Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S5 Ep202: Episode 202: Terrifying Experiment Horror Stories

Episode Date: December 19, 2024

If you want to take ownership of your health, try AG1 and get a FREE 1-year supply of Vitamin D AND 5 Free AG1 Travel Packs with your first purchase. Go to www.drinkAG1.com/creepen Tonight’s opening tale of the weird and macabre is ‘Project Demigod’ by the wonderfully talented Corpse Child, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me narrate it here for you all:  https://www.reddit.com/u/Corpse_Child/  https://www.reddit.com/r/DrCreepensVault/comments/vuqcl2/project_demigod/ Tonight’s closing epic tale of horror is the wonderful ‘The Forest Experiment’ by the brilliant Mr. Mills 45, kindly shared with me for the express purpose of having me narrate it here for you all.  https://www.reddit.com/user/mrmills45/

Experience a legacy that lasts at Dawn Valley North Lexus. Right now Lisa 2025 TX350 Premium Package from just 898 per month for 28 months at 4.9%. Plus qualified Lexus loyalty guests receive a 1.5% rate reduction for rates as low as 2.4%. See Don Valley Northlexus.com for details. A proud member of Wayne's Auto Group. Welcome to Dr. Creepin's Dungeon. Human experiment stories captivate and disturbers because they explore the terrifying potential

for ethical boundaries to be crossed in pursuit of knowledge or power. They force us to confront questions about the fragility of our humanity and the depths of human cruelty, often highlighting the vulnerability of individuals subjected to manipulation or suffering. The blend of scientific plausibility with moral corruption triggers our knees,

as these stories blur the line between fiction and the disturbing realities of history. We shall see in tonight's two tales of terror. Now, as ever before we begin, a word of caution. Tonight's stories may contain strong language as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. Then let's begin. Project Demigod, by corpse child. People always used to ask me, what makes you special?

usually it was over the fact that I was given just about anything I wanted and life was handed to me on a silver platter at least in the eyes of most yes I came from money yes I lived in a very nice house in a very nice area and yes I was even enrolled in the top tier schools growing up I even had an account to my name with over a hundred and twenty thousand dollars that I would have immediate access to when I turned 18 so yes I guess you could say I was

blessed or special. Of course it didn't exactly feel that way. Money or no money, I wasn't without my own struggles personally. I may have always had more than enough to eat, never have to worry about where I'd lay my head at night in an alley or overpassed somewhere, sure, but, well, don't get me wrong, I never tried to really flaunt my fortune in anyone's face either. I wasn't without problems with my own, the biggest of which being my relationship with my father. Growing up, it was just me and him. I never knew my mother, and Dad never even so much as mentioned her in any sort of conversation. Well, a few I can actually remember us having.

My father worked as a biological research from chemist for the government at one of their research sentences. He'd be gone for most of the day back then, and sometimes wouldn't even come home and to will into the next afternoon. This didn't bother me too much, though. I'd usually pass the time either painting in the art street. studio my father had set up in a house in an empty room or in my own room, reading one of the innumerable novels on Celtic, Nordic, Eastern, and, many other folk legends and or mythos. Well, that was, of course, my favourite of those two pastimes. Well, I'd be lost for hours imagining myself in those fantastical worlds, either rescuing a princess, slaying a mighty beast, or being granted some

magical ability that elevated me beyond that of other people. Oftentimes, being as quiet as it was in the house during the day, my imagination would go so far as to cause me to conjure up some of these creatures who'd play with me. Of course, at the time, at least I knew they weren't real, but it was better to me than being alone every day. At night too, when I'd lay in my bed, I'd hear them, calling out to me, telling me that they were there, but they'd always be there. Unfortunately, this was also for reasons I couldn't yet understand. A big thing that my father mostly disapproved of. I found this out when, one morning when I was younger, about 14 or 15 at the time, I came into my room from school to find him there, holding one of my paintings with the look of

absolute fear chiseled into his face. What are these? he'd asked, shaking. They're my paintings, dad, I replied, confusion and anxiety, mixing and causing my legs to quiver. His eyes further widened. I watched the olive complexion, drain. from his face, leaving him a ghoulish pale. What's wrong with him? Where did you see this? What? Where did you see this? he repeated, snapping at me. They're from the books. What books? I led him to the library and showed him. The apprehension on his face grew when I showed him these books. Get out, he said coldly. get out and don't ever let me find you in here again, do you understand?

I just stared blankly at him. Get out. This time he shouted it. His voice echoed throughout the walls of the library, causing me to run out as fast as I could. I remember how rapidly my heart kept beating when I left the library and ran down the hall. My mind was racing. Why was he so worked up over me reading those books? Why was it so wrong for me to be in there?

What was so wrong? I remember contemplating this for hours that day, sitting alone on my bed. I eventually came back out when I heard his footsteps stomping down the hall with a purposeful stride. His eyes were stitched open and bloodshot, almost like those of a wild animal. In his hands were a stack of the books from the library. He went into the living room and set the fireplace before haphazardly throwing them in two at a time. This caused me to run into the living room, screaming, Wait, don't, what are you doing?

He paid me no attention, continuing to feed the flames like his life was somehow dependent on it. I went over to try and save the rest of the books, only to be met with a hard shove from my father. I was sent flat on my rear, him boring into me with a crazed look. I was so caught up in my own state of shock and fear, and I couldn't really tell that he, some fashion, had the same look on his face. There was something that evidently frightened him about those books, or at least about me reading them. Again, though, that context was all but lost on me. I just sat there, helpless to whatever my father was going to do next.

I expected him to wig out, start throwing things around the room, or even to hit me, something. Instead, he just continued staring at me in a state of fright all of his own. Eventually his face broke into tears, which in turn caused me to turn on the wall. waterworks myself. He seized me and held me close, sobbing heavily. I was confused, but more than that, I was afraid. My head was spinning so quickly that all I could do was hang there in his arms, crying my own eyes out. What was going on? What was Dad so afraid of? Why was he afraid of me reading those books? His head pressed down to the top of mine, and I could hear him mutter through sobs. Oh, this is all my fault, over and over again.

What is? I whimpered, wanting much more desperately for an explanation of some kind than an apology. He never answered, though. Instead, he pulled away from me and made his way back into the library. I remained sitting still in front of the open fireplace. In front of me was only a handful of the stack of books he brought from the library. A part of me wanted to reach out and grab them, scurrying like a little. like a mouse back to my bedroom before Dad came back to burn them too. But I didn't. No, I just sat and watched the ones that had been thrown in, slowly turned to Anne.

I fell asleep there that night, and in the morning I was awakened by my father, roughly shaking me awake. I wake up, start pecking your things. He said in a voice that was as hollow as the look on his face when he said it. I was confused. What's going on? I asked, stirring awake. He didn't answer at first, instead moving toward the hallway and rolling two suitcases towards me. He wouldn't look at me.

Dad, what's going on? Where are we going? Pack your clothes, all of them. Pack up anything that's yours. My heart rate sped up while at the same time sinking from my chest into my stomach. I may have been young, but I knew what he meant. He was kicking me out. So I stood, my knee shaking.

"'What's going on, Dad? Why do I have to—' "'Now,' he snapped, now making eye contact with me once more. He had that same face he did the previous night. It was empty, yet somehow sympathetic at the same time. I could see that, whatever the reason was, he didn't want to send me away any more than I wanted to leave. I swear I even saw a single tear streak its way down his face. Just—he shuddered.

wiping his face with his hand. Just please, Joseph, do as I say, unpack your things. Where am I going? You're going to stay with your grandma Wendy for a while. She'll be by this evening to get you. He then started back into the hallway towards the library. Wait, I cried. What about school?

What about my friends? He stopped and told me, nominally, dismissively, that he'd taken care of that. I wanted to press further, to cry out and to beg him to let me stay, or at the very least tell me why I had to go, but I didn't. Before I didn't have the chance, I heard the door to the library closed, and I was alone in the living. Everything was quiet, far too quiet,

the way you'd expect from a place that was long abandoned. In a way, that's what the situation was, abandonment. No cause or reason was given as to why or how long. just doing away with life as I knew it. I can't really describe what I felt as I stood in the empty living room. I wanted to cry, sure. It was a frightening situation, but no. It wasn't fright I felt. I wanted to scream too. I wanted to punch, kick and toss around everything around me

that I could pick up and just wreck the place in a fit of confused hysteria. But I didn't do any of that either. I guess the word I'm looking for, is that I was numb, so overclock with confusion that my mind essentially had to reset like a computer, leaving me numb, hollow, just like my father was. And this is how I'd spend the rest of that day, absent-mindedly stuffing everything of mine that I could fit into two suitcases. Around six o'clock that evening that Grandma Wendy came from me. I remember walking to the front door, taking one last look around the house,

still empty, still quiet. My father came out of the library carrying an armful of books that I knew he intended to burn when the doorbell rang. Grandma Wendy greeted us with a smile. I can only wonder what she thought when she was received with grim expressions from the both of us. I was told to put my things in the car and wait there while they talked for a month. By that point, I was beyond trying to figure out why everybody was trying to be so vague with what was going on. so I just did, as I was told. I do remember, though, taking one last look at Dad,

silently pleading for him to change his mind. He just looked back at me with a mournful stare and nodded for me to go on. He didn't say anything to me nor I to him. I just turned around, then I went to the car. For a while I just sat there, lost, afraid, and just confused. No matter how hard I tried not to think about it,

I just couldn't help but brood on the simple question of what I'd done to deserve this. What did I do for my father to have to send me away? I thought briefly about the storybooks and the fairy tale collections, though as that he was so quick to destroy. I thought too of the way he reacted when he discovered my artwork based off of them. None of it made sense. But I, try as hard as I damn well could, could not come up with any logical answer as to why my father was so

adamantly against me reading them, against my enjoyment of fantasy. All of this continued to lead me back to that one central question, one that only now, many years later, am I finally getting an answer for? What was I not being told? Tonight's episode is sponsored by A-G-1. A-G-1 is a comprehensive and convenient blend of over 70 vitamins, minerals and other ingredients, including gut-friendly bacteria, antioxidants, high-quality, mushrooms and more.

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it was about 30 minutes later that Grandma Wendy came back to the car. Remember how she gave me a warm smile, sympathetic, silently telling me, it's going to be okay now. But at one last time at the house, my father was stood on the porch, watching as we started away from the house. I mean a few seconds later, we were on the highway on the four to six-hour drive away to her house,

ending the life I'd known for at least 14 years. Well, things changed drastically, from me, of course. I mean, I no longer attended the prep school that I'd done back home, instead having a tutor come to homeschool me, something that my father apparently had arranged beforehand. As well as this, given that Grandma Wendy didn't come from money like my father, I had to learn how to make income for myself like everyone else. I guess what I'm saying is I wasn't special anymore,

like how I said I was early. Please understand, I'm not here to cry over that. I'm not saying that because of that little paradigm shift that life became a waking hell or anything like that. I was still able to live happily, even if I had to adjust to a new lifestyle. I grew up just fine, graduated, top of the class, even if I wasn't actually there,

got a bachelor's degree in English literature, and now I live in a very nice house of my own. Life went on, and I was still happy. One thing stayed the same, though. Even if I could no longer read those books, I could still see them. The beings, the fairy. that gods and goddesses from them.

Even into adulthood, I'd still hear them calling out to me. They'd tell me how they wanted me to join them in their realm. This, among anything else, proved to be my biggest predicament in life. Well, I guess, given that I'd live so long by that point away from the realm of childlike imagination, having to live normally,

I realized that it wasn't exactly natural. I guess you could say that I was hearing the voices of fairies. I'd been seeing a therapist for it for a while, and it had helped a little. For the most part, with his help, I'd managed to see and hear them less and less. Not completely gone, but not too much to be really problematic. This theory was that it was sort of my mind's way of holding on to a piece of the past. He said that our minds, usually after something shocking or traumatic like that day at the house,

would grab onto something happy as a sort of defence mechanism. In short, because I'd see the fairies when I was younger and had many fond memories of them, I'd see and hear them now as a way of preserving the past. This would ultimately become my way of accepting what I was experiencing. Not only that, but it was also how I'd make peace with what had happened at the house, with what happened between me and my father. Until now, I'd never thought anything more of it. Then, last Tuesday happened.

I got the phone call. After that day I never actually saw my father again. He never called or wrote either. The only word I'd ever received from him was a birthday card in the mail, along with a check for $300, at least until my 21st, where it was a bottle of imported red wine instead. Outside of that, the old man basically didn't exist to me anymore. Hell, I won't lie.

For a while, despite looking more and more just like him whenever I'd look in the mirror, and she started to forget what he even looked like. Well, I guess, along with my memory of him, my anger towards him also faded into obscurity. It was early last Tuesday when I got the call that changed all of that look. It was from an old colleague of his from the laboratory he'd worked in. My father's body was found hanging from the rafters in the library. He told me he'd been absent for almost a month and a half,

having put in a letter of resignation and had gone to check in with him. When he was found, it was clear he'd been dead at least three days. I left the next afternoon to go back to my old home, having taken off a month from the office on paid leave. I arrived that evening where I was greeted by the colleague and a few of my father's associates, as well as men in black suits. Legal consultants, I figured. Each of them briefly exchanged condolences before leaving.

One of them, the one I'd spoken with on the phone, gave me a folded piece of paper before I left, telling me they found it with the body. Once everyone was gone, it was dead silent again, just like the old times. No creaking, no tittering, no whir of air, nothing. Standing alone once again in the empty living room, the memories came back to me. All the fantastic adventures I used to have, the quests I'd embark on, and with this, they came back as well. I could hear them the soft, cruning voices of what I imagined to be a beautiful goddess.

There's nothing for you here, child. Come, it's time, my child. I shoved this down then. Even if the voices were just a preservation of memory, they weren't welcome in that moment. No. Being there in that living room in that empty, silent house, only brought memories of loneliness, of abandonment.

I looked over to the fireplace, a stack of books sitting in front of it. I went over and took a closer look at them. They were a mix of textbooks on biology as well as a few on quantum physics and engineering, a few on philosophy and religion, and the rest were a couple of the mythology and folklore collections I used to read. This prompted me to go into the library, where I then finally took out the piece of paper. Unfolding it, I saw that at the top of it was a paper-clip photo of him smiling,

with me cradled in his arms asleep. This actually got to me for a moment, not because it was a heartfelt moment, or because it was a happy memory of me and him together, but rather because of the fact that, for most of my life, even early on, he'd never been there. I guess that was another reason why it wasn't hard for me to always. but forget about him when he sent me away.

Seeing that picture, though, I didn't know how to feel. Below the photo was scribbled like he was in a hurry when he'd written it. What looked like to me to be some sort of serial code. Because of the way it was written, I couldn't make all of it out. What I could read was the monolith D1473, Project Demi. Under this was the following message, written almost just as illegibly.

There is a God, and I only hope I can be forgiven for my sins. The file has everything. It tells of what I and the others did. It's in the black cabinet, second shelf under D category. The time has come that I have to stop hiding and reveal the truth, to the world and to my son, Joseph.

The things I did, I did for him. but now I must pay for my wrongdoings. I must have read that message almost a thousand times. Two main emotions hit me at the exact same time, confusion and anxiety. What was this file? Hell, what was this black cabinet? In all the times past that I'd lingered in that room, even as big as it was, I'd never once seen any filing cabinets, black or otherwise.

More importantly, what was it that file? contained that apparently haunted my father, so much so that he eventually took his own life. What did it have to do with me? So it was with all these questions infesting my mind that I took to scour in the room, looking for the elusive black cabinet. I tore that entire room apart, top to bottom, tossing books around, and eventually even resorting to toppling some of the shelves over to find it. It was only after, purely by accident,

I'd thrown aside one of the large brown encyclopedias on the second to laugh bookshelf that remained standing, that I watched an area of the wall at the far end of the room, ironically the space that used to be occupied with the fantasy books I used to read while away, slide to the right, revealing a doorway to another room. My eyes grew when I saw this. My heart jackhammered away at my ribcage. My knees threatened to buckle beneath me as I slowly approached the room. When across the threshold, blinding fluorescent lights blinked to life, revealing a small,

cramped office with a large mahogany desk in the centre that had multiple stacks of manila folders as well as a few miscellaneous documents, some of which were laying discarded on the floor around it. Curiosity was replaced with a drag of excitement as I glanced at the folders, seeing them marked with similar codes to what I'd seen on the note. I knew then that whatever this file was and whatever was in it, it will be found in that office. Behind the desk were two filing cabinets, one white and the other being the black cabinet I was looking for.

I rifled through the second shelf for about 20 seconds through all of the similarly labelled folders until finding the file labelled with the code written on the note. The front of it was marked with a small logo of a long structure or tower with the words. Monolith Site D1473, secure a file, Project Demigard, classified data, stamped across the front. Immediately I closed the drawer and sat at the desk and opened the file. The first several documents were blueprints and diagrams for these weird contraptions that honestly I'd have no idea how to really describe. What notable thing about each of them, however, was that they were all labeled as being

interdimensional, compatible. Some of the diagrams depicted crude drawings of human-like figures, looking to be primarily female in nature upon closer examination, emerging through what I inferred to be a wormhole or portal or something along those lines. A doorway, in other words, is some world so far unknown to this world, that is, except for my father and the unknown persons that apparently assisted him with this. As well as this, some depicted some sort of. sort of chamber or vessel evidently used for containment. These were noted as being made from

solid steel and titanium. A bit more digging through the file and I was met with the first official document. It was an introductory note detailing what Project Demigard was and their hypothesis. Attached is my transcription of this and all of the report entries pertaining to the project. A quick note is that these are all undated, or at least, not that I could find, having been purposefully redacted, so it's unknown exactly when any of these events occurred, all the exact time span in between entries. Profatory matters and introduction. My name is Dr. Weston Greer. Today marks the beginning of a new step in both the realms of scientific possibility and the next evolution of human understanding.

After almost nine years of research, hard work and tireless dedication, we here at Monolith Society are ready to begin our most ambitious project yet since first establishing. The first step towards a larger world. Project Demigard Hypothesis. We will bring a being from another realm, an immortal being far elevated in every way, from any mortal man into our plane and having it breed with a human will bear a god into the world we will give birth to a god among men method through various machinery see attached diagrams we will open the door between our realm and the realm we refer to simply as the veil we're a subject classified detail we'll then enter and, utilising a harness specially designed by our technicians,

bind and bring back a worthy specimen for breeding. For the breeding process, we've selected five male subjects, varying backgrounds, ethnicities, body types, and religions, to see which would constitute the best result in a hybrid spawn of man and god. Subject one is a Caucasian male, 6.2, 235 pounds, former Marine unmarried Catholic. Subject 2 is an Oriental male. 5.6.185 pounds.

Farmer and fisherman. Wife. Deceased Buddhist. Subject 3 is an African American male. 5.9.250 pounds. Cook in an Italian restaurant. Unmarried, atheist. Subject 4 is a Hispanic male. 5.7.2.30 pounds.

Politician divorced Christian. and subject five is a native american male six feet two hundred and fifteen pounds owner of a metaphysical shop unmarried wicken practicing different forms of shamanism each subject was hand-selected by the team of side d and a willing participants in this experiment having signed a legal contract and term of agreement each had been promised five hundred dollars in remuneration for their participation in this project subjects were also noted to have no immediate families to speak of or next of kin. The process of opening the door and accessing the veil will commence at 1,200 hours sharp. Hey Ontario, come on down to BetMGM Casino and check out our newest exclusive. The Price is Right Fortune Pick. Don't miss out. Play exciting casino games based on the iconic game show. Only at BetMGM. Access to the Price is right Fortune Pick is only available at

BetMGM Casino. BetMGM and GameSense remind you to play responsibly. 19 plus to wager, Ontario only. Please play. If you have questions or concerns about your gambling or someone close to you, please contact Connix Ontario at 1866-531-2,600 to speak to an advisor free of charge. BEDMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with iGaming Ontario. Part 3. Entry 1 The first attempt of opening the veil has ended in failure. Equipment was functional, but miscalculations were made with sending live subjects through. The first subject was unable to breach through before.

before his flesh was inexplicably flashed from his bones. It's unknown at this time what it is that caused his reaction. Associates claim it could have been something with the supernaturally high levels of ultraviolet radiation being emitted from the portal. Adjustments are being made to account for this theory. We intend to begin another trial of this time tomorrow. Entry two. For our next attempts of opening the veil, we took the liberty of selecting multiple subjects

whom I will henceforth be referring to as the retrievers, all individuals who have little to know money and no known ties to community or next of kin to speak of. To gauge the most effective method for being able to survive the procedure, we tried various forms of UV protection for most of them. For example, the first of our retrievers was stripped naked and covered from head to toe in multiple coatings of SPF 5,000. Another was given a radiation suit, one of our strongest tailored. The last was given nothing.

The last retriever would act as another sort of control for attempting to breach through a second time. Each of these resulted in failure and loss of life for all three retrievers. Both the protected and unprotected were fried immediately upon contact with the doorway. This has, naturally, led to speculation that either the UV regulations, are far too strong for any man-made implements to protect against, or that there is something else entirely that it's causing this result. At this time, we're unsure exactly how to proceed.

Funding for the project was already at risk with the expenses in gathering the necessary implements. Because of this, we must tread carefully when proceeding further, and do our best to make the next attempts a success. Entry three. Another of the researchers of my team, Dr. Emil Panser, theologist and professor of religion at the university, has given a new theory. It's his belief that because the realm in which we're attempting to access is largely similar to those spoken of in fiction, or mainly children's fiction, that perhaps success can be yielded

by utilising a child. The primary idea behind this belief is that, because children's minds typically hold on to the possibilities of fantasy and innocence more than the minds of adults, they may stand a better chance at withstanding the forces being emitted from the doorway. Most others are very skeptical to this theory. I myself am not entirely quick to attempt this either, though I will admit that a part of me finds itself considering it as the more plausible solution. Of course with this comes the question of where and how to obtain child volunteers for the project. Never mind the question of ethics of that decision, there would also be major.

legal obstacles with it as well as we are yet again at a complete loss of how to proceed myself and the team are on a five-day furlough paid leave hopefully a short absence from the project will allow for a viable option to present itself when we return entry four after almost a week's leave we still hadn't come to any viable conclusion it was during our last conference that the idea of using children as retrievers was brought into question once again. Like last time, most immediately dismissed the idea, primarily due to the far-fetched logic Pence presented with it. I, on the other hand, was a little more open to discussing the idea.

The dilemma presents itself once again. Where would we be able to find children who can volunteer for something as dangerous as this? I, personally, would be against it entirely. But I know of no other solutions at this time. Time is starting to run thin as well with sponsors and with contributors to the project expecting an update in only a few weeks. They're expecting results. I currently, however, only have failure.

Entry five. What I do next I take no pride in. I will state for the record that this decision of mine did not come easily. It came only after many days. days and nights spent in long and drawn-out contemplation, and even then it would ultimately be the looming fear of the project being discontinued that decided me. What I do I will also do without the assistance of many of the others, some of whom have defected on the project because of what I plan to do. My plan is to adopt a handful of the children from a local

orphanage to utilize as retrievers. If Pence's theory is correct, and I can only pray with all my heart that it is, and by utilizing the children's capacity for imagination with their suspension of disbelief, they stand the best chance at being able to reach the veil without themselves being harmed. My God,

have mercy on me, and all of us for whatever may happen next. Entry six. A couple of weeks have now passed with no progress on the project. We had to put everything on hold while attempting to ensure the Department of Social

services would allow the children in our care. It's not like they'd ever have allowed us to have them if they knew our real intention for them. The children have been living in the loft, off-site from the facility for almost two weeks. Pence and one of the biologists of our team, Dr. Amelia Orne, have acted as the pseudo-parental figures for that time. Yesterday was the finalization of the adoption process, and with that the project may continue. The first attempt with the children will commence promptly at 2,300 hours tomorrow night. Entry 7. We've now had our first glimpse at success since the project's beginning.

Pence's theory seemed to prevail, at least from an effective standpoint. Still not entirely sold on the science or reasoning behind it. Well, the result was there. Once opened, the modified retriever was able to breach the doorway without being held. out. Now, we wait. We have estimated it taking a minimum of five hours and a maximum of eight to ten for the retriever to harness the specimen and make his way back through the doorway. It is at this time that I hold my breath and pray that the retriever may emerge with our specimen. Personal note. For hours have elapsed now since sending an hour retriever. During this time I can't

stop myself from imagining what that young man is seeing right now and there in the veil i remember how afraid he was when he was met with the opening of the veil he's still so young i wonder if he looks at it any of it at all in fascination and wonder as was characterized by dr pence or in terror as i'm sure i and so many others would if face with such as he is now more than miss however i can't try as I would, quell the growing senses of shame for delving to such extremes as this. Such is the

pursuit of knowledge, I suppose. Entry 8. Hour 12 has passed, there has been no activity from the veil. No sight nor sound has been reported from either the retriever or anything, anyone

else from the other side. Pence believed this is just a minor delay. to use his words. He estimates that this could be due to the retriever's own sense of curiosity. In other words, he believes he's simply exploring the veil. And this, of course, is only speculation, given that we cannot see the retriever, what it does, but, well, it's the most sound conclusion presented thus far.

Dr. Panser suggested that we wait a further three hours before attempting anything further. Personal note. I can't help it. I feel as though he's in grave danger. Pence has advised that I and the others attempt to get some rest, but I can't sleep. I can't even think of sleeping, not with him still in there alone, faced with wonders that an ungrown man appears to be able to withstand. I can't close my eyes without seeing the look of a cold, unbridled fear on his innocent face.

It's now the haunting query presents itself to me, the bane of all scientific. ambitions. Will what we're doing be for the better of our fellow man, and if so, how steep a price must be paid to achieve it? At this time, I cannot conclusively answer this. Entry nine. The three hours have passed, along with an extra two for added measure. Still nothing from either the doorway or the retriever. This was when the retriever was officially declared dead, and this trial another thing. At this time the team and I are discussing what our next move should be. Most collectively agree that utilising the other retriever is a risky venture, not to mention largely unethical.

Dr. Pence, however, disagrees, advising to utilize another of them immediately. At this time, we are undecided, and we have so little time remaining to yield any results. Entry 10. Against the judgment of many of the other. of the team as well as my own conscience we utilized another of our retrievers this one was a little girl the only one of the bunch this adjustment was of course done at dr pence's recommendation well it must be mentioned that it would be this time that many more from the research team stepped away from the project for moral and ethical reasons leaving only a fraction of our original crew

left to continue but 23 30 hours last night we deployed the second retriever through the doorway. Almost a full 12 to 30 now has passed with no activity from the other side, before she too was declared a loss. Further use of the retrievers is currently being debated. Personal note, I cannot lie my own faith in Project Demigod and its merit has wained significantly since commencement. I can't blame those that have deserted the project. In I felt compelled to do the same when I realized we'd sent yet another sweet, innocent child to their death. I'm honestly not sure how much longer I'll be willing to go on with any of this myself.

Dr. Pence is also starting to worry me. Up to the present, he's not seemed to give any second thoughts about using the children. I'm sure the others feel the same. They see it too, the way in which he all but directly sees them not as children but simply his tools. Well, he is a brilliant man and has built much rapport with the scientific community and with the higher ups of monolith. But I'm finding myself wanting to trust him and his judgment less and less. Part 4. Entry 11. Due to breach of conduct and ethics, Dr. Emile Pence has been withdrawn from any further involvement with the project. On a routine checkup of the remaining

retrievers in the loft. One of them notified me that he'd selected another of their number to be taken back to the site. At that time, I'd not been made aware of any decision to continue with another retriever trial. This proved to be the case, indeed, when asking the others why I'd not been notified, nor had any meeting being called to discuss the matter. They answered that this was because no such decision had yet been made. When I went into the testing room, I found Dr. Pence guiding the retriever into the doorway. It was too late to halt the procedure, and the third retriever trial was set in motion unauthorised.

Upon interrogation, Pence explained that he'd devised a way to ensure the retriever's return, through virtue of a stuffed teddy bear, theorising that carrying the toy while inside would act as an anchor to our world, thus reducing the chances of getting lost inside the veil. Only five hours later, activity was reported from the other side doorway, and after about five minutes of intense energy spikes, the doorway opened, and from it emerged the unauthorized retriever, along with a live specimen. The trial was a success.

All the same, though, I couldn't tolerate a blatant violation such as this. It was unanimously agreed that Dr. Pence cannot be allowed any further involvement with Project Demigod for the safety and well-being of ourselves and of others. At this time, primarily for our own protection from legal prosecution over this, and for several losses of life, no criminal charges will be pursued against Dr. Pence. Personal note, this situation has served to only further solidify my anxiety about whether or not our work here is justified by the principles of scientific discovery. On the one hand, it would be of course easy to say that Dr. Pence's actions were foolish and wrong, psychotic even. Yet, at the same time,

I can't help but wonder if, like me, he really did only have the best intentions with the larger picture as a whole. What he did was dangerous, not to mention deceitful, but, as stated in the report, it worked. We were successfully able to send and bring back a retriever along with a live specimen. This has led me to ask one big and damning question. Would I, in only a short matter of time more, have perhaps done the same? Entry 12. With the success of the retrieval aspect of the project, we've begun the second phase, the act of mating and breeding with the specimen. Resembling a female, judging by the vaginal genitalia, as well as the appearance of breasts.

Her body is slender, with light yellow skin that almost appears to be glowing, possibly emitting some sort of energy or aura from within her body. Specemen will henceforth be referred to as Hera, named after the Greek queen of the gods and the earth and mother of the mythical demigod Hercules. Herra appears to be mute, being without the appearance of a mouth. It's currently unknown if, and or how she's able to communicate. Also unknown at this time is what sort of adverse effects, if any, might be inflicted upon the breach. reading subjects after intercourse. We left with only speculation for now.

We began with Subject 3. He finished in about three minutes and was escorted back to his quarters with the other four subjects. We intend to wait another month before making another attempt at breeding. Entry 13 Subject 3 has begun complaining of experiencing extreme migraines, nausea and frightening frightening hallucinations. Subject appears to be. suffering insomnia as well, as testified from the other subjects.

Subject 3 will be given sleeping medication going forward. Herra has remained docile, almost catatonic, since her interaction with subject 3. Any attempts at stimulating her have resulted in nothing happening. In another week, we will attempt to breed again using another subject. Entry 14. We utilize Subject 1 for the second breeding session. He was finished in five minutes. Hera reacted in a way, perhaps more favourably, to subject one than subject three,

judging from the way she appeared to submit more freely to him than the other. Of course, that's only a rough inference. Still so much is unknown about Hera. Her mannerism to her level of perception, and just her overall sense of emotion, made all the more impossible to figure out by her lack of communicative ability. For now we can only guess that she somehow favours subject one. Subject three, on the other hand, has been getting worse and worse.

Despite routine doses of sleep medication, he's still reporting to suffer fits of insomnia and night turns. Subject three has noted on multiple occasions to see a woman's face in his dreams. He describes this person as having pale, jaunt his skin, long, flowing, green, leafy vines for hair and white glowing eyes. He claims it to be tormenting him, chastising him as a person. As well as this, I've personally noticed how withdrawn Subject Three has become from the others around him, always looking over his shoulder at every little noise and even acting aggressively when approached by others.

Considerations now being discussed on the decision to cut Subject 3 from the project. In another month's time, the third breeding trial will commence. Entry 50 In the late hours of the night, subjects one and three engaged in a brutal physical altercation. The other subjects evidently attempted to break up the two, but were unsuccessful. In the end, Subject 3 was the only one remaining alive, having murdered the rest. Subject 3 then attempted to make a beeline for the breeding room to Herra. An attempt was made by one of the other researchers, being without a security team due to limited funds,

to subdue him with a tranquilizer. This resulted in Subject 3, claiming another victim by snapping the man's neck. Subject 3 was finally subdued when he reached Herra once again, stopping and immediately screaming for her to forgive him and to give him peace. This distraction provided an opening for me to come up behind and subdue him with a tranquilizer of my own. Subject 3 was immediately removed from the sight, and steps have been to be able to. taken to ensure that nothing he has seen or done here is spoken about. At this time, with no living subjects remaining, no viable results and no more available funds

for continued experimentation, steps of the discontinuation of Project Demigod are currently in motion. Most of the already skeletal staff have taken leave already from Monolith Site D. Remaining on myself, Dr. Orne, and two of the other physicians from the project. In two days' time, monolith officials will be coming to remove the equipment and seize all data that was gathered during the duration of Project Demigod. In conclusion, Project Demigod was a failure. Entry 16. This, as well as any possible notes or recording of these events going forward, will be an unofficial record. It was at around 0.1.30 hours this morning that I and Dr. Orne were awakened by what sounded.

sounded like whales of pain coming from the breeding room. Upon investigation we found the source of the sounds to be coming from Hera, despite having no mouth to scream from. Her stomach was extended and she was clutching it as she appeared to writhe in agony. Her wailing became deafening with each passing second, and I and Dr. Orne were unsure of what to do. We decided to open the breeding chamber she was contained in, an attempt to administer any medical aid we could in that moment.

We had no surgical supplies and only a limited supply of select drugs, mainly anaesthetics and morphine. We weren't sure, given her supernatural nature, what kind of effects the drugs might have on her. But in the end, we took action and administered a small dose of morphine to her. She jerked violently, flailing her arms around wildly, swiping and clawing at the air like she was fending off a predator

before finally relaxing. A quick check of her vitals confirmed that she was still alive, merely unconscious. Dr. Orne and I are both very curious as to what caused Herrera so much pain like that. Unfortunately, with the equipment decommissioned and officials arriving in a day's time, were unable to pursue the matter any further. Entry, 70. Official or otherwise, this will be my last report on Project Demagogue. It was this time two days ago now that Hera awoke, crying in pain once again.

This time was far more painful and her stomach had swelled even bigger in size from the last time. When myself and Dr. Orne attempted to investigate, we were met with a shocking discovery. Hera had gone into labour. Immediately we fetched a pail of ice and water to keep her hydrated during the delivery process. It was here, however, when a number. another far stranger phenomenon occurred. While we attempted to aid in the delivery process, Dr. Orne began seizing and clutching at both her stomach and her temples.

She then began screaming at that she could hear a voice speaking to her, taunting her, similar to the earlier situation before with Subject 3. This was then followed with Hera's body abruptly going motionless, while Dr. Orne began writhing and flailing, shrieking like Hera was. Dr. Orne underwent this hysteria for almost a full minute before her body seized up, stiffening, with her eyes rolled back into her skull. Her jaw distended and, in a voice I know not at all how to describe, she said to me, You, doctor, you murdered men and children are now this woman, and to what end?

You wish to bear God unto the world, and you will. You will father a child born from me, the fruit of your perverted ambition, and he will serve only as a reminder of such. You will look upon him, not with pride but with grief at what you have done, and the day will come when his memory will be the end of you, a day when this child your man-eufatcher God will find out who he truly is. You will hear my call in his heart, and will command power against you and all men like you the likes no man before has ever fathomed and will raise you all to ash upon her

speech's conclusion I heard a sickening crack of bone and squelching sound followed by something protrude nearly breaching from dr. Orne's stomach this happened again this time succeeding in breaching her flesh what emerged was a tiny chubby foot belonging to a newborn infant. It waved frantically at the air. Dr. Orne's convulsing body slowly began to die down until fully relaxing in death. From her stomach the spawn's hand began trying to free itself

and the rest of it from Dr. Orne. Orne. Or for a moment I simply stared on in terror before cautiously approaching the body. Still not yet having developed any muscle strength in its arms, the newborn couldn't free itself the way it evidently wished it. Unaware of any other action to take,

I took a pair of sutures and the scalpel and performed a very crude emergency C-section, successfully birthing the child as well as sealing the deceased Dr. Orne back up with the sutures. The newborn screamed and wailed, taking in its very first breath. I looked into the infant's eyes.

It had light yellow skin, just as Herra had had. I also appear to bear other resemblances to Hera, such as the eyes and light green hair. The miracle had happened. I, Dr. Weston Greer, bore a godlike creature unto the earth. But the question remains. Just to how high a price was my success achieved. I took the child in my arms and heard it from him.

Suddenly it fell unconscious, and I watched its skin change complexion from its original yellow. to a more natural shade of olive. His hair too changed to a darky brown. It looked peaceful, resting in my arms, and yet I felt none of the warmth this feeling should bring. Instead, all I could think of as I watched it sleep were the lives that were senselessly spent simply for the pursuit of scientific expansion.

It was with this in mind that I made the decision that I would raise the child myself. Taking the child, I seized this file and ran from the very, facility where I've presently gone rogue. I've gone through the process of changing my name, as well as finding a new home, somewhere they're likely not to think to look if and when they do come for me and or the files. I live now under the name of Gerard Bishop and the child I named after my middle name, Joseph.

Admittedly, I fear those dying words. A day will come when his memory will be the end of you A day when this child your manufactured God will find out who he truly is You will hear my call in his heart And will command power against you and all man like you I worry that despite my best efforts to raise him with love Something will happen to turn him against me one day when he grows up What exactly will happen when such a time comes? I know not

nevertheless as long as I can help it Joseph will live a peaceful life with me everything that has happened and everything I do now going forward is for him my life's true work I stared for what felt like ours at that page then I flipped back and read and re-read through it again I couldn't believe what I just read

no I wouldn't believe it my father a brilliant and celebrated scientist accomplished his greatest achievement by murdering others in the name of science, at least two of which were children. And then even more horrifically, I was that achievement, born and bred out of blood. No, no, I didn't want to admit it was true, but deep down, I knew it was. The more I thought back, the more the pieces of a lung, unsolved puzzle began falling into place.

I knew now why Dad was almost never around And I now understood why it petrified him so much When he found out that I've been reading those books I wasn't just his son I wasn't just his greatest achievement I was his reminder of the price of pursuing knowledge Moreover I now understood myself Why I was always drawn to the books

Those stories those worlds the characters I think that's what he feared most that I would learn the truth. That was why he sent me away all those years ago, why he never tried to see me or explain any of this to me himself, why his life ended the way it is. He feared the truth, and even with the best of intentions,

he travelled the long, dark road to have. I write this now because the truth needs its day. After all, it's what I was born for. Our second feature-length story this evening is The Forest Experiment Part 1 Site 12

March 14th, 2008 I marched like a disgruntled drill sergeant through the sterilized hallways of the facility My fists clenched and teeth gritted For once there are actually some wrinkles in my suit As I hastily make my way to find the ice queen herself Dr. Athena L. West Besides, wing was definitely the most complex part of the building to navigate, but I managed.

Although the higher-ups in the agency would be disappointed to know if the guy they promoted to the director of operations still didn't know his way around a wing of the facility, well, I find the door to the room I'm looking for. Two guards stand on each side and dressed in black. Assault rifles held tight as they suddenly look at me with obedient hesitation. Good morning, sir. the one on the left greets me with a knot, clearly faking his enthusiasm for seeing me, but they all did, a bunch of ungrateful fools they were. Good morning, Mr. Bowser, credentials.

The guard on the right follows up, holding out a hand as if to invite me to put something in it. Why do I have to present my credentials all of a sudden? I blurt out, my short fuse now coming to the forefront. The two guards flinching slightly despite my lack of any firearms or weapons. The both of them share a glance of confusion before returning their attention to me. The one on the left staring rudely with wide eyes. It's a part of the new protocol policy, sir. The one you signed off on.

Whatever. It's a hell with both of you. I snob. Pulling out my identification and credentials card and holding it up in front of me with a strained look of frustration, giving the impression that I was seconds away from pouncing on both of them. Ted Bowser, Director of Operations, Property of the Agency. Okay, sir, thank you. Sorry for the delay. The guard on the right apologises before stepping off to the side and allowing me to open the door. My bitterness is palpable as I pass by

the two meatheads. The room on the other side greets me with a mark. white finish, no stains, spills or mould anywhere to be found. Computer monitors and L-shaped tables loaded with all sorts of different chemicals and experimental tools surround the inner square of the expanse. I keep my way towards the centre of the room and down at the end stands a more than familiar woman in a lab coat. Her blonde hair done in a neat ponytail as she continues to keep her eyes focus forward. Not even turning around despite my lack of graceful sight. when entering but it makes sense she was too caught up in another one of her experiments but this one was beyond extraordinary as she put it calling herself

its mother and whatnot it was fucking weird thing just sat there in a tank right in front of her floating in a light green liquid with all sorts of wires connected to its body and engraving at the bottom of the outside of the tank reads subject sixteen Dr. West's freakishly prized possession. To me, it was nothing more than a waste of precious budget dollars. Your guys dropped the new recruit at the location. West informs me, once again still not giving me the time of day when it came to body language.

He's only a recruit if he survives the trial, I reply with a no-nonsense tone. Don't get ahead of yourself, West. Oh, she then turns, this finally being the thing that gets her to enter eye contact with me. Her expression wasn't one of anger, no. It was more or less mild irritation. An emotion that both of us felt quite often around here. Let's not forget this was all your idiotic idea, Ted. She barks.

We waste all this money, time, and our classified information recruiting new agents when we could just use him more often. West bellows, punctuating by pointing at the tank holding 16a inside of it. We use him plenty enough, I shoot back. Not every single cryptid is worth the resources we have to use to feed this son of a bitch. Whatever, she complains, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes, turning her back to me in order to continue looking at the tank. When you can, turn those experimentation B files into me. I need them in the system soon so we can move forward with implementing our new record-keeping system.

It's already done, so go ahead and take a look or do whatever needs to be done to get yourself far away from me. West's knots of thirst for control over the conversation rivaling mine. One day someone's going to slice that bitchy little smirk right off your face. I retort before heading to the door, picking up the pace to get out of there as fast as possible. but it was obvious that West was still dead set on getting the last word. And one day you're going to regret being so much of an arrogant child as you are. Your head's far too big for your neck. Find that rich coming from you.

I fire back with a final statement before throwing my hand on the knob, almost tearing the door right off its hinges. But I don't yell, scream or lose my cool. Not in the traditional sense anyway. now I simply begin my walk down the hallway back to my office. Multiple agents passing by as they continue to do their sweeps of the building. Good morning, sir. One of them greets cheerfully, taking a hand off his weapon to signal me a wave. The Forest of Wyoming, March 15, 2008.

