Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S6 Ep375: Episode 375: Secret Government Conspiracies

Episode Date: October 15, 2026

Tonight’s opening tale of terror is ‘I do a job for the government none of you know about’, a wonderful story by Harbinger 51, kindly shared with me via reddit and narrated here for you all with the author’s express permission:https://www.reddit.com/user/Harbinger_51/Our next phenomenal story is ‘The Blackwater Isolation Experiment’, an original work by Margot Holloway; shared directly with me via my sub-reddit and read here with the author’s express permission:https://www.reddit.com/user/EquipmentTricky7729/Our final tale this evening is ‘The Stalker Program’ by Cyverbunny, kindly shared with me via the Creepypasta Wiki and read here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license.https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/User:Cyverbunny

Welcome to Dr. Creepin's Dungeon. Government conspiracies make for terrifying stories because they pray on our fear that the very institution's designed to protect us might be hiding something sinister. The idea that powerful people could manipulate the truth, conduct secret experiments or conceal horrifying discoveries our sense of security and trust. What makes these stories especially unsettling is the imbalance of power. Ordinary people may have no way of knowing what's happening. let alone stopping it. Perhaps the most frightening possibility is that the truth could be hidden in plain sight,

buried beneath layers of secrecy, misinformation, and official denials, as we shall see in tonight's collection of stories. 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. And let's begin.

I do a jaw for the government none of you know about. You should. By Harbinger 51. It was a beautiful day in the fall. Though being in the middle of nowhere in Ohio isn't exactly my ideal setting for an assignment, and could have been worse.

Opening my windows, listening to music and getting a good whiff of country air is a nice contrast to being cooped up in cities like I'm used to. