Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S6 Ep340: Episode 340: Paranormal Horror Stories

Episode Date: May 21, 2026

Tonight’s nightmarish tale of terror is the first four episodes of ‘I'm a Paranormal Investigator for the U.S. Government. My agency is getting annoyed’, a wonderfully original story by Cryptid-Echo, kindly shared with me via the Dr. Creepen Sub-reddit and narrated here for you all with the author’s express permission: https://www.reddit.com/user/Cryptid-Echo/Episode 1: Rules Episode 2: Blood Trees Episode 3: The Sunless Sea Episode 4: Post Traumatic Doldrums 

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please contact Connix Ontario at 1866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge. BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming Ontario. Welcome to Dr. Creepin's Dungeon. Our normal events fascinators is because they sit to the edge of what we believe reality to be. Ghosts, unexplained sightings, and strange encounters force us to confront the possibility that the world is far less understood than we like to think. They awaken a childlike curiosity about death, the unknown and what might exist beyond ordinary human experience. And at the same time, paranormal stories are frightening because they suggest, rules for safety and logic can suddenly fail.

That something invisible, ancient, or impossible, could be watching from just beyond the limits of our understanding. As we shall see in tonight's collection of stories. Now, as ever before we begin, a word of caution. Tonight's tales may contain strong language, as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. Let's begin. I'm a paranormal investigator for the U.S. government. My agency is getting annoyed.

Part 1. The rules. Okay, let's get something perfectly clear real quick. Most of you are dumb, like very dumb. How many times do you see these rules stories and think, oh, hey, if he'd just follow the rules, he wouldn't have died? Well, that is us, specifically my agency. Every anomalous event has a reason,

and explanation, a method to follow. Some may be easy, others kill you just for showing up, giving you some silly rules to follow that will prolong the suffering before pulling you into some extra-dimensional realm to die a thousand times. So, background, I'm sure you want it. I can only speak for areas under the jurisdiction of the US as other countries handle this bullshit on their own terms.

I'm not the CIA, FBI, or any other three-letter agents. The CIA is mostly concerned with overseas espionage and mobbing around third world countries, while the FBI couldn't tell the difference between their ass and a hole in the ground. My agency doesn't have an acronym, mostly because our founder was pretty smart and decided that a specific name could be traced, and things found out that don't need to be found out. We're an invite-only organization with a few different branches. We recruit from any source we feel will be beneficial to what we do.

so it isn't just the normal fare of Tier 1 operators and SF kids. Well, why we do utilize them, we also make use of freelancers to take care of specific threats. As for me, I'm human, female. For the purposes of this document, you may refer to me as Echo, which is a throwaway name, just like this account is. I've been an investigator for around a decade, and we use sites like this to ascertain the validity of stories,

mostly for protection. You see, back in the olden days of the 1700s, our founding fathers started a great nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Obviously, this doesn't include the creatures we do with on the regular, but we'll call them cryptids, since that's an easy nerd name to focus everything into one group.

Cryptids can be just about anything, from classic monsters to buildings infested with hellish, rotting biomechanical monsters or apparitions that drive you mad. Normally I wouldn't bother to do this, but since the quarantine, things have changed. People aren't distracted by their daily lives as much as they used to be, and we can only stage political scandals and divisions so much before the majority of the population begins to grow numb to everything normal going on in their world. That and, honestly, I'm tired of seeing the same mistakes.

Take the jobs with rules, for example It starts off with some rubbed Just out of college with a worthless degree Who's now struggling to make any money Because art doesn't exactly pay the bills Unless you're the new Pablo Picasso Well, soon they get desperate And start applying to anything they can get their hands on

That remotely looks like it will secure the next meal One day, A job posting pops up Not on actual vetted job sites like indeed but something stupid like Craigslist or Facebook, or you magically run across a paper fly you never noticed before that happens to be sitting eye-level with you while you sip on a non-fat soy latte you just purchased with the remaining $5 in your checking account.

Security guard needed. Start tonight. $40 an hour, no experience needed. Well, if there aren't any red flags in that, a little quoted line right there, you need to get your head checked or lay off the soy lattes. No security firm pays 40 bones an hour for a rando off the street with no experience, and I'd be willing to bet my ridiculous government paycheck on it. This also goes for amusement parks, malls, universities, subway systems, and the works. See, I've investigated so many of these facilities over the last ten years

that it feels like the general population should have gotten a hold of things by now. If they had my agency, you could go public, and you could call on us on the phone like a normal person, and we come out and take care of it instead of us stumbling on this crap on Reddit after bodies have started piling up. No, you have to take the hard way. Fine. Here are a list of rules to follow for you not get caught up in crap like this. Now, this isn't all-inclusive either, so no one should be all up in my DMs going, Oh, but Echo, what about if we're in the middle of the wilderness in West Virginia and we're hearing things?

Well, first off, I hope you brought friends. That way, whatever's trying to hunt and kill you, hopefully we'll pick off your bros one by one while you try to find a way out. There's something you people need to realize real freaking quick. The forest in the United States isn't any less ancient than the forest you find in Europe or Asia. Things have been out there since before the Native Americans were throwing spears at it. It'll be there after we are gone. Anyways, onto the rules.

Rules for surviving jobs. If a job posting seems too good to be true, and it probably is. If you can't easily do a web search on the company, it's probably a shell. If it advertises high pay for low skill, it isn't worth it. You aren't equipped to fight whatever you're going to find. The people who hired you know you're stupid and they will not help you. If you find yourself in this situation, follow the rules to the letter. If you live and make it out, message me and never go back there.

Rules for surviving the wilderness. Don't go into the wilderness. If you go into the wilderness, take someone with you, preferably multiple people don't go more than two miles from a main road most roads used to be native footpaths who figured out the best way to travel through that area research the law most of it's grounded in some measure of truth don't go during hot times halloween solstice harvest so on if a tree starts bleeding leave the area. Once safe, mark the coordinates and message me.

Most state or national parks are there as a safeguard against a cryptid we can't dispose of. Follow the rules of the park. If it feels like a gate to hell, it probably is. Don't go through it. Well, I'll add to these later. And those are the basics. Your gut instinct is something that modern society. society has been trying to dull for a while. That animalistic urgency isn't something to be ignored.

If your body and mind are telling you something is whack, they get out of there. I'm really tired of going to a sight just to see the remains of humans sprawled everywhere after they pass ten blood totems, a marsh where animals drowned for eternity, demonic looking gates and signs that pretty much say, you're going to die a horrible death if you keep going, fam. common sense is your friend well now that my little tidbit has been said I have an investigation to get to

we always have a hidden camera with us so when I get back I'll transcribe it here yes my boss is fine with this he's tired of it too written transcription follows agent redacted echo and agent redacted

Shout. Arrival on site is 1630 hours. January 20th, redacted. South Dakota. Echo. Shout. Where did this come from? My partner queries.

Just go along with it, you goobah. Think of it as a training video for morons. Brain is cool with it. I spat back. Contrasting my short platinum hair and equally short stature, shout was an even six feet with well-combed red hair. He wasn't built like a brick shit house, as in our profession it pays to be able to run more than anything else. Hey, most times you can't out muscle cryptids, so you have to outthink and outsmart.

Brain! His voice rose in pitch as he sounded the word out. Brain was my codename for the boss, a fact which he had just now become privy to. You should be shout, honestly. You do that a lot. Well, ignoring how true his words were, as I tend to get overly excited in certain situations. I put the truck into gear and drove into the mostly empty parking lot of the museum. God, I hate museums.

People want to collect old shit and a surprise when it comes with sometimes deadly strings attached. We looked up at the two-story building in front of us. It was an old house, one of those Victorian types with the creepy atmosphere, and some local thought it would be a cool museum renovation. The architecture was pretty neat actually. Atop the entrance set a hand-painted sign that spoke the name of the museum, mostly displaying things like antebellum antiquities and strange objects from around the state. A job posting had been popping up on Facebook for a while.

It'll be filled, then, about a week later, it'd be up again. So far three security guards have been reported missing, or in an accident of some kind. So we caught wind and decided to investigate. The town was mildly populated, a couple of thousand people at most, and it was cold as balls outside. To better blend in with the locals, Sheld and I moved into a piece of shit apartment in town and bought a raspy old Dodge truck to showcase how poor we were. Thankfully they were happy to sign on two new security guards for the night shift, at a

ridiculous rate of 4350 an hour. Remember my rules from earlier? Classic. He poured into the parking spot and shut the truck off. From the back of the extended cab, Shelt pulled a small case up and into his lap, thumb the latches and flipped it open. A small laptop sat in the case. Attached via USB was the... Redacted, device.

An instrument for measuring levels of... Redacted. Well, the readout was going ballistic, indicating that cryptid shit was definitely happening. He shut the laptop and closed the case, just as we had a... a visitor. An old lady, somewhere between 95 and 110 years old, walked out to greet us, dirty grey and white hair flapping in the freezing wind. She may be topped five feet in height, and her face was beaten and weathered, with scars dotting her mortal flesh. You two were supposed to be here 30 minutes ago. Get inside! She spat, then turned to walk inside without waiting,

muttering something like, fucking kids have no respect. or some other boomer crap like that. She's a pleasant one, shout mused as he stepped out. I followed him and we went inside together. The interior was hot like ridiculously hot. That type of heat when you take a trip down south in the summer is 120% humidity and makes you feel sticky.

The entryway looked pretty normal. Across the threshold one could see a decent part of the museum just from there. Cabinets were arranged in a pattern that formed a route, where you start at one end and end up in a gift shop full of cheaply made overpriced crap. We bypassed the starting line and went straight to the gift shop, where the old bag was pouring coffee into cups that looked like they hadn't seen a sink or dishwasher ever. Hopefully you'll last longer than the others. Now that the wind wasn't covering it, her voice was painful to hear. A rasp deeper than Shouts' voice ever could be with the unmistakening.

sound of smoke damage mixed in, and she reeked with cigarettes and alcohol. What happened to the others? Shout asked, leaning on the glass case atop the old woman's desk. She promptly shoved his arm off of it. This place is filled with things. Things that do things to people, make them do things. Things that people don't normally do. Can you handle it?

What? My obvious shock, was noted by the woman. You don't believe me, your little tramp. Stay a night here. See how you do. If you live, I'll double your pay. The fuck did you just say to me, you old bitch?

My face grew hot. My temper flared and I started over. Shout grabbed me and helped me back while the old woman sat there, laughing one of those sandpaper or metal laughs only lifelong smokers can do. Oh, you got fire. Good. You all need it. Museum closes at 5pm.

Make sure you lock up, read the rulebook. I'm going home. Fine. Get the fuck out then, my spat, eager to be done with her. She laughed some more and grabbed her things. She set a binder on top of the desk without a label on it and patted it, staring right into shout's eyes. You could come with me, kiddo, or take a tip in my hut tub together.

The amount of sultry she tried to put into her voice was painful to hear. Oh, um, yeah, well, I can't. Got it, you know, get to the job and stuff. Right? The woman laughed again and left straight away. I broke out into fits of uncontrolled laughter while shout began dry heaving into the full trash can on the side of the desk. He was popular with the ladies, especially the older ones. I'm lucky for them he was as gay as can be, so no one had a chance.

All right, let's get to these rules. I hope this isn't complicated. I really don't want to deal with this crap tonight. Shout busied himself with looking over pictures on the desk. Hmm, check this out. I peeked over. A row of photos set against the back wall. They went from old to new, and each one of them,

them had multiple people in them. One thing stuck out. There was one person who is in all the pictures. Young, not terribly pretty, but enough to attract attention. A life stealer? He asked. Probably. Explains why the guards were missing and why she needs someone pretty quick. Okay, you should know the drill by now, dude. How much time do we have? Fifteen minutes give a take, he responded as I opened the manual, checking inside for a slip of paper. Ah, here we go. Usually jobs like this don't publish their own rules, because that would indicate knowledge of the deadly paranormal happenings.