Camping and activity that lots of people love and enjoy more than anything. Oh, the soothing isolation from the hustle and bustle of civil civilisation. the smores, bullshitting over a campfire. Once you get past the insects and occasional rain, things aren't so bad, unless you run into a bear or mountain lion. All that is, until it happens to you involuntarily, there's nothing that gets your adrenaline flowing and mind racing like waking up in the middle of a campsite with no memories or recollection of events leading up to the strange and rather terrifying circumstance.

I do the typical thing, slap myself several times over just to make sure I'm not having some vivid nightmare. But no matter how many times I strike my cheeks and leave behind a stinging sensation, nothing changes. Not my surroundings, my environment or consciousness. I really am trapped out here in the middle of the woods all alone. Let's just say it's not an easy reality to accept. I stand up and try and get my bearings. I can only see pine trees in every direction I glance, further cementing the fact that I'm truly isolated.

But it wasn't all completely hopeless. After doing a 90-degree shift to my body, I find a tent with what looks to be a box of some supplies next to it. A complete, an utter godsend. Well, so I thought. The little discovery led me to the conclusion that someone had done this to me. No extreme sleepwalking or anything. of the sort, no. I was kidnapped, drugged, and taken here. But why? What for? And most importantly,

what did they need with me specifically? That wasn't anything special, just a bartender, not very tall, well built or experienced in many fields other than making drinks and bullshitting with patrons. Regardless, I had more important matters to worry about at the time, so I marched my way over to the tent, listening for any sounds besides the bar. birds chirping while I wiped away the last of my eye-boogies. Not that I was actually tired or anything close to it. I kneeled down once reaching the box, placing my hands on either side and pulling the top flaps open, half expecting there to be a raccoon inside, feasting on whatever little crumbs

it could get its claws on. But no, instead I am shocked beyond expectation when I lay my eyes upon a fresh loaf of bread, two bottles of water, a shotgun with a bag of shells, as well as a suspicious camcorder, along with a backpack on the side which I assumed was for the purpose of holding all these items, meaning this probably wouldn't be my permanent spots, but it was a good thing. I was planning on getting the hell out of here anyway, and this was the only thing holding me back. I inspect the loaf of bread, finding out the barcode on its plastic wrapping is covered in some sort of strange, crudely taped on piece of paper with a string of six numbers written on it in purple pen.

892-506. Part of me wondered if the bread or water was even safe to consume in the first place. But after shrugging the numbers off as a clueless nonsense and putting it in the backpack, I immediately grabbed the shotgun to check if it was loaded. I'd shot firearms a few times in the past just for practice of my uncle, but I am well the furthest thing from a gun expert I did make sure to have a look at the safety as well

I was always told the phrase I never pointed a gun as someone you don't intend to kill as a kid I did what I considered the most logical thing and assume this forest was in my home state of Wyoming which meant there was a good chance that I could run into either a black or grizzly bear neither of which sounded exactly pleasant

but I'll take the black over the grizzly any day well of course this generous offering of supply still doesn't get rid of the fact that i was not only horrified at my current situation but hungry for answers answers i knew i would only get if i made it out of here alive so i packed everything up as fast as possible finish loading the shotgun and set off but only once i move further into the trees does the eerieness truly begin to set in well people will always go on and on about how creepy forests are at night but to me they're almost as unsettling in the day but at least you can actually

see more than a few feet in front of you I guess like I said camping and activities such as that are fun but you can't tell me you've never once found a little jumpy while walking through the woods alone if you're brave enough to even do it in the first place that is I keep my grip around the weapon tight looking through the unchanging tree liners any sense of security left

begin to fade away leaving me with nothing but the sound of branches crunching beneath my feet as I tried to keep my head narrow I wanted to find some sort of shelter a cabin in the shack hell I'd even take an outhouse over just a tent a tent isn't going to defend you very well once a bear realizes you're inside it or some psychopath with a knife but maybe they'd flee once they got a whiff of the inside I hiked and hiked for what was at least a few hours and found absolutely nothing. No change in scenery, no structures, no clearings or openings in the trees.

Nothing that gave me any sign that I was actually progressing, just more of the same. I stopped, not wanting to waste all my energy on this pointless journey to nowhere. Deciding to sit down and rest my back against a girthy tree, however,

I wasn't going to let this time of rest be completely unproductive. I take my backpack off and swing it around, reaching into the last, large flap and grabbing the strange-looking camcorder and turning it on to look through its potential contents. I go to the previously saved recordings. The thing is a pain in the ass to navigate, so it takes me a few minutes to get through all the settings and such that I didn't understand. More than likely due to the fact it seemed to be a recent model, no older than a year.

But once I'm in the previously saved recordings, there's four videos, two at the top and two at the bottom of the script. I try clicking on the video located in the bottom right-hand corner, but it doesn't play. Neither does the one directly to the left of it or above it. So I move over to what should have been the first video, the one in the upper left-hand corner, immediately hitting play as soon as the border of it is highlighted. It takes a few seconds to load, the screen eerily blinking a few times before the contents of the video finally begin to play. I instantly recognize the setting in both the thumbnail and the first several frames of the video.

It's a view of the campsite where I had awoken. In the bottom left-hand corner of the video, the date is stamped in bright white letters. June 16, 2008, 5.52 p.m. Whoever is operating the camera is still standing around 15 yards away from the actual tent and supply box. but the person recording has clearly done this many times before the camera is held extremely steadily and with purpose very little shaking or swaying is present as it focuses in on the centre of its shot me there i am i am flat on the ground like a clueless moron as i slumber not yet awake and realizing my horrifying predicament behind the camera i hear faint breathing begin to pick up as the shot is centered and zoomed in on my um unconscious figure. It's almost like the cameraman is excited, thrilled in some sick, sadistic sort of way. It grows deeper, a bit of a rast to its nasally tone. Definitely a man or a woman trying to disguise herself as such and doing a pretty good job. But all that didn't matter. I thought being out

here stranded completely alone was stomach churning enough. But now I was absolutely sure that someone was stalking me, watching me, and playing a twisted mind game. Well, the gun made me feel more comfortable, but it was obvious to me that the person recording me sleeping was probably the same person who brought me out here and also gave me the surprise, which means there was a good chance they had a weapon as well. I try watching the second clip that was saved, but the thing refuses to let me open it. Whoever this was had to be extremely tech-savvy. enough to tamper with a camcorder in this fashion.

I hadn't ever heard of certain recordings being locked on some sort of arbitrary invisible timer on a somewhat recent model like this. Maybe I was just ignorant. While I wasn't inept, I was never really known for being a computer whiz. But, just as I'm about to close the camcorder up and put it back where it came from, I hear an alarming noise from behind, causing me to quickly grab a hold of the shotgun and cock it. ready for a fight to appear at any second.

A rustling continues to make itself known in the trees. I can't help but point the barrel upwards. My finger grazing the trigger as I try to find the source of the sound. My heartbeat rising with every passing moment. It all goes silent once again. No birds or animals of any kind. I start to turn my head 90 degrees. My instincts telling me that whatever originally created

that noise wasn't in the same spot any longer. I then turned my head in a 180, the silence only furthering my unease and mild adrenaline rush. At this point, I would have rather had whatever it was just jump out and come after me, but no, who or what it is is taking its time. He wants me to be scared, to let my guard down and panic. I mentally demanded myself to just stay calm

and keep my hands steady on my weapon. taking a few steps back without looking behind me, causing me to tumble over a branch and fall onto my back. A crash against the ground, the shotgun falling over to the side as I groan. A few pine cones lay underneath me and painfully collide with my back as I impacted the dirt below. But the sharp little sting of the cones pressing against my back was nothing in comparison to what came next. Rustling in the trees picked up once more, this time for a much lengthier, than before several seconds at the bare minimum prompting me to quickly turn over and grab the shotgun once again in my panic I'm able to pinpoint the exact tree where the rustling is coming from

watching as the upper branches and pine needles move in unison but no creature or being emerges from the top not a living one anyway a human corpse suddenly comes crashing down smashing through a couple of the smaller branches below on its way down. This, of course, only creates scratches and small flesh wounds on his sickly pale skin, on the body with, next to no blood, barely running from the broken skin. The corpse impacts the ground face first, only a few yards away from it. I don't step forward, or not at first. Instead, I keep my weapon trained on it, as if it was going to suddenly reanimate

and try to rip out my jugular with its teeth. Let's just say I'd watched one too many movies in my time. I'd start checking my surroundings, imagining Mother Nature just letting bodies start to rain down from the trees. It's not every day one just drops right in front of you. But considering everything else that had so far occurred, I guess it was a bit foolish to expect any sense of normality. And although I used this term lightly,

I did eventually grow somewhat comfortable enough to approach the body. Not that I still didn't have both a million questions and emotions running through my head. I inched my way closer to the corpse, careful not to snap any loose branches or twigs as I closed the distance. Perhaps I wasn't the only thing that had heard this thing fall. Of course my mind is coming up with every single terrible scenario that it could dream up, be it possible or not. But none of that comes to fruition. The corpse just continues to lay there, slowly running away and once in a moment. slowly running away and once again becoming a part of the environment.

Once I get about a foot away, I lean down slightly, kicking the corpse with my left foot and keeping a cautious expression strong across my face. And it turns out I had perhaps spoken too soon. The body suddenly began to thrash from side to side, as if something was inside trying to force its way out in a desperate attempt for survival. I moved back and fire a shell into the back of the body, the kick making me fumble a bit but not completely follow. over like a clutz. My right ear ringing just a bit from the raw decibels that this thing had produced.

But none of it mattered. The corpse still continued to animalistically throw itself and tilt every which way. This is despite the fact that I'd blown a sizable hole in its back. It soon became clear as to why the gunshot did nothing to stop the strange convulsions because I'd hit the wrong spot. Without warning, the back of the head bursts open like a gore-filled water balloon, blood and spongy brain matters spilling on the side of the face and around the head. The ground underneath becoming soaked in all sorts of horrendous bodily fluids that no man should ever have to witness. But, well, didn't end there. From the fleshy hole emerges a familiar yet completely alien-looking entity, something you'd find in a sci-fi movie. It's about the size of an

average adult man's hand, possessing the abdomen and body structure of a black widow spider but with a number of legs more in line with that of a damn millipede. Its skin was a glossy grey, giving it an almost metallic appearance. Although there was still a sizable bit of blood covering its surface area due to where it had violently just emerged from. No eyes could be seen or discerned. But it's not like I was specifically searching for them at that time. No, I was far too busy frying the bigger fish of how the hell this thing could have torn through a human skull as if it were wet toilet paper.

A creature sits in its gooey mess of gore, slowly using its hundreds of grotesque legs to turn and do what I assume was glaring at me with a ferocious malice. It sounds as simultaneously barely but painfully perceptible, high-pitched screech, almost as if a dog whistle

was lodged in its throat. The creature effortlessly producing this horrific sound, which was much louder than it had any right to be. Its legs twitched and slowly. point upwards towards the sky in a sickening unison before dropping back down and piercing the remaining flesh of the scalp it was perched upon. It was quickly becoming clear to me that this thing would soon lunge its way over in my direction with its horrifying exoskeleton. I cock the shotgun

once again before firing, bracing myself harder and mentally preparing myself for the deafening sound. I then put my finger back on the trigger and pull, obliterating the creature and finding it not to produce any blood, despite it being completely blown apart with a direct hit. I wasn't a person who was scared of bugs. Not too much, but that thing unlocked some sort of primal fear lodged deep within me, every single alarm in my body and brain going off the longer that I'd looked at it. But I could only be glad that it was gone now. If only I knew how little time that euphoria would actually last.

But I still didn't answer the question of what it were really, was or where it had come from. I took a little bit of time to cool down and try and regain my footing on a psychological level. Doing a quick sweep of everything around me, seeing it was practically confirmed I was being watched at this point. It was only a matter of time when I'd have an encounter with this psychopath rather than if I would. Luckily or unluckily, depending on your perspective, I couldn't see anything. Nonetheless, leaning down and inspecting what was left of the dead body, flipped it over to see the face, ignoring the criticised hole, stealing the back of the head. I look over the features, studying them a bit before coming to the conclusion, I didn't

recognise this man at all. But whoever this was, they were in some sort of business suit. Well, it was torn up and embedded into the skin here and there, but enough was intact for me to realise what it was. Strange. I thought at first this guy could have been another victim of the same guy that put me here, and there was a chance of that still being the case, but it still didn't explain the mutant-looking millipede exploding out of his skull. There was a good chance he was still alive when it decided to crawl up inside him. But I didn't have time to sit around and mourn a man I had no conation to. I had to get going. There was plenty of daylight left, and I intended to use every second of it. And if there was one positive aspect, I could grab

from all this. It's the fact that I didn't have to explore these woods at night, all alone in a perpetual feeling of darkness. Although if I didn't find Shelter soon, that would inevitably become the grim reality. So once my backpack was strapped and I had the shotgun held in my left and I poured out the camcorder to check if the second video had been unlocked. Well, I guess unlocked would be the correct term. And to both my surprise and dread, it was. The frame depicts what I can only assume is a pond somewhere in this dense hellhole of a forest. A murky, swamp-like body of water almost covered by the tall weeds of grass surrounding it.

All sorts of natural filth and overgrowth floating along its barely visible surface. I keep walking forward as I hit play on the video. My eyes focused intensely on whatever was to come next. A camera sat still, no movement whatsoever. even after picking up a blood-curdling sound coming from the right, just outside of the frame. The audio quality was far from great, but it was good enough for me to discern it was a scream of a woman. A truly terrified lady who sounded like she was seconds away from being brutally slaughtered. Not that I could actually see her in the video itself.

Only her pleased for mercy and screams of horror made her presence apparent. The camera suddenly zooms in on the pond, but only slightly. allowing the field of view from the previous shot to still be mostly intact. The water in the pond suddenly begins to ripple, the fallen grass floating along its murky surface moving in unison with the small waves. I squint my eyes, the lighting of the video indicating it was being filmed somewhere around the late evening hours of the day. I watched as the waves created by the ripples began to grow bigger, now splashing up against the dry land slope leading down into the water.

And in only a matter of seconds, the source of the aquatic movement makes itself known. A group, or rather, an army of those mutant millipede creatures emerges from the water, all of them crawling up the land slope in a sickening, military-esque formation. Their legs all practically synced up together. I estimated on the spot that there had to be at least 40 or so of these things. The herd travels about a dozen feet away from the edge of the pond before suddenly, halting. A lot of them turning to focus their attention on the lady's

screaming out of frame, whoever she was. Once they're apparently looking in her direction, they raise their legs and point them into the air. The creatures letting out their recognisably painful high-pitched screeches in unison. Even the audio in the video is loud enough to make the

camcorer itself vibrate right in my hands. The one's hat was only grow more potent as their legs come back down to ground and they begin to crawl towards her off-screen. I found myself deeply disgusted at my own morbid curiosity to finish the clip, but part of it is due to the fact I could potentially find more useful information about the creatures in here. Especially now that it was confirmed I'd probably be dealing with way more than one in the future. The woman's futile cries for some sort of divine intervention, cut short by what I can only describe as one of the creatures attempting to crawl its way into her mouth. The sound of her throat being viciously clogged by its mass as it forces its way deep.

deeper into a esophagus. Of course, well, I couldn't actually see any of this, but fear of the unknown and the unseen is a powerful thing. As to what the creatures did once they were inside a human body was still a mystery. I was only, unfortunately, aware of what had been so far displayed in front of me. The camera began to shake vigorously, but the scenery didn't change. It still focused on the pond with that haunting, muffled, choking screams of the woman erupting throughout the area she dies her slow agonizing death at the hands of these many-legged demons but why not help her i mean what sort of fucked-up psychopath would just let this happen much less documented as it happened perhaps whoever this was had some sort of connection to those things luckily the horrific clip

ended after only a few more seconds of shaking i was left there to contemplate the added gravity to the situation. And those things. Someone had put them here. Very least someone is feeding people to these things. But why? And it might also give me tools to fight them off if that's the case. While all of this was still to be discovered, I did connect the dots that the

woman in the video must have been tied up or restrained. These things didn't seem very hard to outrun in a straight sprint. No doubt they could even catch a mouse. Was this some sort of sick game? I mean, was I nothing more than a test subject or lab rats? What was the woman in the video supposed to be an example of one of the potential fates that I could meet in this whole ordeal? Well, just to be better safe than sorry, I tried to watch the third video, only for it to not allow me to do so,

prompting me to put the camcorder back into my backpack and turn to head off into the trees to continue my quest of finding something resembling secure shelter. But, well, if I was being honest, unless I stumbled upon a nuclear-proof bunker, nothing was going to make me feel safe out in these woods. I'd definitely be sleeping with one eye open, assuming I was even able to fall asleep in the first place. While I was on the move, I did end up noticing a slight dip or decline in the ground several yards in front of me. Trees grown at all sorts of odd angles, one of which must have had some sort of seriously intense fungus or disease, as the bottom five or so feet were covered in these nasty-looking spore plants.

A mucous green with these dark red rims on the edges to the openings. Of course I don't dare touch them. God knows what kind of zombie apocalypse would begin if I did. I can't help but study them, squinting my eyes to see what might be inside the spores themselves. But all I can make out is a lifeless, void-like black. They secrete a sort of white pus. Similar to what comes out when you pop a pimple.

It wasn't a whole lot, but enough to spill over the edge of the spore rim and drop onto the ground. A bit of it pooling up at the base of the tree. I backed up as it came within inches of touching my shoe. It doesn't help the fact that I nearly gagged from the absolutely putrid smell of the spores. A scent that I can only describe as a combination of spoiled meat, long-expired milk and mouldy cheese, all of which had been thrown in a trash compactra and then sprayed with skunk. curing. Christ, I cried, holding up my free arm and covering my nose, backing up further as I attempted to shut my nostrils airtight. Well, it was putrid to say the least, something that

would give manure a run for its money, but it wasn't long before the spores gave me something a lot more important to worry about. I looked down at the small pool of pus, still not far in front of me, squinting as I watched it begin to flow inwards, despite no sort of incline. or decline. The thick, milky substance studied to change its shape into that of a narrow river with a pattern of thin lines sticking out of each side. But after looking closer and coming to an unsettling realization, it became clear what the pass was truly

changing into. It began to elongate, growing more and more of those thin lines, except for the fact they weren't just lines, no. They were legs, the legs of those freakish mutant millipedes. The past splitting into different liquid bodies and multiplying its base number for the creatures. The past darkened from its original milky white colour into a metallic grey had known all too well by this point. Its density increasing as well while the details of the creature became more and more apparent.

The pores appeared to explode and self-destruct after secreting a certain amount. I cocked the shotgun as its transformation is nearly complete. The feature of the thing were fully formed after a... few more seconds, but this time I didn't give it the chance to make that ear-piercing shriek or stick its legs into the air. I quickly took aim and pulled the trigger, hopefully blowing the creature back into whatever strange and hellish dimension it came from. But this time it wouldn't be so simple. The remaining spores began to split and secrete out the white pus. A bit of it getting on my shoe this time round, causing me to internally freak out as I tripped and fell straight

onto my back like a threatened prey, dropping the shotgun in the process. I tumbled backwards, multiple somersaults as I groaned and desperately tried to find a branch or an object to hang onto and stop my fall down the steep incline, a rosebush grazing my back and cutting me as if I was a block of cheddar on a cheese grater. My body snapped multiple branches, my back being further scratched and lacerated by assortments of rocks and other debris while I kicked up any loose dirt or soil in the ground on my way down. The backpack was doing very little to save the highest and lowest points my back, only the centre had received next to no damage. But the forest seemed to take pity on me as I finally began to slow down, thinking with only a fraction of a second,

by throwing out my left hand and latching on to a thick tree branch, causing my fall to suddenly stop and send the leftover momentum up into the rest of my body. I slightly swung to the left, nearly hitting my head on the tree in a brutal impact. and after all it's said and done and I am wrongfully sure that my clumsy fall down the hill has ended I looked up back right at the spot where I had been standing and observing the tree with the spores most of which were now destroyed well I expected to see the creatures racing down the hill and coming after me all of them in a terrifying horde of thousands of little legs scurrying across the dirt as they closed in on me but no instead at the top of a hill stood a man, dressed in all black gear like some sort of private military soldier.

An assault rifle gripped in his hands as he stared down at me through a dark visor of some sort. The only things I could visually make out was his mouth, his chin, and just barely his eyes. His lips curled into a shit-eating grin, clearly amused at my misfortune. Hey! I shout. Now attempting, failing to raise myself up against my feet after regaining a balance. still slightly dizzy from the events of my fall.

Who the hell are you? What is this? Well, to my surprise, he actually responds. His voice hoarse and low, like what you'd expect a bull to sound like if it were capable of speaking. Someone who's passed, he chuckles, right before putting one foot forward. Stay back, stay the hell away from me, I holler, mustering up as much courage as possible to stand my ground

despite the power imbalance. I instinctively reached for the shotgun, only to remember. It left my grasp long ago. It's not me you have to worry about. Not yet, he replied in a slow, moving tone, his grin quickly fading into a more blank expression. But after hearing the familiar sounds with the millipede screeches coming from behind this sketchy soldier,

I looked down near his feet, spotting several on each side of him, lining up as if they were about to start an Olympic sprint race. They didn't attack him in the slightest. Instead, it looked as if they actually listened to him, like he was commanding them. A walkie-talkie hanging alongside his utility belt crackled to life with a muffled voice coming from the other end.

Well, he quickly picked it up and held it close to his mouth, pressing down the button to respond to this mystery man. This is Agent Ben. The last of the spores of self-destructed. I've got the PR in position. He's incompetent as hell, and he ain't worth that time. can I please kill him now this is getting old I'm too far away to hear what the man on the other end said but whatever it was it couldn't be good for me but nonetheless I decided my best option at

that moment was to stay put because by the look on his face after the response to his request was made he'd been told no running away seemed like a way to seal the possibility of getting myself shod in the back despite what the man in charge had told him what do you want for me I demanded I didn't do anything to deserve this. Why me? The soldier glared back down at me, seemingly irritated by my endless probing. You've got no family, no one will miss you. And if you survive, you'll find out.

He growled, putting his walkie-talkie back on his belt and turning to walk away. Wait, wait, I plead. And just hold on this. There's got to be some way we can make a deal, an agreement, a pact, something. Are they making you do this? We can help each other out. No, can do. The boss wants to see what you got.

And so far, you're not in prison anyone. Who's the... I began before getting cut short by a bullet whizzing over my head. Startling me suddenly enough to cause me to let go of the branch I was grasping onto. I fell down the short remainder of the hill, a few more fresh scrapes and shallow cuts being welcomed onto my back and arms. My shirt was torn as well. strips of blood staining the torn fabric.

I was clear that the guy didn't actually want to hit me. He just wanted to scare me, just ardle me and move me somewhere else. From my perspective, he got what he wanted. I wasn't nearly far enough away to justify him missing, especially with proper training and experience handling a gun like that. I gritted my teeth as I rushed to get back to my feet, because I could hear the millipedes crawling down the hill in my direction. That's how many of them there were.

Except for this time I didn't have a weapon to defend myself. I had far too many of them to take on without one. My left hand was stinging, a long paper-cut-like scratch running across it as drops of blood leaked out. But there was no time for me to tend to it. Instead, I started to run, pumping my legs with every ounce of strength I could muster, sprinting full speed away from the Millipede army currently on my tail. Even though my previous assumption of their low speed was cranes,

I still couldn't run forever. And if they had great endurance, then I was in serious trouble. But just to be prepared ahead of time, I quickly grabbed the largest stick I could find while dashing through the tree line. It wouldn't save me, but at least I wouldn't die lying on my bat. My screeches were horrendously ear-shattering behind me. I could hear them growing quieter as time went on,

indicating that I was successfully outrunning them, at least for the time B, the forest experiment. Part 2 There are plenty of new horrors to keep my psyche stimulated. Bodies, several bodies spread out across this new section of the forest. Some in the trees, some sprawled out on the ground and laid up against the trunks. I could only pray and hope that I wouldn't join them. The majority of the corpses are decayed, a few of even exposing bones.

all sorts of plants, insects and maggots eating away at their decomposing flesh. I didn't want to stick around for too long, though, for I knew more of those millipedes were inside them, ready to burst out at a moment's notice. I leapt over fallen branches and ducked under eye-level once, keeping my eyes focused on the path ahead of me, so as not to fall and let those things gain any ground on me. The soldier, or agent or whatever the hell he was,

didn't seem interested in chasing me. If he did, I definitely wouldn't have been able to make more than a few steps. But it's not like he really had to, regardless. If these things truly were his minions, puppets and lackeys, then he just needed to wait until I ran out of energy. I turned to look behind me for only a swift moment. Seeing that I truly smoked the millipedes, I could still hear ear-shattering cries from beyond the tree line.

So if I wanted to hide, now was the time to do it. several hours in front of me set a small pit or at least that's what it looked like at the time I tried to spin around and spot a better option but nothing came into view more than all that or the fact that I was just far too panicked to actually see anything

I couldn't risk waiting any more precious moments though and my opportunity to find somewhere to catch my breath who was quickly fading so with little time left I jumped into the pit I couldn't risk those things seeing me actually entering it though. This way I had a chance to hide out in here and let them pass by on the ground above.

Now that I was actually inside the pit though, I was able to get a much better grasp on the details of its loose dirt walls, roots, insects, and the loose branches embedded within them. I tried to put my back against one dirt wall of the pit in order to get some recovery time from the fatigue. But instead of feeling bumpy dirt surface attempting to poke its way through my shirt. I felt nothing. Instead, I just found myself laying flat on the bottom of the pit after a quick and clumsy collapse. Well, you can imagine my surprise when I turned back to see the tunnel, a cross-space-sized tunnel inside the pit. I didn't immediately go in. God knows, I was having trouble deciding whether or not it was a trap or a blessing. Considering my luck thus far,

I was inclined to lean towards the former. You see, the tunnel behind me wasn't you. You see, the tunnel behind me wasn't just dirt. Only a few yards after the beginning of its depth, it was no longer made of dirt or any natural material. Instead, I could see the shine and reflection of metal. The screeches of the millipedes quickly amped up for every second that I sat there contemplating my next action. But with every moment that passed, I seriously began to reconsider my previous plan of just hiding in the initial pit itself and praying they didn't notice me. There was one little slip up, and I was a goner. Yes, it was a plan that success would be entirely based on it.

It was I to decide they couldn't just look down a damn hole. I mean, they already appeared more intelligent than what you'd expect from Millipede. No Einstein's by any means, but I'm unfortunately confident they'd notice my presence, or at least some of them would. Well, if it were only a couple of them on my tail, maybe this idiotic idea would actually have a chance. I took a few glances back at the rest of the pit and entered the tunnel, darting my eyes from side to side like a crazed mental patient.

I knew what had to be done, which was the lesser of two evils, but still didn't mean I had an easy time making the decision to take my chances like that. Overall, I knew the truth. One was nearly guaranteed death, and the other was potentially death, or perhaps something even worse. I got down firmly on my hands and knees and began to do that. to crawl into the tunnel, just as I could hear the rapid footsteps and hellish cries from the millipedes coming right towards the edge of the pit.

Careful not to let the backpack scrape up against the dirt above me, I also left the stick I'd picked up behind as it would just slow me down and potentially make unnecessary noise. They were close, so hauntingly close, the pitter-patter of their many legs only pushing me to crawl faster, cementing the thought that I was correct in my decision to choose the tunnel. I could feel my knees burning as I crawled against the now dense, metallic floor. Even the dirt part didn't feel very pleasant. It was mainly the cold emptiness of it all that bothered me.

I didn't have on very warm clothes. My teeth began to chatter, but only a little. Goose bumps also formed on my legs and arms as I pushed and continued off my crawl. I stayed as quiet as humanly possible, the millipedes marching above me. felt like a soldier in the trenches just waiting below the ground as my enemy moved dangerously close in my proximity eventually the height of the tunnel increased gradually allow me to stand up and walk somewhat normally it was dimly lit getting darker and darker the deeper i journeyed in the dirt ceiling covered with roots and insects were crawling about i pressed forward nonetheless out of curiosity but also necessity as i was ninety percent sure some of the Some of the millipedes had crawled their way into the pit opening. They knew where I'd gone and they were following me. I didn't immediately break into a sprint or a run, too noisy.

I did pick up the pace, though, my footsteps growing in distance as I swung my arms back and forth, my hand still stinging from the cut. Squinting my eyes, I spotted what appeared to be a door about a couple of a dozen or so feet in front of me. Hard to notice at first, being the same color and a rusty tint as the red. of the metal surrounding it. Its main distinctive feature being its bulk, slightly bulging out from the rest of the wall. It was practically a bank vault entrance. The millipedes, they'd now gotten past the dirt section of the tunnel and made it to the metal floors, the walls and the ceiling. I could hear them clear as day. Once again, I started taking bigger steps, swinging my arms

a little faster. But I didn't dare start running, not yet. I was a lot of the a good chance the door wasn't locked. This obviousness of the pit implied these people wanted me to find it. No chains or welding marks, whatever the official term is for that last one anyway. First I heard the screeches and the scampering of their hundreds of legs as they made their way towards me. I wanted to say that I kept calm and maintained my pace at a reasonable level between quiet and efficient, but no, I broke out into a full-on sprint. Turns out walking to keep quiet had done me far more harm than good. I pumped my legs with all my power, keeping my arms close,

so as to not let them bang into the walls of the tunnel. Not looking back as I went, well, I didn't need to. The headache-inducing call of the creatures gave me more than enough motivation to keep moving. I finally made it to the door, nearly forgetting to put the brakes on, almost tragically colliding with it like the clumsy moron I was. I reached out and grabbed the right side of the door, sliding my fingers between it and the wall before pulling with all my might and heaving it open a few inches at a time. The melipedes were right behind me, getting closer with every passing

seconds. Only now did I actually take a chance and look behind me as I continued opening the door, seeing the reflections with their stomach churning exoskeletons on the floor, the walls and the ceiling, all of them nearly engulfing the tunnel itself. Once the gap in the door was wide enough for me to slip in, I wasted no time doing so, grabbing the end of the door and swinging myself around with no time to get a hold or visual grasp on the room I was now in. I groaned and snarled as I pulled the door back shut. Every muscle in my arms and shoulders burning as I used every last ounce of my strength and energy. My veins emerging as I heard my fingers and joints crack. The door creaked with a booming volume as it finally made contact with the wall. But that wasn't the only peace-shattering noise

that filled this strange new expanse. I screamed as I felt something violently pierced my leg not too far above my ankle just after I'd finished closing the door. Whatever it was was going right through my pants as if the material wasn't even there. I jumped backward as I look down, spotting one of the millipies who'd made it through just before the door was finally closed. He had what I can only assume was his head against my leg, blood-staining the fabric of my trousers as he tried to crawl and carve himself into my leg. I fell down after trying to reach for it, throwing out my left hand as I gritted my teeth from the agonizing sting,

thrashing my arm around after I grabbed onto the back end of the millipede, tugging and yanking him away from my leg as he continued to try and bury himself inside it. It was definitely a painful yet strange sensation. Not that I was curious enough to continue learning from my experience. I yelled like a wounded dog after I'd managed to pull him out of my upper layers of skin. He luckily hadn't gotten too deep in. My blood sat on the first quarter inch of the thing's head, but I didn't bother observing it. Instead, I just threw him as hard as I could across the room,

causing him to seemingly die on impact. But, just like the last time, not a single drop of blood emerged. Speaking of my current surroundings, the room itself was about the size of a high-end master bedroom you'd find in an upper-class home, not that it was very sanitary or organized by any means. The left wall was lined with unplugged, switched off and outdated monitors that were covered in dust, sitting atop a desk of equally old and abandoned-looking nature. This stuff had to be from the mid-90s or older. Next to the keyboard sat piles and stacks of all sorts of documents and written records, none of which I could understand at first glance. I looked around for anything to wrap my wound with.

It wasn't bleeding profusely, but at least enough for me to be concerned. Part of me genuinely wondered if I should try using some of the papers on the desk with all the monitors, but there was no way it wasn't covered in all sorts of filth and bacteria that would only make my predicament that much worse. So, for the time being, I just toughed it out. I had plenty of motivation to stay inside this room, and I could hear the millipies crawling up and down the door outside. It definitely seemed strong enough to hold,

but it wouldn't be long before I starved to death in here, unless there was some sort of secret stash of non-perishable food cans and bottled water. Highly unlikely, though. Plus, first we'll get you long before hunger does. My best chance at survival was to wait out the millipedes, or find another way out of this cold, slightly damp, metallic prison. There was little light, I couldn't even tell where the minuscule amount of it was coming from, but I had enough to manage.

The rest of the walls were either bare or contained the same assortment of items and equipment that the first one I laid ice upon did, with the exception of one of the blank walls containing a keypad on it. The idea occurred to me that it would be a benefit to my mental and emotional well-being to try and learn all I could about this place. Not to mention I needed something to get my mind off the stinging of my unattended wound. Well, of course, trying to switch on those dinosaurs of monitors didn't work in the slightest, so instead I started to look through the more physical documents.

A majority of them covered in dust and what looked to be dried up coffee residue. It did catch my interest more so than the rest. Some sort of blueprint. A basic unfinished, unpolished sketch for what was no machine hardware or weapon, at least not a weapon in the traditional sense. No, it looked like a man, possessing four limbs and was bipedal in its drawn stature. Although that's where any human similarities ended, and the more monstrous qualities began. Its eyes were in the shape of your typical home light bulb.

Its arms long, claws as sharp as surgical knives on its hands and teeth that looked as if they could pierce right through steel with little more than a single bite. I shook my head and put the blueprint down, knowing that it didn't contain any information that was helpful to me. I rummished through some more of the documents, flipping through pages and pages of information I either didn't understand or had no prior context to. It felt equivalent to speed-reading a thousand-page novel, word after word, letter after letter, a book which was, basically, in another language. The title of one document did catch my attention, though.

I put it out from the rest of the papers, not. even paying mind when the rest fell over and scattered amongst the floor. I raised and held the document steady with two hands. At the top, reading the heading in bold, big, black letters. Recruitment process 43E. Authorization of Ted Bowser, D.O.O. of Site 12 facility. Hmm. Ted Bowser? Was that the strange soldier? I doubt it. I'm pretty sure he was nothing more than a a lackey taking orders from the guy whose name was at the top of this document. But nonetheless, I continued reading. Subject of interest is to be extracted and taken to the following coordinates.

The coordinates in question was stamped with a red bar and labelled classified, which was to be expected, but if I had to take a wild guess, I'd assume it was where I had first been taken. But why record the videos? Was it to study me further, learn as much as possible, possible. I was sure they had a much more intelligent reason than pure and utter sadism. I continued reading on, seeing both the name Ted Bowser and Dr. Athena L. West, popping up several times throughout the paragraphs as I go along.

Although I'd skimmed it multiple times over, there wasn't anything important that I could benefit from in this one either. Oh, I could still hear the millipedes outside the door. At this point, it was becoming more of an annoyance than a sound that instilled me with dread. I knew that it would be quite a while before they actually gave up. I made a last attempt to comb through some more of the documents that had now fallen onto the floor, most of which ended up containing useless information about budget, construction projects for this so-called organisation, and all sorts of other jibba jabber that flew right over my head. I did, however, stumble upon a paper that had its bottom left corner torn off. This by itself was obviously nothing

to write home about until I saw what was written right above it. Key code number 21, access granite to level three clearance or higher. Any such violations will result in immediate execution and or termination. With the paper in hand, I marched over to the blank wall that had the dusty keypad on it. At the top, it had an engraving of two numbers just above where the thin screen that displayed the numbers was. 21 all I needed to do was find the missing piece of paper containing the code although part of me felt like if they were truly this well-funded and possessed so many resources they would surely have just destroyed it but why what was there behind that wall that needed to be permanently hidden or locked away if it was anything like what I'd encountered up to this point and I didn't know what a more terrifying prospect was me being ready for it or not.

I scoped out every possible crevice and cranny, making a full trip around the cold room several dozen times to make sure I'd miss nothing on my previous lab, redundantly scanning my eyes up and down countless times as I tried desperately to spot something. I ran up to the desk and moved the monitors and wires around, checking underneath every square inch of the objects covering the surface of the desk, being greeted with nothing but dust, food crumbs,

and old worn-out-looking flash-dives. An epiphany shredded itself into my psyche as I mentally repeated the phrase, food crumbs, in my head as if I needed confirmation that I thought about it in the first place. I took off my backpack as quickly as I could, dropping it onto the ground and unzipping the largest bit before, reaching my hand inside and retrieving the loaf of bread

that I'd gotten as part of the supplies, left at the campsite for my awakening. It was squashed and battered, to all hell due to my fall earlier. I was just lucky that the camcorder seemed to even still be intact. Those numbers. The numbers on the piece of paper covering the barcode. The six digits written in the purple ink.

892-506. I marched over to the keypad, now fully tuning out the sound of the millipedes, repeatedly crawling around the metallic door. Every step I took now Wasn't fuel by fear It was fuel by pure Unbridled and at this point

Justified rage I threw the tip of my index finger at the keypad Rapidly punching in the numbers The button's sticky and clearly used Beyond their reasonable threshold Now while everything else was unplugged And black screens The keypad still had power

Not that it was anything worth questioning, these people were pushing me where they wanted me, putting me in the right place at the right time like I was a rat in a maze. So, why wouldn't the keypad have power? I punched in the last number, all of them staying on the screen for only a moment before disappearing and allowing a short sentence to appear. Access grounded. Welcome PR number one, 632. P.R. That agent

had kept on telling me he'd passed. mentioning something about a trial of me needing to survive. If what I was assuming was correct, then there was a good chance PR stood for potential recruits. Perhaps I was

wrong, trying to inject too much logic into what was going on. This all had to be a nightmare. It just had to be. I couldn't even comprehend why in the living hell. this was happening to me, billions of people to pick from, and I'm the one who had to endure this game of physical and psychological torture. If only I'd had time to let all that sit, because after the keypad finished its process, the wall began to split right down the middle,

the two sides pulling apart and sliding away from each other in opposite directions like standard elevator doors. A blinding ocean of light flooded into the room, contrasting with the dim and slim to non-lighting in my current expanse. I put my hands up in front of my eyes as I squinted, attempting to adjust to the sudden and abrupt change. But once it started to hurt less, once my eyes began to adjust to the harsh shift of light, I finally laid eyes upon the most bizarre and simultaneously confusing sight that I'd come across throughout the whole mess of mind games and torment. Before me laid a room, white walls, white floor and a white ceiling. pristine and sterilized beyond what was necessary.

If it wasn't for the strange submersion tanks, I'd be the only sign of life in there. Now, speaking of the tanks, there were 15 of them, all around 10 feet in height and 12 feet in cylinder circumference. The glass is clear as day, and inside each tank was a volume of liquid filling it right to the top,

a type of strange, mucous-coloured water that seemed like something out of a renowned university, his chemistry labs, yet it was far from the most outlandish thing in there. Inside each of the tanks was a creature, floating within the liquid, accompanied by a multitude of wires connected to their bodies. Not that they seemed to have much function, because even for supposed monsters, schools, or cryptids, or whatever you call these things, they were highly deformed and almost looked as if they were severely rotting, or with the exception of one. The first being consisting of a multi-headed bird of some sort that had seemingly spliced with human features,

as it had fingers on the ends of the wings and, divorned, primate-esque feet in place of its talons. The toes all bent and crooked in some stomach-churning directions. Another creature being what I can only describe as a supersized brown recluse spider, had a scorpion-like stinger jetting out from its body. That wasn't even counting the fact that the stinger was split into six different sections, all of them leaking a thick, dark purple goo into the tank and discolouring the submerging liquid. On the outside bottom of each of the tanks was a small rectangular plate of metal with an engraving. The first tank closest to the doors saying the following,

Subject 1A. Then I walked over to the second. Subject 2A. Subject 3A, Subject 4A, and so on and so forth. All until I got up to subject 15A, and they ended there. Speaking of that, though, I saw a note that was taped to the last tank. I already knew it was from them, these monsters, the agents, I mean, the depraved people who did this. I got a sworn that I saw one of the creatures in the tank's move their barely functioning eyes to look at me.

It had to be dead. Surely they had to be. It was just my paranoia getting the better of me. I made it to the tank and snatched the note off the glass before picking it up and reading the printed text displayed across the paper. We're impressed that you've made it this far, Mr. Warner. But unless you can survive and complete the final tasks

we've laid out for you to our satisfaction, and you'll not be seen as agency material. No, please. Open up the camcorder we've provided you and watch the third pre-recorded video. It's crucial to your next significant move. Well, I knew full well that I was walking straight into a trap. At the end of the day, trying to resist this would be nothing but few times.

They had the knowledge and the firepower to make sure I did as they demanded. So I had to keep playing their game by their rules. Lord knows, they probably had cameras and listening devices in this area. As long as I went along with this, I should be fine up until the point where I find an opportunity to escape. But I almost felt foolish for considering that as a possibility. I hesitantly extracted the camcorder out from my backpack and opened it up, heading over to the pre-recorded videos and finding out that the third video had indeed been fully unlocked

and was available for me to view, not that the prospect truly excited me, but more or less just satisfied my morbid curiosity. The actual content of the video differ greatly from the, thumbnail frame, indicating that this was more likely done to throw me off or not give away what was to come, the initial image appearing as another section in the forest. Once the video began, however, took place inside this bunker. Two individuals are standing in this very room talking among themselves. The frame is steady, focusing in on the two as they bicker. The one on the left was a woman with long, elegant blonde hair, done in a neat ponytail,

looking to be about middle-aged, dressed in a stainless white lab coat with a pair of glasses resting on her nasal bridge. She had this, dare I say, almost lifeless and cold stare. The only emotion I could detect was just a pinch of malice. In contrast, the man on the right was a bit taller, dressed in a grey suit with not a wrinkle in sight.

His hair short and also looking to be about the woman's age, give or take a few years. His expression was a much more bitter one. as if he quite literally had a stick up his eyes. I knew this place was a waste of our budget, he yelled, pointing a finger at the woman's face. We have 16A. We're not going to waste space back in the main lab

keeping these failed abominations there, she fires back. No, I'm tired of you thinking that you're owed whatever you want, you can just spend our money how you want for your precious little experiments. We need to throw these things into the bottom of the, the goddamn ocean and be done with it, the man muttered. "'I risk the public or the government fighting out?' The woman counters rhetorically. "'Do you want the FBI to be brought down on us?

"'You know the director of operations, "'and you suggest something as idiotic and stupid as that?' "'Look around you, Doc,' he replied, furiously, "'while pointing around the room at all the creatures in the tanks. "'This room is literally filled with your failures, "'wasted budget dollars, wasted man-hours, and wasted time. Who the hell do you think gives us half our funding?

A ghost? The scientist lady steps closer to him, clearly not intimidated by his demeanor, and if she was, she did a hell of a job of not showing it. Project emulate was a success, whether you're man enough to admit it or not. We have a living weapon now, how big gun. He's already disposed of dozens of cryptids,

so go ahead and tell me more about how much of the budget was wasted. She snapped, using air quotes with her fingers and changing her tone into one of a brash mockery. All right, what happens when you see his paper in the picture or someone with enough pull amongst the public says something? Do you know how much more of a pain in the ass that makes our jobs? The police answer to us, sure, but who do you think they'll really choose between us and the Pentagon when the pressures applies? Yeah, they'll need to keep up appearances and we'll have an example made out of us for letting this kind of shit out. out. Conditions of our deal rely on the fact that we need to keep this airtight. If anyone gets a whiff of what goes on in our walls, they either join us or they die. The Pentagon already hides enough

from the morons out there walk in the streets. What makes you think 16A would change their minds, Ted? You need to start thinking with your actual brain and whatever last bits of cells you have within it. Damn it, West. He's learning. He's getting smarter. I just know what you're just know. Boy, one day he's going to come back to bite us in our asses. But I'm going to have to shove a nice tall glass if I told you so right in your face. Only then will you finally see the truth. Both Ted and Dr. West fell silent.

And just from the footage alone, I couldn't tell if they were truly out of emotional energy or if their rage was boiling just underneath the surface ready to explode at any minute. Regardless, this video hadn't given me what I needed to move on. I had no clue. what or who was so crucial in this footage that I needed to see. So I was at a loss, attempting to re-watch the clip over and over

to find what I was apparently missing. But nothing in my mind clicked, no grand revelation that I thought would save me, no cathartic reveal of any important knowledge. I tried pressing on the walls for a sign of a secret door. There had to be some sort of hidden room or extension to this horrific bunker. The ceiling was just as flattened, just as featureless, as the walls and the floor, though. Surely this wasn't the end

that I would just go insane before dying of thirst after all that I'd already survived up to this point in time. I tried stepping back into the previous room to see if there was anything left in there that I could use to get out of here. I'd already come through it to death when looking for the code to the key bag,

but my desperation was far too potent for me to just give up. Despite that being the easiest thing to do, to simply give up and die here alone, isolated, trapped in this equivalent of hell. Just like before, I went through every possible hole, sliver an inch of depth in the area. I smashed apart the back sides of the monitors on the desk and even tried looking inside them. Let's just say I'd watch one too many saw movies in my lifetime.

But throughout my chaotic and destructive rampage, I'd neglected to keep myself aware of my surroundings. and because of that very fact I didn't pick up on the fact that there were no longer the crawling sounds of the millipedes outside the door I of course wanted to be sure as this just seemed way too good to be true my frustratingly cynical mind

wanted me to deny the possibility of it I approached the door cautiously and quietly taking great care to make sure my steps emitted no sound I kept my breathing light and steady putting forth the best effort I could to give the impression I wasn't even there. I gently placed my right ear up against the door.

I didn't know how good these things could hear, so my willingness to risk being detected and reattracting their attention was slim to none. Nonetheless, though, I still didn't pick up any noises coming from the other side of the door, no crawling, no screeching, or any ghastly shrieks. Despite this, I still didn't open the door right away, not without some method of self-defense.

and without the shotgun I was already in a handicapped position so I turned and dashed back over to the desk with the monitors picking one of them up and carrying it over my shoulder in the room with the tanks a tank I gravitated too specifically though happened to be the one containing the giant spider and scorpion hybrid the glass used for these tanks didn't appear to be very strong nothing along the grade of ballistic or bulletproof glass I guess it made sense.

These creatures seemed to be dead and this was all out of commission. Why waste any premium resources on something that's not important to your operations anymore? Plus, I assume the wires did something to prevent them from attempting to breach the tanks. Once I figured I was a bit too close to the tank. I took a few steps back just to be on the safe side before launching the monitor off my shoulder at the glass. The screen on the monitor smashed and the backside got split. it clean in half, but the impact didn't completely break the tank, only sending a long crack up the middle.

Damn, I cursed, running back into the computer room and grabbing another monitor. This time was much quicker, the more haste in my step as I hoisted it over my shoulder and hauled ours back to the tank. My plan was to try and rip the stinger off the dead spider scorpion hybrid and weaponized it against the millipedes. seeing as I no longer had the shotgun I wasn't about to just walk out there without a way to fight off those things

in case they came back not to mention that the big stick I'd had earlier was all the way out into the pit I got as much momentum forward as I could and then I threw the second monitor groaning once it left my hands and collided with the already cracked tank on this attempt

the glass finally shattered immediately sending all the fluid inside, spilling out onto the floor below, trenching both my shoes and the bottom of my pants before it flowed away. The wires connected to the creature, and the tank snapped, all of them disconnecting almost simultaneously as the creature now fell a foot or two to the bottom of the tank. It's lifeless body too heavy without the support of the liquid's density. But here's the thing. I didn't immediately reach for the stinger because, when I look close, and I mean very, very close.

I spotted something that made my blood freeze to absolute zero right there on the spot. Its eyes. They blinked. I was so terribly wrong about this thing being dead, and it was about to cost me greatly. I stepped back as the beast slowly began to raise its stinger, rising up above me and showing its clearly superior and monstrous size. Standing well above seven feet tall and the full length of its stinger jetting out made it clear the nine-foot mark.

All those dark, lifeless black hole-like eyes were focusing right on me. The creature then jerked forward as it attempted to throw its stinger at me, moved out of the way, only avoiding the attack by mere inches. The creature's blow was powerful enough to crash right through the marble of the wall, leaving its stinger embedded within it. but that wouldn't last very long. This did give me the opportunity to run. I had made a terrible mistake, and I was lucky that I'd even live long enough to comprehend it as such.

I leapt across the floor, almost slipping on some of the fluid from the tank after landing. I got to the bank vault-like door, reaching into the crevice and pulling with all my might, surprisingly getting it open much faster than the first time. Well, adrenaline works wonders, especially when you're running for your life away from things that should. shouldn't even exist to begin with. The creature roared a triumphant call, signaling to me it had gotten its stinger-free and was back on the move. I threw myself to the other side of the door, making an attempt to close it before realizing the thing had already gotten far too close.

When I looked outside, I saw the millipedes had disappeared. Even if they were still out there, this thing would definitely continue to be the more immediate priority, though. The beast thrashed its sting a forward yet again Its blow quick, sharp and on point Landing right inside its target Me I yelped like an injured puppy As it pierced its way just to the right of my sternum

Blood showing itself from my shirt As it began to drip down my chest and stomach Luckily there was far less than what I'd pictured inside my head But still enough was present to be alarming Luckily the cut itself wasn't too deep or one while it was extremely painful. I managed to wrestle myself off, falling onto my back and my impact with the ground being accompanied by both a loud thud and a harsh groan from yours truly.

Whatever was inside this thing, I could feel it already beginning to take effect, my chest beginning to turn into the same sickly and dark purple like the liquid from the creature's stinger. I pushed past the discomfort initially, turning and getting to my feet to run for my life, what little was left of it. Sprinting through the bigger portion of the tunnel and trying to make it to the crawl space. On the bright side of this was that the space

would be small enough for me to crawl through, but leave the creature behind as it was obviously too big to follow me. So for the time being, I'd escaped, or so I naively assumed, I could hear it behind me, all those grotesquely massive and hairy legs as they tapped along the metal.

Only further motivating me to get to the dirt crawl space, despite my quickly dwindling strength. Without the shotgun, I wouldn't stand a semblance of a chance against this nearly eldritch beast. Although I'm sure it wouldn't have done me much good anyway. I could practically feel my chest becoming heavier as the venom seeped deeper and flowed its way through my veins.

I probably didn't have much longer, but I'd rather have died like that than being devoured alive by the thing. Not that either option was exactly gratifying. But the creature growled yet again, as I could practically feel his breath down the back of my neck. I was just inches away from the crawl space, every bone aching for me to keep going forward. I launched myself forward and dove into the crawl space, but not before the creature had sunk its stinger into my backpack, dragging me back towards the opening of the crawl space as I dug my nails into the ground to stop it. When it was no use, the thing was far too powerful for me, and so with the first.

lightning speed I maneuvered my arms and got them out of the straps disconnecting the backpack from my body allowing me to go free only avoiding a far worse fate by mere inches i tried to flatten my hands and bear crawl to speed things up every movement feeling like the difference between life and death despite the fact i technically escaped this creature as i kept going forward the beast howled and growled angrily furiously that i slipped away from its clutches but still there was a good chance that it wouldn't matter anyway because not only did my chest look like Barney the dinosaur had vomited on it but the organisation was probably still keeping a close eye on me

I saw the light at the end of the cross-space where the pit was my head beginning to pound with every passing second I felt almost lighter as if I was rapidly losing weight at an inhuman pace I was sure to mentally remind myself that I couldn't give up quite yet not here, not in this claustrophobia-inducing crevice. Luckily, the light at the end did become brighter as I inched closer. My hands red from the scraping against the dirt,

and my forearm's beginning to turn into the purple, alien-like tint of the venom. I only felt true catharsis after breaking through the entrance of the crawl-space and emerging back into the pit, huffing, puffing, and wheezing due to my dry mouth. But for now, I was relieved, relieved that, at least, my current route to the afterlife wouldn't be me screaming as I was torn apart. Well, that was until I heard the distinct clicking sound of two individuals loading a magazine into their respective firearms.

I raised my hands and cautiously shifted myself 180 degrees, seeing two of those agents geared up and having weapons trained on me. One of them with an overly smug smile on his face also happened to be the moron I'd encountered earlier on the hill. The other one, however, lowered his rifle and held out a hand for me to help me out of the pit, causing the other one to grow irritated. But just before I grabbed his hand, he quickly retracted it, taken aback by my admittedly off-putting appearance. Bar three. What the hell just happened?

Did you bust open a can of spray pane on yourself? Geez! No, you don't get it. There's no time to explain. We've got to get out of here. The agent's face scrunches, but after a moment of hesitation, he reaches down to once again give me a hand, albeit a little bit more cautiously than the first time. Why help him? He's going to be dead in a bit anyway. He failed his trial.

The agent with his hand out ignored him, allowed me to grab on before he hoisted me up, groaning while doing so. Yeah, he's right, I admitted, as I helped lift myself over the edge of the pit and immediately clasped onto my back next to a pine tree. Coughing twice into my elbow, a bit of blood accompanying the usual gunk. But I did more than just fail. And after everything you assholes did to me, I'll still warn you that we can't stay here and we need to go. Forget the trial bullshit. I added on with yet another wheezing cough, spotting another group of the millipede standing docile behind the feet of both agents. Why don't we need to go so?

bad what are you on about inquired the more sadistic agent from earlier on one of those things in the bunker i exclaimed as powerfully as i could manage at the time it's out i'll let it out they both shot each other a glance of utter confusion like they had no idea what i was talking about what do you mean it the agent who helped me stepping forward with a suspicious glare. But how in the hell would they not know? The doctor and the director keeping it hidden from them. If so, then why show me? Then, as if on cue, the dirt in the ground a few feet behind the agents was displaced,

sending heaps and chunks flying outward in every possible direction. The sound of a low roar accompanying the noises of the earth being breached. A significant portion of the millipedes were destroyed in the pretext. process, getting flung or crushed by the weight that was far too heavy for what they could manage to support. Then a large, circular bulge with eight long, thin legs explosively jetted out on both right and land. The agents turned to name their rifles at the rising dirt and grass as the mass below

emerged. Breaking away the largest surface area of the dirt and letting it fall and crumble into smaller pieces, the millipedes also beginning to converge on the center of the chaos. But once it all tumbled onto the ground and the mass that had dug its way up from below was revealed, well, I couldn't help but crawl in reverse, hitting my back against a tree as I did so. The scorpion spider hybrid bellowed triumphantly as it finally made its way out, all eight of its hairy and monstrous legs planting themselves in the grounds surrounding it. All of its eyes focused on the two agents,

staring at them like a small child would glare at two frosted donuts. This is Agent Peter. We need a team of units and subject 16A out here immediately. The hostile is on the loose. Even though I was weak beyond belief, with my life force slipping away by the second, I mustered up the courage to make what I thought was a reasonable demand at the time. Hey, give me a gun, now. What? The agent on the left squealed. Does the both of them open fire on the creature?

Hell no. The impact of the bullets threw the creature off its back. but not much more than that. The booming gunfire rang out through the forest, even causing me to cover my ears, the venom from the sting, making my hearing even more sensitive. The creature lunged forward after releasing an angry holler, throwing its stinger out forward and fully impaling the agent on the left. Not just stinging him, no, the stinger had gone clean through his chest and emerged out of his upper back, covered in a thick coat of scarlet red blood. He screamed bloody murder and attempted to climb himself off at the stinger, but his efforts were in vain once his strength quickly slipped away and his demeanour faded. The creature roaring while impaling him even deeper, the stinger tearing clean through his heart and killing him in mere seconds.

The other agent rolled to the side as the creature swang its stinger to the left, throwing off the now deceased agent who had been cruelly cabled. his corpse sent through the air before hitting the ground and tumbling into the pit. I could only watch as my muscles grew even weaker, the slightest movements becoming painful in their own right. A sensation similar to cramps and soreness was manifesting around my body. The agent actually stood his ground quite well, backing up and putting some distance between the creature and himself

before reaching into his utility belt tossing a grenade at the beast. The creature seemed to possess the intelligence, of being able to understand the significance of this grenade, defensively smacking it dozens of feet away with its stinger into a clump of trees. It exploded at the base of a pine tree, disconnecting the upper 90% of the trunk and branches, which in turn caused it to begin to fall over to the side and tumble towards the ground with an explosive thud once it impacted.

