticking around to find out."
The two sped off into the darkness, but deep down, John knew this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
The truck roared down the dirt road, its tires kicking up mud and debris as Ethan struggled to keep it steady. John kept his eyes on the rearview mirror, half expecting to see Jack's burning form sprinting after them.
John: "Keep your foot down, Ethan! That bastard might not be dead yet!"
Ethan: "Jesus, how many times do we have to kill him?!"
John: "As many as it takes."
The road ahead was barely visible through the thick trees lining both sides. The swampy terrain made the ride rough, the truck bouncing violently with every pothole and root they hit. Suddenly, the radio crackled to life, static filling the cabin before a garbled voice cut through.
???: "…lo? …can hear me…? If you're out there, get to the main house… basement…"
Ethan: "What the hell was that?!"
John grabbed the radio, adjusting the frequency. "Who is this?! Say again!"
The voice came through again, clearer this time.
???: "There's not much time. You need to get to the basement of the main house. There's something there that can kill him… but you have to hurry!"
John exchanged a glance with Ethan. "Sounds like a damn trap."
Ethan: "Yeah, well, what choice do we have? If there's even a chance to stop Jack for good, we need to take it."
John sighed, checking his sidearm. "Fine. But if this goes south, I'm blaming you."
Ethan veered the truck off the road, turning back toward the house. The swamp seemed even darker now, shadows stretching unnaturally in the moonlight. As they neared the property, the faint glow of the still-burning garage flickered in the distance.
John: "No movement… maybe we got lucky."
Ethan: "I doubt it."
They pulled up near the house, killing the engine. The air was thick with tension. John motioned for Ethan to stay low as they crept toward the entrance. The door was ajar, a faint creak echoing as they stepped inside.
John: "Stick close. And if anything moves, shoot first, ask questions never."
Ethan nodded, gripping his pistol tightly as they descended into the darkness of the basement. The deeper they went, the colder the air became, a thick humidity clinging to their skin. The sound of dripping water echoed through the walls.
John: "I got a bad feeling about this."
Suddenly, a noise—faint but unmistakable. A low, guttural growl from the darkness ahead.
Ethan whispered. "Tell me that was just the pipes."
John chambered a round. "Not unless the pipes are hungry."
A pair of glowing eyes appeared in the shadows, followed by another. Then another.
John: "Ah, hell. Here we go again."
The air in the basement thickened, a damp musk of mildew and decay filling their lungs. John took a step forward, his grip tightening around his weapon as the glowing eyes in the darkness began to move.
Ethan: "Tell me you've got a plan."
John: "Yeah. Don't die."
Before Ethan could respond, a snarl erupted from the shadows as the creatures lunged. John fired first, his bullet tearing through the closest figure. It staggered but didn't fall.
John: "Shit! They're tougher than they look!"
Ethan fired next, his shots ringing through the basement. One of the creatures collapsed, but the others pressed forward, unfazed by the gunfire. Their grotesque, malformed bodies twisted unnaturally as they advanced.
John: "We need to move!"
Ethan: "Where?! We're trapped down here!"
John's eyes darted around the room, landing on a rusted metal door at the far end. He grabbed Ethan's arm and yanked him toward it.
John: "That way!"
They sprinted, barely dodging the claws that swiped at them from the darkness. Reaching the door, John threw his weight against it, forcing it open. They stumbled into what appeared to be an old storage chamber, the flickering light of a dying bulb illuminating the room.
Ethan: "What now?!"
John scanned the shelves. Boxes, broken equipment, and… a shotgun. He grabbed it and checked the chamber—two shells loaded.
John: "Now we fight back."
The creatures slammed into the door, their guttural growls reverberating through the walls. The wood splintered as claws tore through it.
John: "Get ready, Winters. We're about to have company."
The first creature broke through the splintered wood, its jagged teeth bared as it lunged. John didn't hesitate—he fired the shotgun, the blast tearing through the monster's head and sending it sprawling backward. The force of the shot rattled the room, but more growls echoed from behind the wreckage.
Ethan: "They just keep coming!"
John: "Then we keep shooting!"
Ethan fired his handgun, taking down another creature as John pumped the shotgun and aimed again. The two fought side by side, taking down one monster after another, until the doorframe was littered with unmoving, grotesque bodies. A tense silence settled over the room.
John: "You good?"
Ethan, panting, nodded. "Yeah… yeah, I think so."
John lowered his weapon and glanced around. The room was still intact, but they were out of ammo and nearly out of options. He sighed, sliding down against a metal shelf, motioning for Ethan to sit.
John: "We need a breather before moving on. How the hell did you get caught up in all this?"
Ethan sat across from him, rubbing his face. "I came looking for my wife. She went missing three years ago, then I got a message—she was here. I didn't think... I didn't think it would be like this."
John raised an eyebrow. "Three years? And she just suddenly reached out?"
Ethan: "Yeah. Something's wrong with her, John. She's... different. It's like she's not even human anymore."
John sighed, running a hand over his face. "I've seen some weird shit in my time, but this? This is something else. Look, we'll find her, but you need to be ready. If she's dangerous—"
Ethan: "I know. But I have to try. She's still my wife."
John studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. We'll see this through. Together."
Ethan managed a small smile. "Thanks, man."
John smirked. "Don't thank me yet. We still have to make it out of here alive."
A loud crash from upstairs cut their conversation short. Both men shot to their feet, gripping their weapons.
John: "Looks like our break's over."
Ethan: "Yeah. Let's finish this."
With renewed determination, they pushed forward into the darkness, ready for whatever horror awaited them next.
John and Ethan moved cautiously through the dimly lit corridor, the flickering lights casting eerie shadows along the walls. The sound of dripping water echoed through the decayed building, and every creak of the floorboards put them on edge.
John: "Alright, Winters. We stick close, watch each other's backs. No hero shit."
Ethan: "Yeah, well, you're the one with the shotgun. I'll follow your lead."
John smirked but kept his focus sharp. As they pressed forward, a guttural noise reverberated through the walls. They both froze.
Ethan: "You hear that?"
John: "Yeah. And I don't like it."
They rounded a corner, their weapons raised. The hallway stretched before them, ending at a rusted metal door. Something on the other side scraped against it, slow and deliberate.
John: "Get ready. Whatever's in there knows we're coming."
Ethan swallowed hard, tightening his grip on his pistol. John moved first, pressing his shoulder against the door and motioning for Ethan to cover him. With a quick nod, he pushed it open.
The room beyond was a mess—broken equipment, overturned furniture, and blood smeared along the walls. A single, flickering light illuminated the center of the room, where a figure stood unnaturally still.
Ethan: "Oh, hell no…"
The figure twitched. Its head jerked toward them in a sharp, unnatural motion. It let out a low growl, its sunken eyes locking onto them.
John: "Move!"
The creature lunged. John fired first, the shotgun blast sending it staggering back, but it didn't fall. Ethan fired next, landing a shot directly to the thing's head. It screeched, convulsed, and then collapsed into a heap.
Ethan: "Tell me that's the last one."
John: "Not a chance. We keep moving."
They hurried through the room, stepping over the corpse. As they reached the next door, John placed a hand on Ethan's shoulder.
John: "Listen, I know you came here for Mia. But if she's turned into something like that… You need to be ready."
Ethan hesitated, then nodded. "I know. But I have to try."
John gave him a firm pat on the shoulder before pushing open the door. The darkness beyond swallowed them whole as they stepped forward, knowing the worst was yet to come.
John and Ethan stepped cautiously into the darkness, their breathing steady but tense. The hallway ahead was long and narrow, lined with decayed wooden walls that groaned under the weight of time. A distant dripping sound echoed, followed by a faint shuffling noise just beyond their vision.
Ethan: "I swear, if something jumps out at us, I'm done."
John: "Yeah? And where exactly would you go, Winters?"
Ethan let out a dry chuckle. "Fair point."
As they advanced, John's grip on the shotgun tightened. The stale air reeked of damp rot and something metallic—blood. A sudden, loud *thud* came from above, causing both men to freeze.
John: "That came from the ceiling. Keep moving. Slow and quiet."
They reached the end of the hallway, facing another door. This one was slightly ajar, revealing nothing but pitch-blackness beyond. John nudged the door open with the barrel of his shotgun. The room was eerily silent.
Ethan: "I hate this. I really hate this."
John: "Join the club."
They stepped inside, sweeping their weapons across the room. Broken furniture, shattered glass, and tattered curtains barely hanging from rusted rods filled the space. A single, flickering lightbulb dangled from the ceiling, casting erratic shadows.
Ethan's foot hit something soft. He glanced down and nearly gagged—it was a severed arm, fresh, the fingers still twitching slightly.
Ethan: "Jesus Christ…"
John knelt next to it, inspecting the wound. "Ripped clean off. No weapon did this… something *tore* it off."
A deep, guttural growl vibrated through the walls. The temperature in the room seemed to drop instantly.
John: "Winters… we got company."
The shadows in the far corner of the room shifted. A hulking form emerged from the darkness, its grotesque, twisted features illuminated by the dim light. Its breath came in wet, snarling gasps, its elongated arms dragging against the floor.
Ethan: "Oh, hell no—"
Before he could finish, the creature lunged.
John: "Move!"
They both dove aside as the monstrous figure crashed into the wall, splintering wood and shaking the entire house. John fired a shell straight into its chest, but the creature barely flinched. It turned toward them, its maw opening wide to reveal rows of jagged, rotting teeth.
Ethan: "John! What's the plan?!"
John pumped another shell into the shotgun, eyes narrowed. "Simple. We kill it before it kills us."
The battle had begun.
John barely had time to pump another round into the shotgun before the creature lunged again. He dove to the side, rolling across the filthy floor as its claws ripped into the wooden planks where he had just been standing.
Ethan fired his pistol, landing two shots into the thing's side. It recoiled, but only for a moment. With an enraged snarl, it turned its grotesque head toward him and lunged.
John: "Ethan, MOVE!"
Ethan barely dodged, stumbling backward over a broken chair. The creature slammed into the wall, sending splinters flying as it let out a guttural howl. John seized the opportunity and fired the shotgun point-blank into its back. The force of the blast sent it sprawling onto the floor, but it still squirmed, trying to rise.
John: "This thing just doesn't quit!"
Ethan scrambled to his feet, breathing hard. "What the hell *is* that?!"
John: "Not sticking around to find out."
The creature twitched violently, its body convulsing as black ichor spilled from its wounds. Its jaw stretched unnaturally wide, letting out a horrific screech before lunging again.
John grabbed a rusted metal pipe from the debris and swung it with all his strength. The impact connected with the creature's skull, causing it to stagger. He followed up by stomping its head into the ground.
John: "Ethan! Find something to finish this damn thing!"
Ethan frantically searched the room, eyes darting over broken furniture, discarded tools, and old crates. Then he saw it—an old fire axe lodged in the wall.
Ethan: "Got something!"
He yanked the axe free just as the creature let out another ear-piercing screech and charged at John. With all the force he could muster, Ethan swung the axe, embedding it deep into the monster's skull. The thing twitched, let out one last gurgling growl, then fell still.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Both men stood there, panting, staring at the unmoving corpse.
Ethan: "Tell me that was the only one."
John wiped sweat from his brow and reloaded the shotgun. "Don't count on it."
The distant sound of something moving—no, *many* things moving—echoed through the house.
John: "We need to get the hell out of here. Now."
Ethan nodded, still gripping the fire axe tightly. "Agreed. Let's move."
With the weight of danger pressing down on them, they turned toward the nearest exit, ready for whatever came next.
John and Ethan burst through the door into another dark corridor, their footsteps echoing against the damp wooden floor. The sound of distant shuffling behind them made it clear—they were still being hunted.
Ethan: "You got any idea where the hell we're going?"
John: "Away from that damn thing. That's good enough for now."
They pushed forward, their bodies tense with anticipation. After several frantic turns, they stumbled into what looked like an old study. Bookshelves lined the walls, their contents covered in thick dust. A tattered armchair sat in the corner, and for the first time in what felt like hours, there was silence.
Ethan leaned against a desk, catching his breath. "I think we lost them—for now."
John kept his shotgun raised but took a moment to survey the room. "Don't let your guard down. They always come back."
Ethan exhaled sharply and glanced at John. His eyes lingered on the blood-stained bandages wrapped around John's arms and parts of his face. The dim light made them look even more ragged than before.
Ethan: "I gotta ask… what's with the bandages? You hiding some badass scars under there, or is it just for the aesthetic?"
John paused for a moment before letting out a dry chuckle. "Let's just say I had a run-in with something nasty a while back. Not too different from what we're dealing with now."
Ethan: "Yeah, but you don't just wrap yourself up like that unless there's a damn good reason."
John sighed, shifting his grip on the shotgun. "It's a long story. One I'm not sure I'm ready to tell."
Ethan smirked. "We're trapped in a nightmare house fighting off monsters. Not like we got anywhere else to be."
John hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Fair enough. Let's just say… I had a past encounter with something supernatural. Didn't walk away unscathed. These?" He gestured to the bandages. "They remind me of what I lost—and what I still have to do."
Ethan studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. When you're ready to spill, I'll be here."
John: "Appreciate it. But for now, let's focus on getting out of here in one piece."
The moment of respite was shattered by a loud *thud* from the hallway. The distant shuffling was growing closer again.
John: "Break time's over. Get ready."
Ethan gripped the axe tighter as John aimed the shotgun at the door. Whatever was coming—they were ready.
The door rattled violently, the grotesque snarls from the hallway growing louder. John and Ethan exchanged a glance, both tightening their grips on their weapons.
John: "Alright, Winters. Looks like we're about to have company. You ready?"
Ethan: "Not even a little."
John smirked. "Good. Means you'll fight harder."
Before Ethan could respond, the door burst open, splintering apart as a monstrous figure lunged into the room. Its flesh was rotten, its limbs unnaturally elongated, and its eyes gleamed with mindless hunger.
John fired first, the shotgun blast tearing into its chest and sending it stumbling back. Ethan followed up with a quick swing of the fire axe, burying the blade deep into its skull. The creature let out a gurgled screech before collapsing to the floor, twitching violently before going still.
Ethan: "Tell me that was the last one."
John reloaded his shotgun, shaking his head. "Doubt it."
A distant roar echoed through the halls, followed by the sound of more footsteps approaching.
Ethan groaned. "You have *got* to be kidding me."
John scanned the room, spotting an old wooden hatch in the corner. "There! That might lead us somewhere safer."
Ethan: "Or it could lead us straight into more of those things."
John: "Well, standing here sure as hell ain't an option. Move!"
Ethan rushed to the hatch and yanked it open. A dark, musty tunnel stretched below, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and decay. Without hesitation, John climbed in first, dropping into the tunnel. He turned and motioned for Ethan to follow.
Ethan hesitated for only a second before climbing down and pulling the hatch shut behind him. The sounds of their pursuers grew muffled, but they weren't in the clear yet.
John flicked on a small flashlight attached to his vest, illuminating the narrow dirt passage ahead. "Stay close and keep quiet. No telling what's down here."
Ethan let out a shaky breath. "Yeah… great. More dark tunnels. Just what I needed."
John led the way, moving carefully through the confined space. The walls felt like they were closing in, the air growing heavier with each step. Then, a low, guttural growl echoed from deeper within the tunnel.
Ethan: "Please tell me that was your stomach."
John: "Wish I could."
They exchanged a wary glance before pressing forward. Whatever was waiting for them in the darkness, they were about to find out.
The tunnel stretched ahead of them, the damp air thick with the scent of decay. The faint sound of shuffling feet echoed through the passage, sending a chill down Ethan's spine.
Ethan: "I swear, if it's more of those things…"
John: "It's always more of those things. Keep moving."
They pressed forward, their footsteps careful against the unstable dirt floor. John kept his shotgun raised, his flashlight casting eerie shadows on the tunnel walls. The growl they had heard earlier came again, closer this time. It was deep, guttural, unnatural.
Ethan: "I don't like this, man. This place feels… wrong."
John: "That's because it *is* wrong. Keep your head straight."
A sudden scraping noise from behind made them both spin around. The tunnel behind them remained empty, but the oppressive darkness felt like it was closing in.
Ethan: "Okay, let's not stand around waiting for whatever that is to catch up."
John: "Agreed."
They picked up the pace, moving deeper into the tunnel. After a few tense moments, the passageway opened into a large underground chamber. Broken wooden beams jutted from the ceiling, and an old lantern flickered weakly in the center of the room. The scent of blood was stronger here.
John: "Looks like someone's been here before us."
Ethan: "Yeah, and I don't think they left in one piece."
Scattered across the dirt floor were torn scraps of clothing, deep claw marks gouged into the stone walls. In the far corner, something moved—a slow, dragging motion accompanied by a wet, labored breath.
John raised his shotgun. "We got movement."
Ethan tensed, gripping the fire axe tighter. "You think it's human?"
John: "Doubt it."
The figure shifted, stepping into the dim light. It was grotesque—its body misshapen, its skin peeling in long, sinewy strips. Hollow, soulless eyes locked onto them, and its mouth twisted into an unnatural grin.
John: "Ethan… whatever you do, don't let it touch you."
The creature lunged.
The creature lunged, its grotesque form moving faster than either of them anticipated. John barely had time to fire off a shotgun blast before it was nearly on top of them. The shot hit its shoulder, tearing away a chunk of flesh, but the thing barely reacted.
John: "Shit! It's still moving!"
Ethan swung the fire axe with all his strength, the blade sinking deep into the creature's side. A sickening squelch filled the air, but instead of collapsing, the monster twisted unnaturally, its hollow eyes locking onto Ethan.
Ethan: "Oh, hell no!"
John pumped the shotgun and fired again, this time aiming for the head. The blast sent the creature reeling, its body convulsing before it finally collapsed onto the dirt floor.
Ethan took a shaky step back, gripping the axe with white-knuckled fingers. "Tell me that was the only one."
John scanned the chamber, his breathing heavy. "No guarantees. Let's keep moving."
They stepped past the now-motionless creature, keeping their weapons raised. The underground chamber led to another tunnel, this one appearing more structured, lined with stone bricks rather than raw dirt. The flickering lanterns mounted along the walls cast eerie, shifting shadows.
Ethan: "This doesn't look like part of the house. What the hell is this place?"
John: "Something old… and probably something we don't want to be in much longer."
As they moved deeper inside, the walls grew damp, the air thick with moisture. A faint sound echoed through the tunnel—a slow, rhythmic *drip*—followed by something much worse.
A whisper.
It was faint, almost like a breath against their ears, but it was unmistakable. Words they couldn't understand slithered through the air.
Ethan froze. "Tell me you heard that."
John nodded grimly. "Yeah. And I don't think we're alone down here."
The whispering grew louder, shifting into something between a chant and a growl. The air itself seemed to pulse, growing heavier with every step they took.
Then the lanterns flickered once… twice… and went out.
The tunnel was plunged into total darkness.
The darkness was suffocating. John and Ethan stood frozen, their breathing the only sound in the pitch-black tunnel. Then, the whispering returned—closer this time, surrounding them on all sides.
Ethan: "I hate this. I *really* hate this."
John: "Stay close. We need to move before whatever's whispering decides to show itself."
John reached for the small flashlight clipped to his vest and flicked it on. The beam cut through the darkness, revealing damp stone walls slick with moisture. The passage ahead stretched forward into the unknown.
Then, movement.
A shadow flitted across the edge of the light, vanishing before John could track it. Ethan clenched his jaw. "Tell me that was just a trick of the light."
John: "Wish I could. Keep moving."
They pushed forward, every step slow and deliberate. The air grew colder, the whispering shifting into distorted murmurs. It was as if the walls themselves were speaking, voices overlapping in a maddening chorus.
Then, the ground beneath them *lurched*.
Ethan lost his balance, stumbling forward. John caught him by the arm and steadied him. "You alright?"
Ethan nodded quickly. "Yeah, yeah, just—"
A deafening *screech* filled the tunnel.
The light flickered as something massive moved ahead of them. The flashlight caught glimpses—twisted limbs, too many fingers, a body that didn't move like it should.
John: "Run. Now."
Neither of them hesitated. They turned and sprinted back the way they came, the sound of scraping claws and guttural breathing chasing them through the tunnel. The whispering had turned into a cacophony of inhuman voices, each one more eager than the last.
Ethan: "Where the hell do we go?!"
John spotted a rusted metal door to their right and yanked it open. "In here!"
They dove inside, slamming the door shut just as something heavy crashed against it. The impact sent a cloud of dust through the air.
Ethan pressed his back against the door, panting. "Okay. Never doing that again."
John reloaded his shotgun. "You keep saying that, but here we are."
The room was small, lined with old crates and rusted equipment. A single lantern flickered weakly, casting long shadows.
John scanned the area. "We need a way out before whatever that was figures out how to open doors."
Ethan: "Agreed. But let's make sure we're not walking into something worse."
John nodded. Whatever was hunting them wasn't done yet—and neither were they.
John and Ethan stood in the dimly lit room, their breaths heavy as they listened for any sign of movement outside the rusted door. The walls around them were damp, the air thick with mildew. A single, flickering lantern barely illuminated their surroundings.
Then, the sound of an old rotary phone rang out, cutting through the silence.
Ethan: "You have *got* to be kidding me."
John exchanged a glance with him before stepping forward, locating the dusty phone on a nearby wooden table. He hesitated for only a second before picking it up.
John: "Who the hell is this?"
A woman's voice, eerily calm, came through the crackling receiver.
???: "Ethan… you don't have much time. You need to get out of there before *it* finds you."
Ethan's eyes widened. "Who *are* you? What's coming?"
???: "You need to go through the passage behind the shelf. There's a key there. Take it and move fast. Don't stop."
John: "And why should we trust you?"
The voice remained unfazed. "Because if you don't, you *die*."
A sudden, loud crash sounded from outside the door. The thing hunting them was close. Too close.
John slammed the phone down. "Move! Now!"
Ethan rushed to the shelf, shoving it aside with all his strength. Behind it, a narrow tunnel led deeper underground. Sitting on a crate inside was an old iron key.
Ethan grabbed it. "Got it!"
John took one last glance at the door as something massive slammed against it, rattling the hinges.
John: "No time to second-guess. Go!"
They dove into the passage just as the door burst open behind them, the monstrous growl of their pursuer echoing through the small room.
The chase had only just begun.
John and Ethan crawled through the narrow tunnel, their breath ragged as the sounds of their pursuer echoed behind them. The walls of the passage were damp, the scent of mold and decay clinging to the air. John kept his shotgun close, his finger hovering near the trigger.
Ethan: "Who the hell was that on the phone?"
John: "No idea, but she knew what she was talking about. Let's just hope this key actually leads somewhere safe."
A sudden shriek from behind them sent a jolt through both men. The creature was close—too close. They pushed forward faster, the tunnel beginning to widen as a faint light flickered ahead.
Ethan: "I see an opening! Almost there!"
They scrambled toward the exit, emerging into a small, decrepit storage room lined with rusted shelves and scattered debris. A single, flickering bulb swayed from the ceiling, casting eerie shadows.
John: "Lock that damn door!"
Ethan turned and slammed the metal grate shut, shoving an old crate in front of it just as a heavy thud hit the other side. The creature let out a guttural growl, clawing at the barrier, but for now, they had a moment to breathe.
Ethan: "Okay… okay… what now?"
John wiped the sweat from his brow, scanning the room. His eyes landed on an old wooden door at the far end, its surface marked with deep scratches. He pulled out the key and fit it into the lock. It clicked open.
John: "We keep moving."
They stepped into a dimly lit hallway, the air heavy with an unnatural silence. The walls were lined with old paintings, their once vibrant colors faded and warped. A staircase loomed ahead, leading up into darkness.
Ethan: "I swear, if there's another phone up there…"
John smirked, gripping his shotgun. "Then we answer it."