Usually they jot them down on notebook paper and cram it somewhere obvious so they don't lose too many too soon. Rules for, redacted, museum. Failure to follow these rules may result in injury or death. Your shift starts exactly at 5pm. Be in the museum before then. If you drive up to the museum after this time, turn around and go home.

Do not be outside on the museum grounds after this time. 5pm to 5.30. Use this time to lock up. Every door, every window must be closed and lock securely. Do not go into the attic except during the times outlined in these rules. 5.30 to 531. The attic houses an old wedding dress. Once 5.30 hits, the door to the case will open and will remain open for one minute. Before it closes, you must walk up the stairs and knock on the door. The door to the attic will open for you. Walk inside, face the dress and curtsy. Say,

Good evening, ma'am. I'll take care of you tonight. Close the door for the dress. If you reach the attic and the door to the case is closed, you can try to run if you want. After this, walk around the museum from the start of the exhibits to the end. Read everything as if you were a tourist.

The exhibits like when they're paid attention. During your tour, You may encounter screams and crying. You may see things in your peripheral. Do not attempt to look for the source of the screams or at anything in your peripheral vision. The exhibits may change, displaying truly frightening scenes that may involve family members.

Do not enter the exhibits, unless you want to become part of it. Near the end of the tour, before you exit to the gift shop, you must turn and bow and say, thank you for the lovely time it doesn't matter what you see you must still thank the exhibits when you exit to the gift shop

you'll see a grotesque young man sitting at the desk buy something doesn't matter what it is and accept the receipt your purchase will be refunded to you in the morning do not look at the receipt after the tour you must complete a walk-through of the museum every hour You may hear knocking on the door or windows.

Do not open or look out of them. Do not answer the phone. Well, that's pretty mundane. I mused, looking over to shout. He checks his watch and looked back up. Time to say hey to the dress. Got the stuff? I padded a small bag that I passed off as a purse,

and we walked upstairs to the attic. I knocked on the door and waited for half a second when it opened, showing a lovely white wedding dress in an open case. It was very old, maybe turn of the 19th century, frillion, tiny. This was most likely the course of the power the lady had, used in tandem with some kind of old magic or curse to steal the life force of others and prolong her life. We followed the rule and made a curtsy, telling the dress we would take care of it tonight. Shout closed the case. Downstairs we began our tour of the museum like a tourist wood. The exhibits actually weren't too numerous,

but the rules hadn't been lying when it said they might show us some fucked-up shit. Bloodbaths, cannibalism, bloody debauchery, it ran the whole gamut. Shout was still relatively new to the whole thing, so I pulled an air sickness back from my purse and handed it to him right before he chucked his guts up. I've seen plenty like this, kind of jaded now, which is the sad part. We continue through the museum at a leisurely pace, stopping to look at each grotesque scene shown to us.

At the end, we turned and thanked the exhibits for a good time. The creatures that had been at our peripheral were suddenly in front of us, watching, growling with mouths in places they shouldn't be, making sounds that shouldn't be heard by mortals. shout was pale I went tense Ardrich abominations were the worst to me

and the museum was full of them I couldn't wait to be free of this place they were there waiting for us to mess up one infraction would be our demise we turned and exited the gift shop picked out two candies and paid for them individually

keeping the receipts the lights dimmed and the grotesque kid disappeared Hey Echo, what causes this stuff to appear here? Shout asked while I was busy rummaging through books to find the secret diaries these people inevitably can't. I was halfway inside of a deep bookshelf when he asked. Think of the world as a flat plane. Flat earth theory except interdimensional instead of real space.

Humans can't really perceive it too much since our telepathic ability is almost nil. But that's also kind of what protects us. Creatures from different planes feed on energy created for mental stimulation, like psychic food, and a powerful enough source is like blood in the water. Emotion serve as a conduit. That's why a lot of possessed objects were the possession of someone whose emotion was so strong it created a beacon for something. Demons are the most common, because they can possess smaller objects easier. Kind of like that dress.

They can feed and regulate themselves to do what they want to do. Eldridge creatures are in turn drawn by a demon who has a bigger presence on the psychic plane than any human ever could. I tossed more books off the shelf. So the things we saw in the museum weren't demons. I thought all of these were. Didn't you pay attention in? Redacted. Course?

Eldridge. Not really understandable by us. There are some exceptions. Eldridge creatures can only affect our world during times when the barrier is weaker, such as night time, or during certain psychic extra-planar phases. Phases? Like boss-fight phases? He arched a brow, taking the diaries I'd handed to him and placing them on the desk. Ah, no, you doof.

Kind of like the phases of the moon. Our world's psychic manifestation goes through phases as well. These correspond to certain times of the year, such as Halloween, midsummer, and so on. That's why you hear of most eldrish activity taking place more at certain times of the year. Demons don't have to worry as much about the barrier, but they still have limitations. Houses like this are dangerous because eventually so many beings will congregate that it'll weaken the barrier enough for them to get in. Oh, good thing we're here. I'd rather sit in a hot. up with the old bat and have to deal with that kind of infestation.

Me too, I replied. The phone began ringing, startling me and making me slam my head against the shelf. I shimmied free of the bookcase and rubbed my hands. Neither shout nor I attempted to answer the phone, Rule 10. I'm going to start reading these. It's time for a museum walk. You take the honors and I'll switch next time. Okay, see you in a few, Echo.

out. Be careful. Symptoms are classic, but treat everything like it's your first time. He nodded and walked off, leaving me to manually transcribe certain passages into my notebook. Taking pictures would be easier, but you don't want to run the risk of transferring the possession if you photocopy the whole book. Shat returned a while later, and we switched like this for most of the nights. All in all, it was relatively pain-free, not a bad one to introduce Shep. shout to a rule-based anomalous facility. Seven a.m. came quickly after, and the old bat seemed astonished that we were still alive.

No issues? She quirked a brow. No, none at all, I responded. See you back tonight. Shout answered. Oh, yes, ma'am, we will. Rules were simple. Museum wasn't too bad.

See you tonight. We walked out, got in the truck, and left. Well, we left, but parked around the corner to where we could still scope the place with binoculars. Leaving the truck after we saw the woman peer out the door and look around, we quietly made our way back up to the museum entrance and looked in. The woman was frantic, going through the diaries I'd left on the desk for her to find. She frantically made her way upstairs as fast as her stubby old legs would allow. She out made quick work of picking the lock, and we walked after her. From my jacket pocket I pulled free a six-hour nine-millimeter, already loaded and safety off.

We approached the attic door just as the woman opened the case and gently took the dress out of it, cradling it like a child. Oh, my sweet thing, I'm so glad they didn't hurt you. They know, they saw everything, but I don't know how, but... No, no, they'll be back, and then we'll... "'Take care of us?' I interrupted her. I raised my pistol as she turned around. She opened her mouth to speak, but—I put a bullet in her brain,

spraying grey matter, bone fragments, skin and hair over the back wall. She crumpled to the floor, and the shout began dousing the lighter fluid on the dress and the floor, then lit it all with a breeze-proof lighter. Matches could be blown out easily. As the dress caught on fire, unearthly screams filled the room. Sheld and I bolted, running down the stairs and shouldering our way out to the door and into the morning light outside.

He caught his breath as I stood, taking his lighter and lighting his cigarettes. A habit picked up years ago after my first job. You walked back to the truck, got in. Agent Redacted. Echo and Agent Redacted. Showns. Stage one complete. final sweep of sight with redacted device will commence after sight is being cleared by first respondents in century operations will resume if first responding services are better and adequate and other redacted are detected

end of transcription part two blood tree let me start this off by saying one thing i freaking hate blood-tree i fricin hate blood-tree i frican hate blood-tree trees. Look, there are a hundred thousand ways to die in this world. Over half of those are from cryptids. Half of that's pretty quick or relatively painless, and smaller still are the ones that make it hurt. And within this percentage, two ways of death that every one of you really needs to be aware of. One, mental break. This method isn't exclusive to Eldrish beings, but they love the shit. The idea of yanking your mind and soul out of your body and driving you mad while inflicting pain is probably their favorite dish. You sit there for what feels like an eternity, getting your soul flayed while they show you images and scenes that no human was built to see.

Two, physical break. These are what I like to call digesters, an entity human or not, who secures your body to do something and just puts you through it. peeling off your skin, bamboo under the fingernails, cutting off your eyelids, the works. These things typically have the ability to heal the damage they cause so they can inflict more pain without killing you. As for blood trees, they can do both. I don't know what asshole conjured these things up, but I hope their creation did some turnabout on them.

Blood trees are hard to pin down. Not that there aren't a lot of them. They're everywhere, relatively speaking. every forest in the US and Canada has them the young ones are more active constantly needing food and every once in a while you get some kind of cult that pops up around them

with assholes wearing robes chanting in a made-up language while they yeats and poor schmuck into the bowels of the tree they typically feast on a live body for a few weeks and then longer as they get older and learn how to make the meal last longer the older ones are the ones you really have to worry about One live body can sustain them for a few decades or so, which means you are typically being digested for the rest of your natural life. If they get more bodies, they store them for later.

The ugly tree from the Johnny Depp version of Sleepy Hollow, Blood Tree. Some can serve as gateways to a pain dimension or something, but those are actually really rare. So, blood trees possess the ability to not only digest you over time, and keep you. you alive while doing so, but many of them can mess with your mind while doing it. So you can see why I hate them. The following investigation showcases three things. One, I freaking hate blood trees. Two, I hate other agencies.

I suck at FBI. And three, I try not to go on any investigation alone. Being alone means you're more vulnerable and there's no help. So, on to the investigation. Agent Echo. Arrival on scene at 0645 hours. December, redacted. Colorado.

You all realize pretty quick that I hate a lot of things. Dense forests, cults, spring-form pans, the FBI. Three of these things came into play today. I found myself at the entrance to a state park whose name I won't share for obvious reasons. For this one I didn't have to blend in with the locals, so no shitty apartment or beat a crap vehicle to deal with. No, I went to Fort Carson and yanked one of their range control trucks, some with some with some ground clearance and self-recovery options.

I pulled the big vehicle into the gravel parking lot which was freshly layered with snow. I can't tell you enough how freaking beautiful this state is. Floak trees, quiet wilderness, elk running everywhere, and in many cases, not a lot of people. Anyways, the small visitor centre sat nestled in the foreground of a mountain range, an idyllic location for a lovely state park. It was a log cabin style, single story with large windows, dark stain and a green tin roof. A set of glass double doors served as the entrance, with a small set of stairs leading up to it

and a handicap ramp to the side. There were a few park ranger trucks sitting off to the side. The rest of the lot was empty, same for a couple of mid-sized, SUVs and a Subaru or two. After parking and shutting off the truck, I hopped out and checked for my gear. I was wearing a set of snow pants over my jeans and matching Parker with fur lining. Middons covered my thin under gloves and I wore a black beanie. Oh, it was balls cold out and I don't really like being cold, but dressed down enough

so I wouldn't get overheated while walking. My backpack held enough food and supplies for a few days of travel, with a small axe hanging off the size. That's long a 12 gauge over my shoulder instead of a 454 revolver with a six-inch barrel into the holster at my hip. Why such a big revolver? Well, a few reasons. First off, this is bear country. I don't give a damn about hibernation season. You don't go into bear country at any time without packing some iron. Second off, revolvers don't jam like a semi-auto will. Third, on 454, we'll put down a bear without much to be. drama. Go into a fight with a bear using a nine millimeter. I dare you. Bear attacks happen

pretty quick, so you aren't going to be playing John Wick with a 500-pound bear that can move faster than you. I was secure that I had all of my crap. I walked up the snowy steps and into the visitor centre. It was quiet, not unsettlingly quiet, just that no one was really having loud conversations. A tall brawny man with sandy-colored hair made his way up to me. A park ranger by the uniform. He opened his mouth to speak when I shoved a piece of paper in his face. He took a few moments to read it, then folded it and handed it back to me. Well, that takes care of the first round of questions.