The millipedes did little to help, attempting to dig their way into the spider's abdomen with a little success. Its tough exterior making it almost impenetrable, to their main ability. Well, I'll be honest, it was jarring to have to root for those things, and the people that were attempting to kill me just hours ago. But, as they say, the enemy of your enemy is your friend. The agent drew his rifle once more and fired a chunk of rounds at the beast

as it started to horrifically charge him once again. But the agent attempting to evade in the threat en route tragically made the mistake of failing to check his surroundings, backing himself up against a tree and seemingly tying the ribbon to his own demise. I was now too weak to move much besides my neck and head, along with the venom spreading to most of my body as this was taking place. Well, let's just say there was a good chance I wouldn't live long enough to see this play out in its entirety. A battle between two forces of destruction, one of which didn't choose to be the way it was.

On the one hand, I didn't want this gargown. Antichuan killing machine to live and get loose into the world. This monstrosity from the mind of the twisted agency that wanted nothing more than to gain for itself, well, why would they allow me to see these things and not the agents? I still couldn't wrap my head around it. They seemed to have no clue it had existed before it showed up. I couldn't possibly have been anything more than a simple porn or cog in a machine. It knows how many people they'd already had and would do this to in future to whomever those unfortunate victims may be i pray they don't make decisions nearly as foolish as mine it's not that it truly mattered how much i wished for these people to fail in their overarching plans

because i didn't possess the ability to stop them sure i wanted to see these two men live but definitely not the people they work for had they gone through a similar recruitment process and being brainwashed in some way the one who'd attempted to give me a hand still seem to have my most of his individuality intact. Perhaps the other one did as well. He was just naturally a trigger-happy sadist. Regardless, I knew most of their actions weren't made according to their own terms of free will.

The creature reached out toward the remaining agent, not with its stinger, but with its hairy, deformed spider fangs, realizing the agent was no longer in a position to escape its clutches. I tried to scream, to call out to him. But now the pain was beginning to seep into my jaw as well. The simple movement of my mouth now becoming an agonizing chore.

I was now just on nothing more than borrowed time. The agent pulled the trigger to fire his weapon once more, only for nothing to happen in response. He attempted to dash to the side again to reach his sidearm, only for him to be caught and stopped dead in his tracks by one of the creature's legs. This in turn resulted in the agent losing his balance, slipping over and seemingly going to fall on his side before being snatched up by the beast's fangs. The man desperately kicked and screamed, begging for mercy or some form of last-minute intervention

as he watched death loom right in front of his very eyes. I could practically feel his terror, his fear, all the millions of emotions that must have been going through his head at that very moment. He was no longer a soldier, an agent or a killing machine. He was just a human being. being a scared trembling human being and despite what terrible things he'd lightly done and was going to do he wanted nothing more than for the universe to show him mercy mercy that he would fail to receive he even turned over to give me a frightened most existential glance his eyes as wide as humanly possible that's a sense of strange and

unusual connection between the two of us in that short time span I didn't know him and he didn't know me. But the both of us inching towards our inevitable deaths made us realize who we were at the end of the day. Men. Mortal. Human. Men.

Time slowed down. Every second being dragged out into a minute as I watched the creature's fangs sink and penetrate their way into the agent's ribcage. Rightfully prompting him to scream so violently loud that I was sure his lungs would burst at any second. if they hadn't already. His fingers twitched rapidly, his legs being swung back and forth

as he tried to pointlessly escape his hellish fate. But every action only made the creature cause him even more suffering as it took his life right in front of me. The agent's blood began to flow and spill onto the fangs, the smell of iron potent as his screams began to soften and his movement slow. The damage was becoming too much for him to handle in a conscious state, but at the very least his endurance of this torture would end soon.

He belonged to the people who kidnapped me, drug me and brought me out here for nothing more than to brutally condition and break me, all so I could become part of their shadowy bullshit. I doubt I would have even been an actual agent. Maybe a strategist, perhaps, but, I mean, what the hell does it matter now? At least I go smiling, knowing they did nothing more than waste both time and resources. I watched as his screams of agony softened. His eyes became less wild as death quickly gripped a hold of him. The creature only applied more and more force to be sure he met his brutal end.

The man's body contorted and snapped to the right, his ribcage now grossly jetting out from his side, blood and chunks of flesh covering the dismantled bones that once belonged to him. His limbs turned limp, while his broken neck did the same, I think it did. It was hard to tell when his head was nearly doing a complete 180 on it. The beast dropped the corpse of the agents, and despite the presence of a slight incline upon which the creature was standing, the body didn't roll. Exposed ribcage preventing it from doing so, the bones embedding themselves into the dirt.

The creature then gave me a look, but didn't approach me or show much interest in attacking me further. It had witnessed the progress of its faintly wounding of me. I was practically a moba. I'd failed and made a horrible mistake. Not only was I going to pay for it, but potentially others would as well. Others who were hated enough by the universe to end up encountering this thing. My head was pounding like it was hit with the combined power of every migraine ever experienced by humanity throughout history. My eyes felt ready to bulge out of my head.

My ears developed a bit of muffled blockage. Not enough to totally cut off my hearing, but everything sounded a bit more distorted, drowned out, if you will. The creature then turned to walk off triumphantly, with both the agents dead and me soon to join their fate. There was nothing left for it here, and it knew that. It had won, and now it would be set free to cause as much chaos and havoc as possible. But just as the creature began to march off, with its eight,

hairy, monstrous legs. He stood up on its back legs, screeching in high contrast to its more deep growls from before. I, of course, had to take this with a grain of salt due to my now fudged hearing. But this thing sounded like it was in pure agony, a sudden sharp and stern wave of pain. I tried to see what the commotion was all about,

only being able to comfortably move my eyes to see whatever it was that had caused the beast to cry out. Its body blocked the majority of whatever it is, but between its body's body, bottom legs, I could see what looked like two feet, two feet that were far bigger than any man's by a country mile. Thus, I didn't know anyone whose feet and ankles were also a midnight blue shade in color. But that's where any human similarities ended.

The spider scorpion then forcefully fell onto its back, his legs kicking and squirming in a directionless frenzy of panic. But then I quickly saw the rest of his attacker revealing himself. well, if you'd even call it a hymn. The beast standing on the abdomen of the spider-scorpion monstrosity was very clearly by pedal. His arm's body and legs all extremely slim, but that didn't seem to hold him back in the strength department anyway. The entire surface of his body being that same midnight blue as his feet and ankles. His heights seemed to be just past the eight-foot mark, making him able to look the scorpion and spider-hybrid thing right in the eyes.

I wasn't able to spot a single hair anywhere on his body. I mentioned his eyes, yeah? Well, his were strangely shaped like stereotypical home light bulbs. Unlike the spider creature, however, he only possessed two, which sat above his mouth, filled to the brim with teeth just as sharp as katanas. I didn't even include his gloves, long, multiple-inch fingernails at the ends of his hands that looked as if they could cleanly slice through steel. all of which were covered in some sort of dark yellow goo, which had to be the other creature's blood.

It oozed along the bipedal guy's claws as if it were discoloured honey. A blue creature leaned in with a furious expression, staring down the monstrous beast with not a single ounce of fear present within his demeanor, even taking a step further to growl in order to assert dominance. I soon realized just who this was. the creature from the blueprint he was a thing those two were talking about in that video he was subject 16a and although I was relieved by his presence

one thing struck me as odd where was the team of units that were supposedly going to be here with him you've done enough he snarled this one could speak he could actually fucking talk 16A further attempted to intimidate the arachnid by spreading his fingers out to make his claws more prompting

But the spider didn't back down. He launched his stinger right at Sixteen A and attempted to violently sting him. This, of course, failed miserably. Sixteen A countering his attack by catching the stinger and proceeding to slice off the top few inches with one clean sweep of his claws. The larger acne roared and thrashed its mass just hard enough to throw the blue creature off, and a few dozen feet back, summing his back right into a tree and breaking off multiple branches. I could still feel myself slipping away by the second, but if there was anything I wanted to see before I croaked, it was this.

The arachnid lunged forward at 16A, who was still just stunned enough from the previous blow to not react in time. The massive spider creature landed and the both of them smashed right through the trunk of the tree. The blue creature did multiple somersaults backwards, the dirt being kicked up as his body scraped against the ground. Despite the fact he appeared so immensely. his impacts were still

plenty forceful enough. Once he came to a stop, the Eracnid attempted to pounce on him once more and used its fangs to grab hold of him. The blue one evaded this rather elegantly before, latching onto a tree in a quadrupedal crawl, his claws seemingly giving him significant traction

as he scaled the length of the trunk in seconds. His slim figure allowed him to climb with ease while the Eracnid struggled and ultimately failed to do the same, which I thought was morbidly ironic. This strategic move allowed 16A to pounce down from above onto the back of the Arragut, snarling angrily before piercing the set of claws on his right hand into the back of the Arachnid's head. The monstrosity's house of desperate pain and affliction only lasted for mere milliseconds

before his grotesque exoskeleton began to collapse, his legs bending and looking as if they were to snap at any moment, and he couldn't support his weight any longer. But 16A wasn't quite done with him, not yet, despite the fact he'd already finished the job. With his claw still lodged in the beast's brains, he curled his finger as if to grip the insides, right before pulling back, like someone trying to start a lawnmower and tearing the eractus head right from the rest of his body. That same yellow goo I'd spotted on 16A's claws from before came out in full force after the display of such brutality. not that it wasn't earned.

Regardless, his blood practically flooded the surface area below him before flowing its way down into a small crevice between the pine trees. Sixteen A then dropped the head of the beast before dismounting the back of the creature. He then sniffed the air before turning his attention over to me. After which, he dropped down on all force and charged over to my position, seeing that I was in no condition to run or defend myself. He was weirdly elegant as he quickly closed the dothold. distance. And at that moment, I thought you would surely finish me off too, just to tie up loose

ends and leave no witnesses. After all, that was this agency's motto, right? But he didn't. Instead, he stood back up bipedally, glancing down at my pathetic and slumped over mass, as I felt what little consciousness I had slipping away. And there was almost this sorry look in his eyes, like he took pity on me, if he was capable of feeling such emotion to begin. in with. You're dying, aren't you? He asked. His tone given me a clear sign he was well aware of the answer.

I gave him a simple, slow and pained nod in response, every nerve ending in my neck and head on fire as I did so, feeling truly powerless and at the mercy of this being who has decided that I was no threat. I may be a way for you to live, he continued on, without injuring any closer, hesitant in his approach to me, as if trying to eliminate any fear of him that I might have. Well, I'll admit, he wasn't a sight to behold and definitely terrifying an appearance, but was a supermodel in comparison to the abomination he'd just gone toe to toe to with. I can't, I stuttered, the pain from the movement of my jaw, making me give up trying to talk any further than I already had.

Although he gave me the impression, he was skilled at reading my body language. A silence fell between the two of us. He could only keep looking at me intently as my skin became more and more discolored. This is it, I thought, no more than a few short moments left of being on this earth. Sixtine A then leaned down a bit. Even though he was still a skyscraper in comparison to my limited human frame, and not being able to stand didn't help much. They are not kind humans, the agency.

I ran beyond the team when I heard the creature roaring. I don't think you truly want to come back with us regardless. Well, what if... He paused then, dramatically. What if I left you here in your final moments? They'll likely kill you if they find you anyway. I can inform them that the cryptid has been dealt with, and we can return to the facility.

At least then, you won't be subject to the things I've seen them do to other humans. Your life would no longer be your own with them. They've been mostly kind to me, but they'd not share such attitudes with you. He tilted his head under the impression that I might respond, but I was far too miserable to do so, so instead I used every bit of energy I could muster to simply nod my head. I was slow and pathetic, but perfectly deliberate.

My neck was still stinging as I did it. Hey, freak, where are you at? A male voice shouted from the tree line further back, making 16A snap to attention. I could tell in his silent expression that he hated being called that, but yet he seemed more talented at keeping a level head than most humans. I was almost sure he was lying when he said that they'd been no sly kind to him. There wasn't any doubt in my mind they'd treated him like absolute garbage,

and he was only being docile about it for their sake. I must go back before they find you, he said, turning to drop down on all fours once more after a short ex-hand. There were no millipedes left to follow, they had all been destroyed by the arachnid. Come on, the voice caught out once more. We need to be sticking together. You don't just run off like that, you morrow.

Now, get back here. Sixty-A turned his head to give me one final glance. Here I was thinking he was just another mindless killing machine. And at the day I ever ran into a cryptid would be the day I died a horrible death. But no. They're not the monsters. Those things in the tanks were the victims. They were created to be nothing more than weapons to do this agency's bidding.

And even a lot of these agents, including 16A, were in the same boat. Nothing more than pawns for those at the top. I saw that now. Every non-human entity I'd encountered today was the result of humans dabbling in the realm of things they clearly didn't understand. Without that scientist or that guy in the suit playing God, I'd be seen. still alive and well. It was them who did this to me, and probably those dead people in the trees. While yes, that thing did need to be put down, it doesn't change the horrific reality of what goes on inside that organisation, and I'd barely scratch the surface.

But there I was laying against this tree, only able to think as my final moments approached. Have you ever heard the phrase? You always grew up the things you don't. You don't. You're always grew up the things you don't do rather than the things you do. Well, I always thought that was BS until now. My blinks are getting longer as my weak breath shortened. I actually start losing the desire to breathe at all and feel lighter, like a balloon. It wasn't the typical suffocation I'd anticipated. It was peaceful, fitting, like drifting off to sleep at this point.

Everything blurs now, contorting in front of my eyes as my lids begin. to fall I pass on to wherever it was next, whatever the universe had in store for me. Because whatever it was, I knew it was going to be better than this. And so once again, we reach the end of tonight's podcast. My thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories and to you for taking the time to listen. Now, I'd ask one small favor of you. Wherever you get your podcast wrong, please write a few nice words and leave a five-step.

review as it really helps the podcast. That's it for this week, but I'll be back again same time, same place, and I do so hope you'll join me once more. Until next time, sweet dreams and bye-bye.