With one last glance behind them, they ascended the stairs, knowing that whatever awaited them above would be far worse than what they had left behind.
John and Ethan ascended the creaking wooden staircase, their weapons at the ready. The dim hallway at the top stretched ahead, lined with broken furniture and peeling wallpaper. The air was thick with the scent of damp wood and something metallic—blood.
Ethan: "This place keeps getting worse."
John: "Stay sharp. We're not alone."
A loud *crash* echoed from a nearby room, followed by the unmistakable sound of heavy boots stomping against the wooden floor.
Ethan: "You think that's—"
John: "Jack. And I'd bet my last shell he's waiting for us."
They pressed forward, cautiously pushing open a heavy metal door at the end of the hallway. Inside, the room was massive, resembling an old barn or slaughterhouse. Dim, flickering lights cast jagged shadows across the walls, illuminating rusted chains and piles of discarded tools. In the center of the room, Jack Baker stood with a wicked grin, holding a massive spiked shovel over his shoulder.
Jack: "Well, well! Look what the swamp dragged in! Y'all really think you can waltz around my house and get away with it?"
John tightened his grip on his shotgun, stepping forward. "You've got one hell of a hospitality problem, Jack."
Jack chuckled, tapping the shovel against his palm. "Boy, you got no idea what you're dealin' with."
Before John could react, Jack lunged forward with unnatural speed, swinging the shovel. John barely dodged, the weapon slamming into the wooden beam beside him, splintering it apart.
Ethan scrambled to the side, grabbing a rusted axe from a nearby table. "We need to put him down *now*!"
John fired a shot into Jack's chest, but the man barely flinched. Laughing, Jack grabbed a nearby chainsaw and revved it to life, the sharp teeth spinning menacingly.
Jack: "Let's see how y'all like a real *family* welcome!"
Ethan's eyes locked onto another chainsaw resting on a tool rack nearby. Without hesitation, he dashed for it, gripping the handle as the machine roared to life.
John stepped back. "You got this, Winters?"
Ethan nodded, determination in his eyes. "Yeah. Time to end this."
The chainsaw duel had begun.
The roar of the chainsaws filled the room as Ethan and Jack clashed, the grinding teeth sparking as metal met metal. The force of Jack's swing sent Ethan stumbling back, his chainsaw barely keeping the older man's relentless attacks at bay.
John knew he couldn't stand back and watch. He needed to act—fast.
Spotting a rusted machete hanging from a workbench, John snatched it up. The weight was uneven, the blade dulled from years of neglect, but it would have to do. He gripped the handle tight and charged forward.
John: "Hey, Jack! Try me!"
Jack turned just as John swung. The machete slashed across Jack's side, cutting through his tattered shirt and leaving a deep gash. Jack let out an enraged growl, momentarily forgetting Ethan.
Jack: "Oh, you wanna dance too, boy? Fine by me!"
Jack swung his chainsaw at John, forcing him to duck and roll away. The blade missed by inches, biting into a wooden beam, sending splinters flying. John used the moment to slash at Jack's leg, slicing through flesh and muscle. Jack staggered, but the wound barely slowed him down.
Ethan seized the opportunity, revving his chainsaw and lunging. The blade tore into Jack's shoulder, sending a spray of blackened blood into the air. Jack howled, his body convulsing unnaturally, but he still wouldn't go down.
John: "What the hell does it take to kill this guy?!"
Jack, grinning through the pain, yanked Ethan's chainsaw away with unnatural strength and threw it across the room. He turned back to John, eyes wild.
Jack: "Y'all ain't gonna kill me that easy! I been through worse!"
John didn't waste time on words. He surged forward, driving the machete straight into Jack's stomach. Jack grunted, his body shuddering, but instead of falling, he grabbed John by the collar and *lifted him off the ground*.
Ethan: "John! Hang on!"
John struggled as Jack's grip tightened around his throat. The room spun, his vision blurring.
Ethan, desperate, grabbed a nearby metal pole and swung it like a bat. The impact sent Jack stumbling back, dropping John in the process. Gasping for air, John recovered quickly, snatching his machete from the ground.
Jack reeled, his body convulsing, his flesh twisting unnaturally. His grin widened into something grotesque.
Jack: "This ain't over… not by a long shot."
John wiped blood from his mouth and readied his stance. "We'll see about that."
The fight wasn't over. Not yet.
Jack's body twitched, the unnatural grin still plastered across his face. His eyes flickered with something almost inhuman, as if he was enjoying every second of the battle. John gritted his teeth, gripping his machete tighter, while Ethan held his chainsaw at the ready, its motor still roaring.
Jack: "Y'all think you can kill me?! *I AM THE FAMILY!*"
With terrifying speed, Jack lunged at John, his chainsaw arcing down. John barely managed to roll away, feeling the air shift as the blade missed his head by inches. He countered with a powerful slash of his machete, carving a deep gash into Jack's arm. Black, tar-like blood seeped from the wound, but Jack only chuckled.