I'm... Fake name, obviously. Ranger Sandover. Call me, Mike. Echo. Nice to meet you. Echo? The beginning of amusement lit up on his face.

That is a secret code name? I wasn't about to explain the intricacies of agency policy or the need for official cover names to a park ranger. Yes, Mike, it's the code name now. Fuck off. And instead, I looked up at him. He was probably a hair shorter than shout was, but more muscular. Yep, can we get to business, Mike? He chuckled. Sure thing. He turned and waved me along as he walked through the facility. You were the FBI or something? I bristled.

Now, you may not know this, but I freaking hate the FBI. No, they do their own thing. I don't mess with them. I barely hid my disgust. The warp through the facility was short. It took only a few seconds to reach the wooden door labelled Ranger office,

and for Mike to throw it open and reveal the contents inside. It wasn't anything special, a medium-sized wooden desk, basic-assed industry catalogue issue sitting in the middle a computer screen from 20 years ago sat on the side along with the nameplate of the supervisor of the area james t celery now it should be pretty clear by now that all these names are fake ranger's celery sat his portly ass in a swivel chair behind the desk he was huge not huge like a ufc heavyweight huge as in he could probably wolf down an elk by himself his fat fat fat fat face had sweat on it just from sitting and his hair had cleared out of the top of his head leaving a horseshoe of thin brown hair that traveled the circumference of his dome to his side stood another ranger that made up the three on duty right now christ she was adorable black hair bright blue eyes a hair taller than me and probably in better shape than mike that was about all she had going for her

name tag said bristol hey who's this new guy why you bring you in an armed civilian in here. Not a civilian. You remember the other day we got a call about an agent coming to take a look around? This is Agent Echo. Bristol looked to me like I'd just beaten her dog and killed her mom. Probably the same way I look at FBI agents. And why do we need an agent?

This is a state park. We don't need... This bitch was already getting on my nerve, so I cut her off. Are you the one in charge? If not, then shut the fuck up. This crap is above your pay grade. Oh, I could hear shout now. Do you always start fights wherever you go?

Hmm, sometimes. Can't help it, though. This long doing the work I do, I don't have the time or patience for uppity peonts. Bristol turned fully towards me and started forward. Immediately I pulled the revolver free and thumbed the hammer back, pointing it at her body. Don't fucking try it.

I could put a new asshole in every inch of your body and still get away with it. Well, the room was tense now. Mike's face was white. Obviously, the guy was an easy-going type, one who hadn't seen the more uncouth side of human nature. Celery, to his credit, remain calm, folding his hands together. All right, calm down, everyone. Bristol, you take a walk outside. Agent, please lower your weapon.

I understand your role here. but let's have a bit of tact. I nodded slowly and stepped to the side when Bristol passed, still glaring daggers at me and closed the door. I ran the hammer forward and slid the revolver back into the holster. Please sit down. I didn't. The search and rescue team is arriving soon.

You can head out with them when the snow lifts. He wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. I shook my head. I'm not searching rescue. There's something else I'm after, and it was a courtesy that we told you I'm coming. Sometimes they don't understand that. For a few reasons, my objective isn't exactly the safety of human beings. SAR handles that.

My objective is the destruction of the cryptid emergence I was assigned to. That and feelings can get you killed. It sucks, but that's the way it is. I just need someone who knows the area. Well, Mike is still new. S.A.R. won't be here for a few hours most likely. Double fuck. Meaning the only experience one I can send with you is Bristol.

Triple fuck. I sighed. SAR may not be willing to hightail it right now. I'm not sure why SAR would be delaying at the moment, but I didn't have the luxury of waiting. Fine, I said, after exhaling a calming breath. As a group, we walked out of the office. Celery pulled Bristol to the side while Mike and I hung back. Be careful.

I shouldn't be saying this, but Bristol has a temper, he said in a whisper. Well, then don't. Thanks for the concern, but I'll be fine. I replied evenly. Celery and Bristol taught for a few minutes, a few minutes that went by way too slow. Once they were done, Bristol disappeared in the same. the back for a few months, then returned dress for the weather, a lever-action rifle slung over

a shoulder. I nodded, one that she returned, and we walked out of the station, and around the back towards a looming line of flocked trees ahead that marked the true boundary to the park. We followed the snow-filled footsteps into the trees, and started along a path that would have been easier to see were it not for eight inches of snow covering the ground. Did you make that up? Must be some kind of organisation for you. to just use code names. Are you the CIA? At least she didn't say FBI.

No. CIA handles issues outside of the continental US mostly, espionage and things like that. I replied unevenly. Our early attention suppressed under a layer of professionalism. We walked for a while. The miles passed and the time went with it. It was midday by the time either of us attempted conversation again.

So, what are you? we're looking for? You said you aren't search and rescue, so what's the deal? She spoke after a few minutes, and we were walking side by side in the pathway, and I pulled up a GPS with a preloaded set of coordinates in it. Honestly, I won't be sure until I see it.

And hopefully it's nothing. I paused while Bristol walked forward. Alarm bells going off in my head. Something was coming. I sped up my walk until I closed in on the race. stranger, mouth opening to speak. You act like it's just going to jump out at you. Oh, Jesus, she had to say that.

From the thick underbrush, a bear barreled out, large, fast, and angry. It showed to me to the side, having locked in Bristol as its target. My shotgun fell to the side, and I went backwards onto my back. Bristol screamed out as the bear slammed her to the ground, massive pause raising and slamming downward to try and rip her limb from limb. If she hadn't got her rifle long ways between herself and the bear, she really would have been done for. As I came to my feet, the bear caught her left shorter in its mouth, grabbing and dragging her side to side, shaking her violently. I ran up with a 454 in hand. I got up close so I wouldn't risk hitting her and fires. Once, twice, the bear

went down in a heap, its head half gone. I took Bristol's rifle and looped the sling around the bear's neck and pulled back hard, giving the ranger a bit of room to shimmy out from hundreds. Blood was pulled underneath her shoulder, and she was breathing hard, eyes wet as the realization of what had just happened set in. I dropped to her side and pulled her coat open, expecting to find a tattered mess of flesh where a toss were been. Instead, I found claws, not marks, but actual claws.

The claws from the bear's paws had broken off the second they split the skin. Fuck, all right, you look surprisingly good. Bewildered was a good word for it. Her nervous chuckle split the air. A few drops of blood pulled from under a uniform shirt, but her shoulder was a little worse off. The teeth had remained intact for a bit longer and had cut a few nice gouges into the flesh.

I pulled a med kid out of her bag and set to work. "'How, how am I not—what the fuck?' She spoke between breaths. She looked up at my face and shot me a peculiar stare. "'You know what happened. "'Fucking tell me. "'That thing should have ripped my guts out. "'What's going on?'

"'I finished the bandage on her shoulder and side. "'Reaching out, I pulled the claws from her chest and lifted one up, "'squeezing it between my fingers. "'It snapped quickly and fell to pieces afterwards. It was already dead. Come again, she spoke incredulously. Already dead. I think I know why, but I really wish I didn't.

I leaned down and removed Bristol's knife from the sheath on her belt. Before she could protest, I lifted up the arm of the bear to expose its underbelly better and push the knife in. Pulling to the side, the skin split open with a sick pop and disgorged its inside. side all over the snow. Well, the entrails at least. Huge clots of blood remained attached to the different organs, and I reached a gloved hand down into its body, searching around for a moment. Okay, that is disgusting. What in God's name are you doing? I didn't speak for a moment, then pulled my hand free, holding up a horrid-looking object. It looked like a seed with many small roots coming off of it, covered in flesh, like a tumour growing.

The roots wriggled randomly, trying to find purchase in something. Oh, oh my God. Bristol went pale. Most people did when they first saw one of these things. Human minds can't fully process some things very well. Oh, blood tree. God damn it. I stuck the tip of the knife into the seed and pulled it free.

A copious amount of fresh blood spewed from the opening More than the palm-sized thing should have been able to hold I tossed it back on the bear It's been using the bear to travel Animals have an instinct that's hard to override Especially with a predatory animal A few more days in the sea could have controlled it Okay, I'm gonna need you to explain this in a bit more detail

Why isn't the bear hibernating? Why didn't it kill me how's it dead and what the fuck did you just pull out of it i sighed softly look at the bear's head where i shot it look where i cut it see any blood that didn't come from the seed no because it's already coagulated the bear was mostly dead it attacked you because the seed trying to control it made it lose its mind the seed i pulled out is from a blood tree they survive off of fresh bodies Well, there's a whole book I could tell you, but just realize that they're fucking bad news, and it seems that you have one in your little park, probably with a cult around it too. A cult? Like guys in black robes chanting shit.

Yep, exactly. Blood trees don't usually infect animals. Their instinct makes it hard to separate an animal from its natural area to spread, which means it was probably put there by someone. There go, you hurt. a blood tree cult. Here, help me with this. Finding it next to a bottle of tequila and a rag, I pulled a big bottle of lighter fluid from my bag and tossed Bristol the long torch. She fumbled with it, but caught it. I began dousing the bear carcass with the lighter fluid. I'm not sure how many seeds are in this thing, so best bed is to burn it. Once finished, I swapped the lighter fluid for the torch and set the bear a light. Bristol squeezing a bit more of the fluid,

on there for good measure. So, what now? She asked softly, nibbling her lip. Fire in the tree, burn it. Kill the cultists. She didn't respond. We took a few minutes to rest and eat, regain some energy.

I checked her bandages, but the wounds were surprisingly superficial. Bristol floated the idea of making camp, but I shook my head. Not the place we want to make camp. We're going to find it and live, we have to find it soon. It knows its seas just dies.

After securing all of our gear and finding her rifle and my shotgun, we continued our walk in the direction the bear had come from, with me reloading the 454 on the way. A half hour went by before she spoke again. Um, echo? Far contrasting her earlier bravado at her first meeting, her voice was meek, girlish, scared. Yeah?

What's going to happen to me? Damn, she had good instincts too. Oh, it depends. If the seeds had enough control to sprout their own, then you'll probably be infected. Your shoulder will ache more, get red-hot, and you'll see small roots in the wound. They'll slowly move through your body

until they invade your brain and kill you while retaining control of your body. If not, then a few weeks of recovery, you'll be fine. I don't sugarcoat things. It never pays to, really. Bad things happen, and they happen whether we like it or not. She let out a small sob. It was too early to tell if she'd been infected, though. What happens then? You burn me, too? After I put a bullet in your head, yeah. Mostly so you won't feel it. Remember, it's too early to tell, though. You might be all right. That wasn't a lie, at least.

We walked farther and deeper into the woods. The sun had set, leaving us in the darkness, but the moon provided enough light that it reflected off the snow and made walking easier. I didn't want to use a light. We'd already made enough noise walking to risk fully giving ourselves away visually. We stork silently up the ridge where light played random shadow games over the top and on the other side.

I slid down to my knees in the snow, and Bristol followed suits, where we crawled the rest of the way up. Looking out, there was a small clearing, a fire looming in front of a large, gnarled tree that bled profusely from many different openings. Four figures in hooded cloak stood there, evenly spaced, but far from the tree to stay out of the range of its flailing limbs and roots. The scene was grotesque, and I heard Bristol dry heave into her jacket to muffle the sound. Well, I've been around a few of them, and I still have to fight nausea from over. overwhelming me. The things were bad news on every level, a sickening entity that could have an

effect on someone just based on proximity. I watched for a few minutes just to get the nausea under control, and hopefully Bristol could do the same. I looked over to her laying just a few feet from me. Are you all right? Yeah, I think. Or make sure you are. This is going to happen fast. I peaked over the rise we lay upon, noticing we were about two meters above the clearing. Not much of an elevated position, but enough to give us an edge. I searched in my bag for the bottle of tequila. Shame to use it on a blood tree, but... But, well, we'd have to get another bottle later. I instrewed the cap and stuffed a rag into it, then put the cap back on. Hop down the hill, kill the cultists, burn the tree.

Wait, we can't just kill them. The Lord doesn't work like that, echo. Are you serious? Do you know what these people will do with them? Well, my words were stopped short by the sound of heavy footsteps. I look back in time to see an athletic man barreling towards us, murder in his eyes with a touch of fanaticism. I saw the faint traces of a ranger uniform

before a long leg pushed forward in a vicious kick to my side. The amount of power in the kick was absolutely ridiculous. My body lifted off the snow-covered ground, and with a scream of pain, I went over the side and down the two-meter drop onto the floor below. Trying to catch my breath, I pushed shakily to my knees, my shotgun laying to the side a few feet away. A quick lift of my head showed me that the three road figures were coming at an alarming pace. Pulling the revolver free, I lifted it in quick motion and fired.

One coltist dropped when a 454 blew his spine out of his back. My reaction was a little slow due to the fall, though. I managed to squeeze one more shot off that annihilated the left fire of a second, causing the woman screams to echo out into the wilderness. But the third had reached me. Dropping his full weight on top of me, he slapped the 454 out of my grasp and closed around my neck with two beefy hands, squeezing tight and cutting off my air supply instantly.

I thrashed, moving and squirming, trying to get away. Another shot rang out in the forest, followed by a thud off in the distance. I couldn't hear much, and my ears were clogged, vision was fading. He was too strong at this point, and had too much leverage. Well, I guess this was my time. The Thunder Club startled both of us. The man stiffened and fell to the side like he'd gotten hit by a sledgehammer, which he might as well have.

Bristol pulled herself forward, ragged breath shooting steam into the cold night air. Her rifle fell down as she kneeled next to me and pulled me up to a sitting position. Leaning on each other, we climbed to our feet, I grabbed the 454. She held the bottle of tequila up for me to see and didn't even need to say anything.

I pulled out the torch and lit the rag and Bristol reared back like she was throwing a grenade. Her aim was perfect. The Molotov sailed through the air and blew against the side of the tree. Fire spread all along the trunk, screeches from the tree a cacophony of all its still living victims, providing a macabre a chorus as its death cry. The tree would burn for quite a while, most likely. Come on, let's get out of here.

She didn't respond. Tucked under my shoulder, her breathing was ragged, rough. her body hot against mine. We tried to walk, but she held fast. Remember what you said earlier? About the seeds? She spoke softly, almost calm, like she'd accepted this. I laid her against the ridge and kneeled in front of her,

reaching out to push her Parker aside and lift the bandages. Small roots had sprouted from the wound, which was festering and an angry, read. Uh, yeah, this sucks. I stood there, cursing internally. She'd had the instinct to be a part of our agency. That and she was a fighter, a survivor, a decent fucking person actually. I pulled the revolver and aimed it at her. I really wish I didn't have to do this. I know. She stared up and me, scared, but knowing this was going to have to happen.

You aren't going to look away? I never do. But just... Don't tell me when you're going to... I bore the trigger. My face didn't change, but I just stood there, breathing. Tears made their way down my cheeks. I poured out a cigarette and lit it.

After the tree had fully burned, I had to do the same to Bristol. as it was the only way to ensure the destruction of the seeds. I climbed the rise again to see Mike Sandova's body lifeless, with a giant hole in his head. I burned his body too, and that of the cultists as well. Then began a long trip back to the ranger station. I called Brain on the way back, and by the time I was done with the report, I'd made it all the way.

The parking lot was empty. Celery was gone. I put out a mark on him. Well, a night later, then jumped in the truck. Time to find a bar to get wasted. End of transcription. Episode 3. The sunless sea.

By now you should know that there are some things in life that I can't stand. I use the word hate very liberally. In most cases, sir, it's justified. I can't begin to describe to you how much I do not like the sea. There isn't a word in any language for it. It isn't like the land, which gives you a fighting chance, or the incorporeal world that allows you to at least descend almost instantly into madness, or even hell itself, where you know for sure you're totally fucked. Even with all the demented creatures that haunt its depths,

the sea is perfectly impartial. It cares not for who or what you are. Whenever you step out into the territory of the sea, know this. The sea is perfectly impartial. The your mistress whether you be a seasoned captain or a curious mind trying a voyage for the first time agent echo 1643 esth Atlantic Ocean publicly there's only one operational permanent underwater research facility on the planet Aquarius reef base and obviously I'm not going there but privately there are a dozen or so of these facilities Most are owned by the United States.

As the world's superpower, we like to throw money we don't have at things we may not necessarily need. Some of our best findings about the ocean have come from these facilities and some of our worst nightmares as well. This wouldn't be much of a story if I were dealing with the former right.

Sometimes my job really sucks. Give me haunted houses, forests, demons, what have you. I'm a lamb-based, girl through and through. Oh, the PSV, the platform supply vessel I was on, bucked and heaved in the swells of the Atlantic. The sun was still out, but the sky was a dingy grey, completely overcast, making the normally bluish ocean water a dark, opaque colour. White caps broke against the side of the ship, sending sea spray over the railing and onto the deck, making everything slippery, even with the anti-skid paint coating it had on it.

I don't have my sea legs is an understatement. I suck at sea. I clung to the railing on the starboard side, leaning my head over and waiting for the next dry heave. I'd already chucked out my guts earlier in the trip and had already maxed out the allowable doses of dramony. A damn sure looked terrible. The crew's earlier laughter at my seasickness had faded to one of concern now, with a random crewman wandering up to give me a bottle of water to replenish my fluids. They probably had it on a duty cycle at this point. Hey, whose turn is it to give echo water? I managed to get my nausea under control for the time being

and flip myself around to lean against the railing, eyes lifting so I could survey the ship itself. The PSV Lennox looked like a civilian vessel for the most part. Close to 100 metres in length, the hole was a solid black with the accommodation, pretty much the living space of the ship, painted a contrasting white. The accommodation sat mostly on the foredeck of the ship, close to the front, making a small forecastle while maximising room on the foredeck and poop deck for supplies and room for research. Underneath the skin, the PSV was certainly not civilian.

What? You thought the US Navy only had big grey ships emblazing with their logo? Come on. Even the Navy has some secret squirrel stuff. The Lennox was better equipped than many destroyers as far as tech. went. That was the whole deal of this operation. And DARPA isn't the only defence research component of the United States, and I wasn't the only agency represented. The ship-wide intercom sounded out over the waves. All agency personnel reported to the briefing room. The message

repeated, and I peeled myself off the railing to stagger inside. The briefing room was a decent size, with a projector screen on the back wall that took up much of the surface. The projector itself, hanging from the ceiling, hummed softly as it awaited use. A large desk in the shape of a steel oval with the ends cut off sat central with multiple plush swivel chairs surrounding it. I wasn't the first winter, but nor was I the last. Like everyone else, my ID card sat in a holder attached to a lanyard around my neck, one that the boss had made up for me last minute since my agency didn't use a common access card like the rest of the DOD. I sat in the middle on the right side, taking up little space and flanked by members of other agencies.

The room was filled with a muted conversation, people who knew each other obviously. I stayed silent. All in all, I saw suits mostly. The two men in OCP uniform standing against the back wall, uniform sanitised. It's easy to pick out tier one guys in uniform. They hate wearing them for the most part. A man stood up at the front, wearing a US Navy uniform, but also without insignia or name. He was tall with short, cropped, sold and pepper hair and a weathered but still handsome face. Green eyes peaked out from a constantly darkened brow, the kind that didn't exactly care for bullshit.

I liked him already. Take your seats, ladies and gentlemen. His gravel-infused voice brought the room to a quiet standstill. My name is Captain Jensen. Let's get this started. The light dimmed, allowing the projector to show up against the screen. We'll be arriving on station in approximately one hour. Backstory is, much as I can tell you,

is that one of our subservice Atlantic Research Station has started sending strange messages through encrypted channels. Our replies to these messages have been disregarded, with no true sit-rep regarding the status of the experiments or the personnel within. So, following protocol, we're sending the QRF and with a few guests.

Sam, your squad will take ancient Twombly. He paused, lying for Twombly, a guy with shaggy dark hair and a meek demeanor, to raise his hand. Your resident IT guy, a move through airlock Alpha

once we docked. From there, sweep through the living quarters and up to the cabin offices. If everything looks fine, personnel accounted for and start ascertaining the source of the strange transmissions. Sam, one of the OCP-clad men, a short man with long brown hair and a thick beard, nodded slowly. Jensen continued.

Naim, your squad will take agent Echow. He looked at me as I raised my hands, cocking a brow as if to say, fucking really. And then continued. through airlock bravo move through the research lab to the subdoc while Sam and his guys check on the people

you'll be seeing if the lab and everything in it are kosher either way make contact with the head researcher Dr. Alyssa Lindt if there is anything wrong she can tell you what's happening he paused and scanned the room questions no

dismissed Naeem, Agent Echo, stand fast. The room stood in unison and filed out, leaving me alone in the room with the Jensen and Naim. I just remained seated. Naim took the chair opposite me, and we waited for Jensen to speak. Listen, hopefully this is something buggy with the damn software.

If, for some reason it isn't, be careful. Dr. Lynde has some seriously bad. bad shit down there she's messing with. Lady isn't exactly a hundred percent stable. If things have gone to shit, then your objective has changed. Sam's squad will be pulling out

given certain criteria, specifically evacuation of personnel, but the meat of the job is on you guys. If Lindt has lost her fucking minds, put a bullet in her head and destroy the station. Naim quirked a brow. His voice was deep, but like the rocky hits to it that Jensen's

He was maybe six feet in height And well built without being body-built a type His black skin devoid of wrinkles But brown eyes full of experience Any preferred Mathered? Jensen shook his head Echo here will tell you the best way to take out each experiment This has to be a step-by-step job

As we can't risk anything getting free Once each experiment is put down individually Then destroy the rest as you see fit The Virginia class sub will be on station to Torbito the place after your ex-fil. I stuck my hand up. Who the hell said I knew anything about what was going on down here? Jensen turned to me. Your boss?

I don't even know the specifics. But he said you would when you saw them. Fucking thanks, Brain. I sighed, but not it. All right. When are we leaving? Thirty minutes after arrival on station, Jensen answered. Let me get you some gear, Agent Echo, Naim said,

and we stood and walked out of the briefing room, leaving Jensen behind. Scientists, I hate scientists, especially government-related ones, ones that experiment on shit we should never have been dealing with in the first place and create or discover monstrosities that start world-ending level scenarios. People wonder why I'm a hateful bitch sometimes. Well, this ship makes me want to kick puppies. I followed Naim into the passageway and down a few ladders into the bows of the ship. What we entered into was a large room that may have had a different purpose on a civilian PSV,

but for the Lennox, it was an armoury, packed full of squad-level firepower. It was standard kit as far as squads went, M-4 carbines, grenades, sidearms, sidearms, one or two with shotguns. I myself grabbed something rather standard, a Mossburg 500 shotgun. I put shells into the bandolier sling, then again into the tubular magazine and secured an M17-9mm pistol.

I slid a body arm of Vesta over my head and waited once again. Well, there's something that you, well, some of you, may not realize. Teams aren't constantly battle-ready, at all times. It takes a bit to get geared up, especially for something as sensitive as an underwater research facility. Unlike a normal building, a facility on the seafloor is under tremendous pressure.

Any degradation of the structural integrity of the facility can destroy quite a bit. Most of them have automatic systems that can seal off a compromise section. Just hope you aren't in it if it happens. The PSV docked with the platform that served as the official cover for the facility below. Exploratory wells have been dug in the Atlantic, that much is public knowledge, but very few people have the means to explore what came of them.

As it sits, there are a couple of oil platforms in the Atlantic that most of the world doesn't know about simply because of how remote it is. This was one such platform, a derelict hulk that stood out against the grey sky, like some long-dead giant whose carcass remained frozen in time. The teams were offloaded in stages. It was slow going because of the waves rocking the ship,

but eventually we all made it on board the platform itself, and began the long climb up rusted and wet steps that groaned against the bolts fixing them to one of the gigantic legs that held the platform aloft. I turned and watched the PSV sail away from the platform, well ostensibly to remain away from the platform, an anchor to weather the storm and await our findings. Upon reaching the platform proper, Sam and Naim led us up even more fucking steps to a small shed in the shadow of the central tower.