John: "Ethan! We need to end this!"
Ethan revved his chainsaw and rushed in from behind, slicing deep into Jack's back. The monstrous man let out an unholy scream, his body convulsing violently. Seizing the moment, John drove his machete into Jack's stomach, twisting the blade as hard as he could.
Jack staggered, his grin finally faltering. "This... ain't over... boys..."
With one final surge of strength, Ethan yanked his chainsaw upward, splitting Jack's chest open. Jack let out one last, gurgling laugh before his body collapsed to the floor in a heap. His limbs twitched for a few moments, then went still.
Ethan panted, stepping back as he wiped sweat and grime from his face. "Tell me that's the last time we have to deal with him."
John, catching his breath, nudged Jack's unmoving body with his boot. "I don't trust it. We need to keep moving before something else decides to show up."
Ethan nodded, looking around the room. A metal door stood at the far end, its frame old and rusted but still intact.
Ethan: "That's gotta lead somewhere."
John: "Then let's find out. And let's hope whatever's next isn't worse than what we just fought."
They exchanged one last glance at Jack's corpse before stepping through the door, ready for whatever fresh nightmare awaited them next.
John and Ethan moved cautiously through the dimly lit hallway, the weight of their recent battle still heavy on their shoulders. After everything they'd endured, the eerie silence almost felt unnatural. As they reached a small storage room, John pushed the door open and peeked inside. Finding it empty, he motioned for Ethan to follow.
Ethan: "Alright, I think we can take a breather here."
John sighed, leaning against the wall and stretching his sore arms. "Yeah, I think we earned it."
Ethan sat on an overturned crate, rubbing his temples. "You know, for someone who looks like they've been through hell, you sure fight like a damn machine."
John smirked. "You learn a thing or two when you've been fighting your whole life."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "That so? Care to elaborate? We've been running and shooting for hours, might as well get to know each other."
John hesitated for a moment before exhaling. "Alright, Winters. You want to know? Fine. But don't expect some happy story."
Ethan: "After what we've been through? I didn't expect sunshine and rainbows."
John let out a dry chuckle before his expression hardened. "I grew up in a military family. The Bookers have been soldiers for generations, so my future was decided before I could walk. I trained, I fought, I survived. But then… I was sent to Japan. And that's where things get blurry."
Ethan leaned forward. "Blurry how?"
John rubbed the back of his head absentmindedly. "I don't remember much. Three years of my life are just… gone. I know I was there. I know I trained soldiers. I know I fought things that shouldn't exist. But the only thing I remember clearly… is Osamu."
Ethan: "Osamu? The guy who—"
John clenched his fists. "Burned me alive. Threw me off a canyon. Broke damn near every bone in my body. When I woke up, I wasn't the same. Pieces of my past? Missing. All I had left was the pain, the scars, and the certainty that I had to keep moving."
Ethan sat in silence for a moment. "Damn… and I thought I had it rough."
John smirked. "Speaking of which, what about you, Winters? Who were you before all this?"
Ethan exhaled, shaking his head. "Just a regular guy. Had a normal job, a normal life. Met Mia, got married. Everything was fine… until it wasn't. One day, she vanished. No leads, no explanation. Then, out of nowhere, I get a message from her, telling me to come find her. And like an idiot, I did."
John nodded. "And now you're stuck in this hellhole."
Ethan let out a dry laugh. "Yep. And I don't even know if Mia is the same person anymore."
John placed a hand on his shoulder. "Listen. No matter what happens, you're here for a reason. But be ready for the worst. Sometimes, the people we love aren't the same when we find them."
Ethan looked down, processing John's words. "Yeah… I guess we'll find out soon enough."
John glanced toward the door, his soldier instincts kicking in again. "Alright, break's over. Let's move."
Ethan stood up, gripping his axe. "Back into the nightmare."
With that, the two men pressed forward, their bond stronger than before, both carrying pasts that had led them to this moment.
As they stepped into the next corridor, a familiar sound cut through the silence—a phone ringing. The same old rotary phone as before, sitting on a nearby wooden table, untouched and somehow still working.
Ethan: "Oh great, her again."
John exchanged a glance with Ethan before walking up to the phone. He hesitated before picking it up. "Yeah?"
The same calm female voice crackled through the receiver.
??? "You don't have much time. Jack was only the beginning. If you want to survive, you need to keep moving. There's a way out through the processing area—but it won't be easy."
Ethan leaned in. "Who the hell are you?"
???: "The name's Zoe. Someone who wants to help. But you have to trust me. Find the processing area. Hurry."
Before Ethan could ask anything else, the line went dead.
John: "Processing area, huh? Sounds like a fun time."
Ethan groaned. "Yeah, I'm sure it's just filled with sunshine and puppies. Let's go."
They pressed on, not knowing what new horrors awaited them next.