The control room itself was a dingy affair situated at the heart of just about everything, but that wasn't exactly our destination. Well, it would have been a bit cliche to put the entrance to the lab in the control room, right behind a big, clunky computer that was shaped to look like a desk. instead what we got was a big clunky computer shaped like a desk but in a maintenance shit aren't a originality points for the u.s government there naeem worked some magic on the dead terminal and the entire thing shifted to the side showing a white brightly lit hallway beyond the terminal itself we had to duck to enter but once inside everything was fine my brow lowered confusion working its way across my face The architecture was beautifully strange, an octagonal hallway that stretched on and down to a landing. Now the crazy thing is, at the end the hallway had no seams, nothing that indicated where the ceiling and wall met, nor the wall and the roof.

It was as if the entire hall was one large section made of a material that deadened sound. Boots made a racket on hard floors, and we were making none of it. The landing was similar, like the hallway opened up into an octagonal room, maybe ten metres square. Light flowed into the room, but from where I couldn't tell. No fixtures, bulbs, or even the distinct humming of fluorescent lights. Wall sockets and switches were absent, as were vents of any kind. Against the white wall were red letters that said, "'Airlock A.'

I ran my hand along the letters curiously. Again, no seams. Sam, the squad A leader from earlier, procured a pamphlet from a pocket that sat over his deltoid. He read it, then placed his free hand over the A on the wall, and moved over in small, steady increments. After moving about six feet away from the door, a square flashed underneath his hand, a soft green light that pulsed between exact periods of bright and dim. After a few seconds a tall doorway seam appeared to his left. and without a sound the door slid to the side and disappeared.

Airlock A was open with me. See y'all on the flip. His heavy southern accent broke the silence, but seemed deadened somehow. His point man had moved forward, followed by the rest of them. Once they were all through, the door closed and the wall became seamless once again. That was fucking weird. one of the operators spoke up. Naim, what the hell is this place?

Another said. Naim shook his head. Something above my pay grade, boys and girls. El Obrado is down this hall. He motioned to the side. Another octagonal hallway descended deeper into the structure, with another landing, smaller than the current one. We move forward and down at a steady but somewhat leisurely walking pace.

The difference between the world was. this in a movie? Well, in a movie they'd be checking corners, bounding forward from cover to cover, weapons raised and ready to go. But here, there wasn't any cover, no real corners to check, save the small landing that turned to show another descending octagonal hallway. As a group, we remained evenly spaced in two staggered lines on each side of the hallway, weapons loaded but at the low ready. The usual banter accompanied the group, although in hushed tones there was talking and laughing a bit of mirth before our entry into the facility itself after what seemed like an endless number of descending hallways we reached the bottom landing the same shape as the last large one red letter spelled out airlock b on the wall on the far side naeem repeated the same motion that sam had pressing his hand in a specific unmarked spot to open the door we walked through and not really sure we were what to expect, but knowing

it should be a lab of some sort. Obvious, yeah, but what we got was not expected. The airlock door shut behind us, blending in again with the wall as it had on the other side. He was standing in another faceless room,

maybe ten by five metres. From nowhere, a voice chime through, robotic and cold. Greetings. Beginning decontamination process. steam hissed from newly opened vents in the walls my brow crinkled in response nose picking up the faint scent of something peculiar god damn it i spoke softly whilst what one of the men spoke up from the back just before he fell over one by one we dropped unable to fight the airborne chemical making its way through our system and soon unconsciousness took hold

and the world faded to black. I woke up in a shitty mood, well, more sour than my mood usually was. You know when you get forced awake in the middle of an REM cycle, and you feel groggy as fuck, that was me. I felt like ass, tired, knees weak, arms heavy. Wasn't quite at mom's spaghetti just yet, but I was close. My eyes opened without my permission,

moisture blowing my vision and forcing me to blink rapidly to clear it. With a groan I sat up and tried to take stock of my surroundings. The room I was in smelt like rotten eggs, shit had water damage. Unlike the pristine entryway, the usual fixtures of a room were present. On the mouldy ceiling hung fluorescent light fixtures, evenly spaced along the surface. Most of them were burnt out, but three of them had enough light to make the room mostly visible, and go very dim.

Against the back wall was a sink and toilet made of stainless steel, the kind you'd see in a psych ward. The toilet had no seat. The sink had just enough protrusion to turn the water on, with no sharp corners anywhere. A dilapidated metal desk sat on the left wall, with some mouldy files and binders atop it. Opposite this was a steel cabinet that was shut tight.

The rest of the room was filled with beds, all bolted to the floor and in varying states of disrepair. I felt a pinch in my right arm and looked over to see an old butterfly needle sticking out of my arm, connected to old tubing that had gelled questionable fluid within. I promptly pulled it free and rubbed the angry red injection site. In the room with me was Naim, three of his guys. Naim was sitting on the edge of his bed, rubbing his temple to take the drowsiness away. He was wearing his OCP uniform just like the others were, but something was different. I looked down at myself, noticing that my armour vest and weapons were gone, as were my cell phone badge and anything else.

Same went for Naim and his guise. Oh, figures the worst would happen. He groaned, forcing himself to his feet. I did the same, holding the metal head. headboard to steady myself. Two of the others in the squad began to stir as I walked over to what looked like a dingy screen

sitting a foot away from a large steel door. The screen had a few cracks on the inside, pretty much unusable for the most part. I pulled at the door and it came free with a loud, ear-splitting shriek. The place was silent, dead.

I pushed the door open as far as I could until it made a thunk against the wall to the side. Stood there in shock, staring down at the floor. The room we'd come from was one of several like it. The chamber we were staring at

was absolutely gargantuan, a circular mass with a single column in the middle and doors on every level. From our location to the opposite wall was an easy hundred metres, maybe more, and stretched vertically at least that high. Attached to the column

was a large arm which had a grasping mechanism, mechanism attached, not unlike the ones used to grab shipping containers. Along the floor, which was about six feet below us, were bodies, hundreds of them in varying states of decay, and level of completeness. Some look rather fresh, while others seemed to be one step away from a skeleton. Others were missing arms or legs, while even more still had legs and arms where they should not have been. I thought the urge to throw up, the smell of the smell of the was absolutely freaking rancid, and the sight that went along with it didn't help any. By all, what is going on here?

Naim appeared by my shoulder, his other two men standing behind him, disheveled, weary, and honestly, fucking terrified. Dr. Lint, should I know she would have fallen off the deep end, I said, almost in a daze. Wait, you know who's doing this? The squad mate from behind, Rafael, spoke out. Duga, his body, remained silent. Naim fixed me with a look. One of those, I'm not pissed yet,

but I'd be willing to slap you for info kind of looks. I let out a small breath. Lent used to be the director of my agency. Been there for years until one day she resigned to take another position. It was going to happen anyways, given that her direction for us was to try and navigate through the fabric of our reality and enter into another to find out where the fuck a lot of the cryptids were coming from. Fight them on their own turf. What's so bad about that? Rafael piped up.

God damn everything is bad about that. We only live and survive these encounters because Eldritch beings use most of their power to make themselves known in the reality we live in. Even then, they fuck with our minds. bodies and they destroy our souls and emotions and you think it's smart to hop out from behind the barrier and to try and fight them mano or mano lady i don't even know what an eldridge is mind explaining that one too he responded i let out an exasperated breath and began to climb down from the room itself using points along the wall as a footing things you don't want to see kid well i'm leaving this shit hole you do what you want you want

Naim started after me Hold on Echo We have a mission to finish here Secure the lab Neutralize the dark if necessary That still hasn't changed And I'm not about to just let you walk out of here Because you got scared

I dropped to the ground And he dropped right after me With Rafael and Dugar following along shortly after I stepped up to him And got right into his face Well given our height difference It was probably more comical than it looked As far as I'm concerned, this mission is fucked, Naim.

Remember the schematics of the lab? You think a room this fucking big can fit into an undersea lab? Lint is a fucking looney tune, which would be fine if she wasn't also a goddamn genius. If you make it out of here alive, sue me or something. I don't really care. The only good thing we have to go on is that it seems like she lost control of part of the facility. Then, as if on cue, a steady set of beeping filled the massive room and continued for a few seconds.

The facility shuddered, creaking under pressure while the lights flickered and dimmed dramatically. Then the room went black. The sound of four doors opening at once went through the room. We waited, hesitating, frozen in place by the sound of wet flesh slapping together, Like someone was dumping dead bodies into a landfill. Disgusting slurping sounds mixed with the crunch of bones took its place. Multiple mouths eating in unison. Now, listen, I don't get completely terrified that often.

There isn't much that does it, honestly. This, though. This was something else. The lights came up and in the room with us were four absolute nightmares. They looked like giant caterpillars, mottled tan and black skin stretching across fat, tube-like bodies, splitting and bleeding in many places as they lumbered a lot, hands sprouted from their bodies, all different colors and sizes, grasping and pulling the creatures along the floor. Human hair of different colors surrounded mouths that constantly bit, containing teeth that were cracked and bleeding under the pressure. as they passed close enough to a dead body the mouths would take a bite in the center was the main orifice a mouth three times as large as the others multiple rows of flat human-like teeth filled the abnormally wide opening like rings on a tree it reached another body and the hands grabbed it up pulling and tearing the corpse limb from limb the smaller mouths feasting on the appendages while the main bit down even bites on the torso blood and visor

spilling down it like a waterfall. The crunch that came from it each time it chewed on the torso will never leave my mind. Naim, to his credit, pushed his nausea down. He got my attention, pointing at it,

then at his own eyes, finishing with a negative hand gesture. Puzzled, it took him a time or two to get it through my thick skull. They had no eyes. A light bulb went off, and I knew,

nodded in understanding. I pointed to a door on the far side with a blinking green light that turned red at random. He nodded, and I started forward, picking my way around limbs and bodies so as not to trip. I even followed behind, with the dugar behind him and Rafael coming in last. No sound, no, sound. Not a peep, not a breath. I had to wind my way through the room to avoid the others. mode in my psyche engaged but pushed down just enough to not run for it I didn't know how

fast they were but oh by God I did want to run naeem seemed a full shade more pale as did Dugard and Raffal Dugar was specifically in bad shape he was more seasoned the Raffaile but some people just have natural bad constitutions Dugar was one of them he hurled vomit spewed out of his mouth and onto the floor i turned i am turned we stared at him in horror there was a creature near to us on the right and one on the left and they both reacted instantly with an ear-splitting shriek like several humans howling in pain the worms charged at him he tried to run he really did but they were so fast the hands propelled them along at a ridiculous speed.

The two creatures smashed together with a horrible amount of force, catching Dugar between them and crushing him like a grape. The force was so much that they spray covered me, Naim and Raffa. Standing there, blood soaked, mouth agape, I couldn't do anything. The two creatures separated with Dugar's body in between. Their hands pulled him apart, the mouths feasted, and the creatures began shaking. staring the torso like some sick, twisted lady in the tramp remake.

I turned and continued my slow walk while they ate him. After some time we made it to the base of the steps, then turned to look for Rafal. He gingerly made his way up after another minute, and we traversed the steps with excruciating slowness. We paused, looking back. The creatures had continued their clean-up of the dead bodies. I opened the door and it groaned to the side.

We darted in and shut it in time to hear the sound of a thousand hands against the other side. Now I allowed myself to throw up my guts. Naim and Rafael did the same, like our bodies were nice enough to let us get out of danger before spilling it all. I leaned against the wall and slid down to rest, tension leaving my body and rendering me pretty damn tired. Raffa walked a few feet down the hall to the T-junction, labed down the intersecting hallway, elevator to the living quarters down the other side. We heard a few buzzes, a couple of attempts at the door handle.

Locked, he said, frustrated. It's locked. We jumped up, startled. A smooth British-accented tenor came from a small speaker puck in the ceiling. I looked to naïne. Mouthing. The good Doc continued. Ah, Agent Echo, surprised to see you again.

What kind of bullshit are you up to, Doc? Oh, the usual. Dimensional travel, experimentation. You know, the whole mad scientist's shtick. A chuckle from her end. Those bodies, are part of your experimentation too? Naim Kordhous. Oh, all experiments have losses.

You realize we're going to put a bull in there, you fucking whack-job. Raphael called out, fists clenched. Oh, a threat from a tin soldier. Cute. Rafael, shut the fuck up, Naim spat. What is this, Alyssa? I asked evenly. Oh, I think I knew the answer.

Project Stonewall and Project Canales, my dear. If you remember it, that is. Oh, Jesus. Let's dispense with the busy talk kids. Canales is going rather swimmingly, except for one little hitch. After I sent over the living quarters, they came back rather upset. You seem to have a knack for understatement, Doc. What the fuck does that mean?

Living quarters. Wait, that was Sam's team. Hmm, was is a good way to put it. By now, they're probably being used as decoration. Chey-El is a rather frightening place. Chey-ol, I looked to him. Yes, what she calls the dimension beyond ours. Then why the fuck did you send them? Raphael screamed.

Well, research. I needed to see what would happen to a human mind that was unprotected by Stonewall. My initial expectations were that they would have gone mad. Obviously, I was correct. I'm not going to bother with any more questions, so here's the deal I am offering you. I installed a manual decompression feature in the living quarters. Normally it would be right across the hall,

but when that section of the lab returned, things got a little, uh, topsy-turvy. Two hallways down and two to the right, you'll find a security room. Inside is an idiot-proof panel that will allow me to do. decompress and destroy that section. Activate it, and I'll give you just enough time to get out.

Deal? Well, you don't have a choice, really. The intercom clicked off, and the door to the living quarters unlocked. The red light, turning green. Naim grunted. Oh, fuck it. I'd rather die of decompression than by one of those worm things.

He walked over to the door and poured the handle to the same. side. The door opened without a sound. An acrid stench of death hid us like a ton of bricks, bringing up a new wave of nausea. We pulled our shirts up over our noses and walked inside silently. The lights were on, but the halls were the same, dingy, rusted and run down. The contrasts between the entrance hallway and the stuff inside was so strange. We'd pass through the hall and paused before a window. The scientists were in. in were seated at lab tables, eating as if nothing had happened. Lab coats dirty, clothes ripped

and bloody, but they were just eating. We moved on quietly, two hallways down, turning right, then moving two more hallways down. The security office looked out of place, like someone had done a makeshift install job on the entire section. We stepped inside and closed the door, and immediately threw up once again. Sam and his team were there, were everywhere, in fact. Stripped, field-dressed and sectioned, they hung from makeshift hooks on the ceiling.

Rofalm finally lost his. He went over to the pile of rifles in the corner and began checking each one. Empty, empty, oh fucking empty, God damn it, empty. The rifle sat there without magazines or ammo. However, in the clothes and body armour were knives at least. Went over and procured what we could. Canteens of water, which we quickly chugged, and a knife apiece except for Raffal. Carrying two, his maddened eyes then turned to us. Decompressed that shit. I'll distract

them. He ran out the door without another word, though Naim yelled after him. I walked over to the panel and activated it, then poured a large, heavy switch downward to complete the process. Screaming and yelling could be heard outside, stabbing noises for struggles. Raffa was trying. The intercom beaped again. What? Did you think there be sirens and flashing lights? Get going. You have 60 seconds. Lynn checked off the intercom. We ran, sprinting, lungs burning. At the intersection was a mass of people, focused on a falling Raffal. The poor kid had bite marks all over him, scratches, blood running down his body. He was wild and fueled by a maddening need for vengeance. We turned left and bolted.

Hey! Help me! Please! Raffal screamed as they dragged him down. With tears in my eyes, I kept running. Naim gritted his teeth and we pushed through the door only to slam it shut as soon as we could. A few moments later a deep bellow shook the facility as the living quarters imploded. Lights dimmed and we were knocked off

of our feet. Rafael or the crazed scientists wouldn't be feeling anything anymore. The door to the lab opened. White, clean, sterile. Just the way Alyssa liked it. Gone were the dingy hallways, the creaking sounds, the bloody smears on the walls and the dead smells.

The hallway leading to Alyssa Lin's lab was the same as the one we'd first used when entering the facility. We walked to the end and the door opened for us, allowing us to step inside. Her lab was clean, neat and tidy. Machines of various sizes littered the walls of the large room. A device with a platform stood along the back wall, almost like a little. gateway the whir of machinery was almost smoothly go what the fuck naeem slapped his neck looked staggered to the side a bit and then fell to the ground unconscious on the other side of him was the lady of the hour she looked no older than the last time i'd seen her which was about six years ago the knife in my hand dropped when i

saw her pointing a pistol at me in her Her other hand was a needle that she'd used to knock Naeem out. The dock was a slight woman, maybe a hair taller than me. She was one of those scientist types that would not eat for days just so they wouldn't interrupt their own work. Certainly not in the greatest shape, but then again she looked pretty good for a mid-50s woman. Small, button nose sat between and below a sharp set of brown eyes that were so dark one couldn't be faulted for thinking they were black.

Black hair was pulled back into a tight professional bun. Part Indian and part British, her genius was only matched by her overall instability. It seems like my tin soldier didn't make it. Oh well, this one will do. Consider it a professional courtesy that it wasn't you I chose, Echo. Chose for what? Doc, what the fuck is happening? Project Stonewall, my dear.

Shale is not a place for the human mind or body, so I have to make it stronger. Unfortunately, sending the living quarters tripped the emergency protocol. Oh, well, it gave me a fresh subject. Now, step back, please, into that glass door there. Or what? You'll shoot me? Come on, Doc. Searing hot pain shot through my leg.

The doctor pulled the trigger and sent a nine-millimeter slug into my thigh. dropping me to the ground with a scream of complete pain. Well, I don't care how badass you think you are. Getting shot fucking sucks. Oh, what the fuck? Shut up, Echo. I told you that condescending attitude of yours would get you killed one day. Now, last chance, go.

Go. Pushing myself onto my butt, I scooted backwards, trailing blood on the floor until I entered the small circular glass tube that she told me to. Looking to the side, I saw buttons, an elevator. I shot her a confused look. She hit a button, and the glass slide closed. No dare sex smashing her for you today, Echo.

You lost your living quarters, and you're on the bottom of the ocean. What the fuck do you think you're going to do? Oh, you mean that submarine parked outside my door. I have that under control. What? I laughed. Please enlighten me, I said as I tore a piece of my shirt to stuff into the bullet hole. Oh, echo. She took a tablet from the wall and crouched down in front of the partition and pressed it up against the glass for me to see. When did you ever think I wasn't in control? I stared, horrified. The living quarters appeared on a screen in one corner, the body room in another. the room we'd woken up in.

Walls turned to white, moving, changing to mimic the inside of the lab, pristine and flawless. The disgusting caterpillar creatures looked at the screen and made their way back to their enclosures, and the scientists, they'd torn Raffaal apart, but then they stood calm,

still alive, not decompressed. She'd used us to store for time and gain a test subject in return, one not tainted by shield. The elevator I was in moved upwards, and all I could do was stare at the doctor until she went out of sight. The elevator gained speed, moving faster and faster, until it hit the open water. An orange flotation device bloomed from the opaque top,

slowly guiding me upwards. I looked down to the lab, and was fully intact. A light bloomed in the middle and grew blue, bigger and bigger until it swallowed the lab and half of the submarine that was ready to evac and fire on it. After the light receded, the lab was gone, along with half of the submarine. Oh, fuck. Episode 4. Post-traumatic doldrums. It's been a little while, hasn't it? Almost a year, in fact. Well, after Lisa's little stunt at the bottom of the ocean floor, the agency decided to put a lid on my publishable case files for the time being.

Well, that and being the only survivor of a catastrophic exit from this dimension, that tanked a submarine and an entire deep-sea research facility kind of puts a damper on things. To say I was put through the ring, I was an understatement. What? You thought they pat me on the back and say, you tried your best echo. The days afterwards sucked something fierce. I was put on administrative leave for the foreseeable future, as was agency policy when an agent had too much of an encounter at once. There was a bullshit rule considering the amount of things I've had to go through, but my boss was pretty insistence.

The bullet through the head kind of insistence. My agency doesn't really allow us to just up and retire or ghost out. There's a specific process we have to go through, before we can say we washed our hands of it, though the aftermath isn't exactly pretty. Once my interic... My debriefing was completed, my administrative leave began. I was given a small apartment in a decent-sized city of under a million people, just enough for me to drive myself insane with boarding.

As you hopefully have figured out by now, all names have been changed because, instead of saying, redacted all the time, I get to come out with funny monikas for the play. places I visit. All that and some of you smooth brains flooded my messages saying how much you didn't like hearing the word redacted. I poured my truck into the parking lot of the shady acres apartment complex. It was decent enough on the outside, like walls and balconies that middle-aged women with 12 kids dumped cigarette ashes off of standing in their pajamas.

I shut the truck off and bang my head against the hard steering wheel, groaning in frustration at the current situation. The boss had handpicked everything about my admin leave, and even this shit-hole apartment was his doing, knowing that this would aggravate me far more than any true administrative discipline would. Steps out of the truck and slammed the door, the aging vehicle closing with the sound of steel on steel. I light-older vehicles, simple, easy to work on, not as much stuff to break, and I could

offload it pretty easily since some teenager with a mullet would pay double what it was worth. I slung a black backpack onto my back and reached into the bed to pull out my suitcase. Selling it on the rollers, I pulled it along and went inside. The interior was obviously nothing like the ritz. A few dingy chairs set against the wall to my right, with questionable stains marking and discolouring them. Across from the chairs was a reception counter, complete with an actual receptionist behind it.

Farther black were two offices for the property manager and whoever else had an office. I rested an arm on the counter and looked down to the woman, most likely one of the aforementioned balcony cigarette smokers. Her hair was done up in a beehive straight out of the 60s,

with grey hair peppering the obvious blonde die-jog. A few kilograms of makeup covered her face, so much so that when she smiled into her phone the makeup stretched. My brows lifted slightly in surprise. The blackout on the desk said, Barbara. however they lowered once again to a normal position.

Hey, name's Anna. I made a sign for the apartment. It was set up a week ago, I said in a pleasant enough voice. You see, I could be nice if I wanted to. But my brows lowered slightly when she outright ignored me. Not like looked at me and said nothing, but acted like I wasn't even there. Hello?

Hello? I waved a hand, hoping it would grab her attention. and maybe she was deaf or something. She looked up at me, her eyebrow cocked in one of those. Really? Looks that instantly got her on my bad side. I can hear you just fine, kid.

And say something earlier next time. Anna, apartment, keys, need. She scowled and was about to say something when a male voice shouted from one of the back offices. Barb! And she winced slightly. The voice sounded like a dog being beaten with an ashtray, even making me look for the source. I couldn't see it, but whoever it was made that kind of sound from inside a closed office.

For a second, we just paused. Then old Barb started slapping things together, literally. Paper here, set a keys there, haphazardly tossed into a folder, placed on a binder and slammed under the counter. Good luck, Barb wheezed out of me. I took them without a word and wandered into the apartment building and down the hall. I looked at the apartment number and sighed. 33. Well, at least it wasn't 666 or something like that.

I walked through the hall and passed the smell of skunkweed, vomit, old pizza and cigarettes. Signs on the wall said no smoking, but obviously no one followed that here. The elevator that looked before me had graffiti on it, and the door didn't see him all the way closed. I pressed the yellow button and stepped in when the door opened. It closed soon after hitting the third floor and rattled its way up, stopping with a ding, a groan, and what I could swear were the stretching of a wire that was already to its limit. I stepped out into the hallway and made my way down the corridor to my room.