John and Ethan moved deeper into the house, following the only path available to them. The air grew heavier, thick with the scent of damp wood and something metallic—blood.
Ethan: "Processing area... sounds like a place we don't wanna be."
John: "No shit. But if Zoe's right, it's our only way forward."
They descended a narrow staircase, the dim lighting casting jagged shadows on the walls. The deeper they went, the colder the air became, sending a chill down Ethan's spine.
Ethan: "You ever wonder why people like us get dragged into this kind of crap?"
John smirked, keeping his shotgun raised. "All the time. You think we pissed off the universe or something?"
Ethan let out a dry chuckle. "Maybe. Before all this, my life was normal. Boring, even. I worked in IT, fixed computers, played video games. The worst thing I had to deal with was slow Wi-Fi."
John glanced at him. "You? An IT guy? Never would've guessed."
Ethan shrugged. "Yeah, well. I liked my quiet life. Then Mia disappeared, and suddenly, I'm playing survival horror in real life."
John nodded. "Guess we've both had our worlds flipped upside down. My life? It was never quiet. Always training, always preparing for war. My father made sure of that. Then Japan happened, and... well, you know the rest."
Ethan: "Do you ever think about trying to remember?"
John hesitated before shaking his head. "I've tried. But every time I dig too deep, all I get are nightmares. Maybe some things are better left forgotten."
Ethan: "Yeah... maybe."
The two pressed forward, stepping into a large, grimy chamber filled with metal cages and rusted processing equipment. Bloodstains covered the floor, and the sickly scent of rot filled the air.
Ethan: "Well... this is just fantastic."
John gripped his shotgun tighter. "Stay sharp. I don't think we're alone."
A low, guttural growl echoed from the darkness.
John: "Yep. Definitely not alone."
John and Ethan instinctively raised their weapons, scanning the dimly lit chamber. The growl was deep, guttural, reverberating through the bloodstained walls.
Ethan: "Tell me that was just the pipes creaking."
John: "Yeah? You wanna stick around and find out?"
The shadows ahead shifted. A grotesque figure emerged from the darkness, its twisted limbs twitching as it dragged itself forward. Its skin was blackened and rotten, its mouth splitting open to reveal jagged, unnatural teeth.
Ethan: "Oh, hell no."
John didn't wait. He raised his shotgun and fired, the blast echoing through the chamber. The creature staggered but didn't fall.
John: "You've gotta be kidding me."
The monster lunged, forcing Ethan to swing his axe. The blade buried deep into its shoulder, but the creature barely reacted, its clawed hand swiping at Ethan's chest. He barely dodged in time.
Ethan: "Any more bright ideas?!"
John pumped his shotgun, firing another round, this time aiming for the creature's head. The impact sent it crashing backward, twitching violently before going still.
Ethan exhaled sharply. "That better be the last one."
John: "Doubt it."
A distant scraping noise echoed through the chamber, followed by more guttural snarls.
John: "We need to move. Now."
Ethan grabbed his axe, pulling it free from the corpse. "Which way?"
John scanned the room, spotting a metal door on the far side. "That way. And let's hope whatever's behind it is better than what's out here."
They sprinted across the room, John kicking the door open. Inside was another hallway, lined with rusted metal grates and flickering lights.
Ethan: "I hate this place."
John: "You and me both. Keep moving."
With the growls growing louder behind them, they disappeared into the next corridor, bracing for whatever horrors lay ahead.
John and Ethan sprinted down the narrow hallway, their footsteps echoing against the metal grates beneath them. The dim, flickering lights above cast eerie shadows along the rusted walls. Behind them, the guttural snarls and scraping claws of the creatures grew louder.
Ethan: "Tell me you see a way out!"
John: "Working on it!"
They turned a corner, nearly colliding with a rusted metal door at the end of the hall. John grabbed the handle and yanked, but it didn't budge.
John: "Damn it! It's locked!"
Ethan scanned the area, spotting a nearby panel with a keycard slot. "Looks like we need a keycard."
John: "Because of course we do."
The growls grew closer. John and Ethan exchanged a look before Ethan pointed down another hallway leading deeper into the facility.
Ethan: "Only one way to go."
John let out a frustrated sigh. "Let's move before we become monster chow."
They pushed forward, navigating the maze-like corridors, their weapons at the ready. The deeper they went, the worse the air smelled—damp, rotten, with a hint of something metallic.
Ethan: "This place just keeps getting worse."
John: "No argument here."
A loud *clang* echoed from behind them. Both men spun around, their weapons raised. The hallway remained empty, but the tension in the air was suffocating.
John: "Stay sharp. They're toying with us."
Ethan: "Yeah, well, I'm not in the mood for games. Let's find that damn keycard and get the hell out of here."
They pressed on, unaware of the eyes watching them from the darkness.
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Arthur nots: that took forever to finish im sorry it took soo long to complete but hey it's here and I hope you enjoys the chapter see you next time bye