After unlocking the door and stepping in, I surveyed my surroundings. The place was surprisingly clean and didn't smell nearly as bad as the hallway. The apartment had a single bedroom with a living room and kitchen combo. The bathroom was right next to the bedroom door with a door of its own. A crucifix was now to the wall, and the boss had provided some basic furniture and a TV. I locked the door. I chucked my suitcase into the corner and fell back onto the bed. I probably should have put a black light on it, but honestly some things are better left unknown.

I fell asleep soon after. My awakening was unexpected. I looked over at the cheap alarm clock on the bedside, 1.13 a.m. I blinked, then immediately froze. Getting woken up at specific times of the night was a huge red flag, and it usually came with a very unsettling feeling. There it was. The feeling crept over me, almost suffocating with the thickness of it. Holding my breath, I turned my head slowly to look up at the ceiling, only to be greeted by the face of an absolute monster. just inches from mine. It was a bloody mass of flesh with few discernible features.

A large, wide mouth with flat teeth was definitely what drew the eye first. His head was easily twice the size of mine, with a jaw that looked like it could open a couple of feet wide. The hollows where its eyes probably should have been looked like they were blown out with a shotgun, then filled with a strange bloody white concoction. His breath smelled terrible. was unfortunate because it just kept breathing on me, sitting there and breathing, waiting, breathing. After I was sure I was about to pass out, I blinked and the creature was gone,

just gone, no sound or anything. I took the chance to sit up and look around the dark bedroom, searching for any sign of forced entry. Of course, there was none. Standing to my feet, I went into the bathroom and kicked on the light, immediately going to the sink and splashing, water on my face. After I was done, I paused and looked up slowly, the very bottom edge of the mirror. It was red. Blood fucking red. I let my head fall a bit and band it on the forcet in frustration. God damn it. Immediately turning away from the mirror, I walked out of the bathroom and turned off the light and shut the door. My adrenaline was flooding at the moment despite my lack of sleep. I decided some brain-killing TV action was in order.

I walked into the living area of the apartment, turning the crucifix right side up as I passed it, since that was invariably a requirement to my survival. I plopped onto the couch and poured a blanket up around me. Wait, I didn't have a freaking blanket. I boiled it up, opened the window to the apartment, and winged it out into the night air. Again I went and plopped onto the couch,

and I was able to get the tea. TV to come on to some brainless show that soon lulled me to sleep. I woke up again to the sun shining in the window. I got up and shut the curtains, and went over to set a pot of coffee. After a quick shower and getting dressed, I filled a cup with coffee, opened the binder to look inside of it. It was typical apartment shit. Nothing in and about creatures, bloody mirrors,

shit appearing that wasn't mine or dipping crucifixes. I threw the binder out of the window and looked. through the folder. Nothing. Grab the holster at nine millimeter from my bag and affixed it to the belt of my pants and then walked downstairs with coffee in hand. Barb was sitting there in her weird Lycra outfit and shitty hair. I walked up to the counter and slapped my hand loudly atop it, scaring the shit out of her and making her jump.

She looked up at me and the look of horror came over her face, as if she was surprised and terrified. Shot to see that I'm alive. Rules. Come on, give them up. Barb hesitated. Oh no. I gave him to you.

I walked around the counter, grabbed her hair and wrenched her head backwards, forcing her to look up at the ceiling. My free hand pulled the pistol free and I jammed it under her chin. Give me the fucking rules. I said through gritted teeth. I released her head and stepped back, waiting.

With trembling hands, she pulled out a piece of paper from behind her computer. It was printed, almost memo format, with a name and signature of the building manager on it. A snatched from her hand and left the apartment, showing the pistol into its holster and pulling my coat over it. I jumped in my truck and drove off. I came out of the grocery store a little while later and tossed some bags at a supplies in the bath. Food, drinks, that kind of crap. As I sat in the truck, I poured out the list of rules that Barb was nice enough to give me after a bit of persuasion, and it read thus.

Greetings and welcome to Shady Acres' apartments. We're glad you chose us for your living needs. I skipped straight to the rules. Rule one. Don't leave your apartment after midnight. Rule 2 Always lock your door no matter what Rule 3 The crucifix is there for your protection If at any point you see it turned upside down

Turn it up again Do not remove it Rule 4 If you see an item in your apartment That you know you didn't have Get rid of it Or the owner will come looking for it Please do not throw it out of the window

For the safety of passing pedestrians Oops Rule 5 Do not enter the bathroom after 1 a.m. And turn on the lights. If you accidentally do, don't look in the mirror Or you'll be inside of it.

Rule 6. This is rare. If you wake up at 1.13 a.m. And there's a creature standing over you. Hold your breath and do not look away. If you do, it will eat you slowly. Jesus Christ. Rule 7.

If you hear someone knocking on your door between midnight and 6 a.m., do not open it. Whatever is knocking is not human. Rule 8. The basement is off limits to all tenants for safety concerns. Rule 9. If you answer the door before midnight and there's a tall man who says he has a delivery for you, accept the delivery. Invite him in and answer his questions truthfully.

Rule 10 The TV may start showing disturbing scenes and figures It may even include your loved ones Do not look away from it no matter what Rule 11 If you suddenly lose power in your apartment Hide quickly Do not come out until the power comes back on

Rule 12 If the crucifix is anywhere except for on the wall Leave your apartment and run as fast as you can out of the apartment building. Do not use the elevator. This contract is binding until the end date specified. We hope you enjoy your stay. I knew it.

I freaking knew it. For the third time I let my head drop and I banged it against the steering wheel a couple of times. I let out a scream of sheer frustration. The boss knew what this place was. Well, the worst part is that I was going to have to spend a whole freaking year here. Fuck. Double.

I shifted into first and peeled out of the parking lot. Back at the apartment, I walked past Barb without so much as a glance in her direction. I went back to my apartment, making sure to log the door. I flipped the crucifix once again and set about making dinner. It was quick but filled me up and I thought about the apartment building for a minute. Had the whole thing been a cover to try and get me killed? I didn't think so. The boss should have known that I'd gone through this before,

so what was the deal? I turned the TV on for some background noise and continued my ponderate. I heard screams, breaking bones, tearing flesh, moans. It was God awful. I wondered what would happen if I ignored it. My answer came in the form of a large gash on my left forearm. I crowned out and turned to the TV,

aren't bleeding profusely over the little table I sat at. Keeping my eyes on the blood orgy, I reached around and poured at the tabletop until my fingers closed on the remote. I pressed a button or three before finally hitting power and let out of breath I didn't know I was holding when the screen went to black. I tapped the code into my phone and hit a speed dial number,

then put it on speaker while I rummished through a small first-aid kid I kept in my bag. The phone picked up while I was in my phone picked up while I was cleaning the cut on my arm. Hello. A mild-mannered voice came through the speaker. Boss, what the fuck is up with this apartment? It's an apartment that happens to have a cryptid infestation.

You've done this before. What's the big deal? Oh, I don't know. I was supposed to be on admin leave, so I figured I'd have a day or two of normalcy. Admin leave is on my time, echo. You've been suspended from the case. regarding Dr. Lint, not from everything else. Okay, so why not just take me off the case and shift me to another one instead of sent a meeting blind?

This is part of your evaluation, and the powers of B wants your status to be offline. Not sure why, but that's how it is. He paused as if wanting to say more. It didn't last long before he continued. You know the drill by now. take care of whatever's causing the infestation. If you can't, burn the place down. Click.

He hung up. I let my head dip to the table. He wasn't give me any more information, so I decided to at least start the investigation portion of my job now that I was unofficially off of admin leave. I walked around the building, starting from the top floor all the way down. We met a few people,

most of them eager to ignore me and go on, with their miserable lives. It was almost as if I radiated an aura of constant annoyance that made people want to stay away from me. Funnily enough, I was fine with this prospect. When you're in a field that many don't know of or understand, it's hard to relate to others. Soldiers, healthcare workers and the like probably know what I'm talking about,

relating to the general populace and all. I'd been going to the basement in accordance with the rules, as I really didn't want to get more to death or something like that. well, depending on what was in there. I chatted up Barb a little bit, trying to get an answer out of her as to what the deal was with everything going on. Well, obviously, she wasn't really a talker,

considering I had my gun pressed against her jaw earlier in the day, so I turned to leave. Gere, come here. That voice from earlier, the dog and ash tray one, came out of the back office. I looked at the door as it swung inward, and I sighed. I walked in and the door shut on its home The man stood to greet me

It was about my height, maybe 5-5 or so It was probably four times my weight He wore a wife beater that was stretched to its absolute limit Tucked into a pair of black pants Suspanders sat on his shoulders And hooked onto the waist of his pants And a tremendous gut poked out significantly farther than his chest I wasn't the draw to him though

his arms were absolutely gigantic his hands of similar proportions he stuck one out to shape my hand and I accepted watching his fingers dwarf mine after our shake was done with we both sat in unison names Tony I should probably call the cops what you did to barb

he had a mobster accent one of those thick New York ones and it fit him but honestly I Don't like cops of any kind. I prefer to take care of things myself. Know what I mean? So I'll make a deal with you.

Don't fuck with my staff again. And I won't break your fucking legs. Capish. With those arms, he looked like he could bend steel. Geez. Yeah, I nodded. Capish. I leaned back in my chair and cross my legs for a moment.

This guy was direct and I liked it. So I decided to reciprocate. I'll stop fucking with your staff when you tell me what the hell's going on here, Tony. Ah, them rules. Shit's been happening for as long as I can remember. Just started up one day. First, it was small, you know. TV started showing nasty stuff.

Lights would flicker. Then people started dying. So I spent a few nights in the rooms to figure stuff out. Wrote them rules and now things have been mostly sad. If that answers your question, get out of here. I stood and turned for the door. Hey, um, what's your name, kid? Anna.

I don't buy it, but whatever. See you're out, Anna. I left. The search of the exterior of the building revealed little to nothing besides weeds and cigarette butts. What a pain in the ass. I made my way back inside of the apartment complex and through the lobby but stopped at the top of the stairs that led down to the basement door. Tony was going inside and shut the door as soon as he did. I heard the click of a lock and watched for a few moments.

He wrote the rules, but he was going into the basement. I checked my watch and left Tony in his basement to head back up to my own room. The day I had gotten away from me and I needed to get back. Standing outside of my apartment was a woman, who I would learn was in her mid-30s. but looked to be in her 50s. She had upper back-length, dirty, blonde hair, and when I say dirty, I mean actually dirty, unbrushed and uncamped, like she'd stayed miles away from a bottle of conditioner.

Her eyes were sunken in, bags under them, as if she hadn't slept in months. Probably hadn't. A little girl stood behind her, the spitting image of her mom, clad in a light blue dress. But unlike her mom, she was perfectly clean. Mom was fumbling with some keys and I looked over.

Track marks ran up her arms. Scar tissue had formed on the backs of her hands. I let out a silent sigh and went over, deftly taking the keys away from hands that no longer had fire motor control. I slid the key into the lock and opened the door for her. She looked up at me in just, it stared, with hollow, dead eyes. That you! She voiced after a long, long pause.

her accent was French and thick I took the trail at the end of her sentence and just ran with it Anna I'm across the hall from you Tracy this is Marie she waved down to the little girl who curtsied towards me hello thank you for helping my mama I nodded she too had the same French accent and it was absolutely endearing

I looked down to her for a moment and nodded Take care of your mom, okay? She blinked. I always do. That broke my heart, what was left of it. But outwardly, I remained stoic. I looked at my watch, 9pm. If you need anything, I'm across from you.

Good night. Bonneui, she replied and went inside after her mother, closing the door and locking it. I shook my head, unlocked my door and entered my apartment, locking it back. I turned the TV on and had just enough time to step away from the door when there was a knock at it. I hung my head for a second,

and glanced at my watch and opened the door. A man stood outside, clad in an old delivery man uniform. Oh, I hesitate to call him a man since his face was decomposed, his flesh rotten, muscle exposed. His voice was demonic, otherworldly, and I sighed. Delivery. Come in. Take a seat, I answered.

He did so. For being decomposed, he didn't smell, thankfully. He sat down in one of the two chairs surrounding my little round dining table. I figured this was going to be a long night, so I brewed two cups of coffee from a curry and set one in front of it. He took it and held it in his hand. Redacted, redacted, redacted. This is your name.

name. This shocked me to the very core. One thing all of these stories get right, and even a lot of works of of fiction, is the power of a name. This is why I could count on one hand the amount of people who knew my first name, and fewer still who knew my full name. This cryptid had rattled it off like it had been plastered on a damn billboard. So without thinking I blurted out. Nope. I'll be honest. He croaked out. I was about to snap back when a searing hot pain went through my chest. I could grab my heart and gave it a nice firm squeeze. My actual heart, not what remained of my messed up personality.

I fell to the floor out of the chair, banging my head and bending my body into an arch. Cries of pain the only thing I could manage. Oh, fuck. All right. That's my name. I managed to get out. Suddenly the pain stopped.

I was left on the floor panting, trying to get over the pain. Eventually I did so and pushed myself upwards, using the table for support. That's rude, I spat, and climbed back into my chair, glaring daggers at him, but knowing it would do no good. He asked me a few questions, and I indeed answered truthfully, knowing the pain and possibly that death would come if I did not. This last question really sent me through a loop. Why do you hate humans so much? But try to save them from us? That's some...

An oddly specific question. I held up my hands when he started to shift. All right, all right. I don't hate humans. They just don't understand or get what really happens. To be honest, it's as much an escape for me to save them from you. Elaborate. God, of course.

Well, six years ago, our agency was bigger than we are. now. We had more of a presence than the government meetings and such, but we were infiltrated and partially destroyed. By who? He asked, still holding his cup of coffee, not even trying to drink it. Well, I hadn't expected

it to. I groaned softly. The FBI. Their agents have been recruited into our organization under the guise of cross-training agents to better deal with cryptids. We already have better training than they do, but they've always been

larger organization, so it made sense at the time to get more of them on board. Shitty thing is, the FBI has a real problem with territory, as in they believe everything that happens within the U.S. is in their jurisdiction. We made it plainly clear that they would never be able to deal fully with the things that we dealt with. After a while, a year or so, our director at the time and theirs got into a spat concerning a joint operation. Instead of letting us call the shots, they decided to kill everything, including us. I paused and took a sip in my coffee, bow rising in my throat as I thought back to those days.

I continued. The agents we were training turned on us. It became the largest interagency conflict in history. After the dust settles, they killed 18 of us, while we killed around the same number of them. This was all during an operation, mind you, and the cryptids involved had no problem taking advantage of the disarray and began feasting on the bodies, then making some of their own.

After the ceasefire, we agreed to stay out of each other's way. There's more to it, obviously, but that's the gist of it. He seemed satisfied with my answer. The rest of his questions were simple, but still deeply personal, and eventually he stood and left. The small package he delivered remained, and I set it on the counter next to my coffee pot. I turned the crucifix right side of it. took a shower and went to bed I woke up at one 13 a.m. again to the same creature.

Same thing happened and he eventually went away. The next morning I slept in not bothering to set an alarm and reported into the boss making sure to let him know what had happened. Honestly the next couple of days were a blur. I took the liberty of going out and doing a few things during the day only to return at night and make it inside to face the witching hours. One another heard shouting from inside Trace's apartment and made it near the door just in time to see Tony come out of it, with a man held under his arm. A filial de Putana. Think you can come in here and mess with my tenants, eh? He paused when he saw me, and a grin spread over his face.

Hey, Anna, how's the apartment treating you? You ain't dead yet, good things. He was in a much more chipper mood today, probably from the guy under his arm. and what I mean under his arm, I mean he was holding a skinny dude under it like a bag of potatoes. Not bad, besides the weird creatures and shit. What she got there? And climbed my head towards his captured miscreant. Some wise guy thinking he can sell drugs.

Tracy don't do that no more, you know. Gotta keep her on the up and up, poor thing. Especially since her little girl died a while back, you know. I paused. Wait, what? You mean Marie? A look of shock came over his face. You know her?

What she ain't telling me, little Anna? His visage began to look dangerous. I held up her hand. A couple of days ago I helped Tracy into her apartment. She had a little girl with her name Marie, but she was decidedly not dead. He mused over this explanation. Normally I'd call bullshit, but this place,

Marie was a cute little thing. Used to help her mama a lot after rehab. She'd just come around. Sweet talk that old suitcase bar for some candy or some stuff. I died about three years ago during a police chase after being kidnapped. I nodded to him. Sorry about that. I know what I saw, though, Tony.

She was real as day. He nodded. I'll be good to her If you see her again before midnight Tell her to visit old Tony Hey I nodded again We'll do

Thanks kiddo If you excuse me I'm gonna go break this guy's legs Want to come I laughed An actual genuine laugh I'm good Tony Have fun

Ah suit yourself Oh come on Bastara Gonna go have a sit down You and me He walked off like a kid who had just gotten some candy, and I stepped into my apartment. I must have had a bad luck street because I turned the TV on, and immediately it showed some nasty crap again. I turned it back off, flipped the crucifix once more, and took a shower.

As I stepped out and got dressed into something more bedtime-appropriate, I had a knock at my door, looked at my watch, 12.30 a.m. For a moment I didn't bother to care, but then something pulled at me, I walked over to the door and pressed my head against it. Who is it? Marie. I paused, searching for the right words. You aren't human, are you, Marie? Not anymore.

What happens if I opened this door? A few seconds went by, like she was hesitating. Then I will kill you. I couldn't help the chill that went down my spine. Of course, Marie. he was already dead. I knew Tony wasn't lying, but for some reason I had to ask.

Why would you kill me if I opened the door? Because she wants me to. I blinked. I mean, I never got this far with an apparition like this. Who? She waited again before answering. The lady who used to give me candy. Barb.

That bitch was the cause of it all. I had to be. and all the piece is fit. Not wanting me to live by not giving me the rules, hating me for getting her in trouble with Tony. My earlier actions involving a pistol in her head. God, I should have doused her with holy water earlier. I'm sorry, kiddo.

I'm not going to let you in. I understand, Anna. You may want to put some clothes on. You'll be leaving soon. Good night. For wanting to murder me, she sure was plight. However, that sentence really stuck out in my head. I'd be leaving soon.

What the fuck did that mean? Oring on the side of caution, I got dressed and packed up what I could, and laid back on my bed and fell asleep. I woke up a little later and looked at my clock. One thirteen a.m. Fuck. Looking upwards, I saw a now familiar face staring down at me, except now its mouth was wide open.

Something was different. It started to rise as if to get off me again when I caught a piece of metal out of the corner of my eye. The crucifix? It had moved. An oppressive darkness began to seep into my apartment from the ceiling, covering it and beginning to slide down the walls. The creature above me hadn't left. Oh, I rode out from under it just in time for its head and body had shot downward and attempted to bite my head and shoulders clean off.

I got a mouthful of mattress instead And the shriek at losing its meal Made me cover my ears The darkness Like oil began crawling down the walls And I barreled out of the apartment At a full sprint Down the hall I went

And remembering the rule I didn't wait for the elevator The darkness was seeping into the building itself And people began to run out of their apartments in terror Some were not fast enough And long arms tipped with long fingers fingers began grabbing them, pulling them into the ever-widening abyss. Some were bitten by mouths that shot out from the ceiling, while smaller monsters began climbing

into our world to tear the residents apart. The creature I'd personally escaped from was hot on my heels, tossing residents into the abyss as it came for me. I dodged, ducked, dipped, dived, and dodged my way again down the hall and into the staircase, three flights of stairs in a few bounds. Screaming could be heard above me, but I knew there was nothing I could do. I burst out into the lobby and was about to run for the door when something collided with my skull, and I fell to the ground in a daze. Someone was dragging me into the basement by my feet. I saw even let my head hit each step on the way down, and soon I could feel a wet spot

on the back of my head. My body felt limp, drained. I sat up against the wall and looked out to see a pair of legs in garish tight straight out of an 80s workout video. Barb! She stood over me with a shit-eating grin on her face.

Ah, looks like you've got a couple of bruises getting down here, kiddo. Oh, don't worry. Three of us are going to have some fun. Wait, what, three of us, I groaned out. Oh yeah, I can't wait to see what he's going to do to an uppity little bitch like you. As she said this, the same disturbing creature that had haunted me for days in the early hours of the morning clicked forward.

I've got a good look at it now. Two big arms ended in hands with long fingers, his torso about six feet tall. This torso sat on a strange, bulbous abdomen, like a spider, except it had four legs that ended in pointed tips. I knew were probably ridiculously good at stabbing things. How did you? She cut me off. Uh-uh-uh, uh, don't you worry about that, sweetie. She then turned to the creature.

Go on, honey. Eat up. A roar came, and I winced, waiting for the death that was soon to come. What? Barb yelled in obvious shot. Tony, good old. Tony, fat Tony with the tree trunk arms.

He blasted through the door like a cannon and speared the creature. No fear, no care. Just did a football tackle. They were shattered a cinder block. I felt bad because I knew Tony would be overpowered. But I couldn't move as well right now and I had to find a way to burn this place down. Almost like a cliche, I looked over and saw a backup generator with a gas can next to it. I began crawling over to it.

I made it to the gas can and took the lid off and pushed it over to spill the contents Barb's knee rammed into my back when she jumped on me causing my breath to immediately leave my body she grabbed my hair and forced my face down into the floor I don't know what she sees in you but I'm fucking done with it you didn't she stopped didn't what come on sweetie spill it up before I kill you. I turned over slowly. You didn't take my gun.

Her eyes widened as the pistol I held in my hand went off with a quick pull of the trigger, sending a nine millimeter straight into her brain. She went limp immediately and I rolled her off of me. I looked up to see how badly Tony was doing. Remember when I said earlier that you won't be out-muscling a cryptage? Well, that didn't apply in Tony's case.

To my complete shock, the man had not only subdued the creature, but was currently smashing it into the ground with a sledgehammer. Well, I laughed. Tony, match. What? He looked back to me, confused. Lighter, match, torch, fire, god damn it. He grinned and produced a lighter, jogged over to me. He lit the fuel, and for a second watched it go up instantly.

Then he tossed me over his shoulder and ran out of the basement. We sat outside watching the building, but The time said 6.20 a.m. Tony shared a cigarette with me, and we just existed for a little while. So, yeah, you probably know I'm not just a random person by now, right? He nodded, taking a drag over his cigarette. Yeah, kind of figured from the beginning when you took care of Barb like that. You're pretty handy yourself.

Want to come work for us? I said as I handed a card over to him with my information on it. He chuckled. Don't want none of that. Well, I'll keep this in case I need you. He passed over his own card and I pocketed it. He stood up and stretched. I'll see you around, Echon.

Need a place to stay, give me a call. I'll have my mother cook you the best meal you ever did have. He didn't wait for me to respond. He just left. When he did, I felt a presence next to me. I looked over to see Marie. It was after six, so I assume I was safe. Hey, kid, you're free now.

What are you going to do? Free, she asked, puzzled. Yeah, the lady that gave you candy, Barb, she's gone now. She shook her head. She wasn't the lady who gave me candy. I'm not the first one. I shut up for my supine position. and groaned as my body reacted negatively.

Wait, what? She produced a small package, the same one the delivery manner given me. She asked me to give this to you, and she handed it over. I took it and looked down at it. Who? Well, the time I looked back up, Marie was gone.

I opened the box and looked at what was inside. A skeleton key and a note. I opened a note and dropped everything upon reading it. I am always in control, echo. So five tales of terror from deep space for this evening. Now, if you enjoyed tonight's podcast, please do me one little favor. Leave a five-star review and say a few nice words about it,

wherever it is that you get your podcast from. It would be very much appreciated. That is it for one week, but of course I'll be back again next Thursday. with episode 23. Until then, very, very sweet dream. So, bye-bye.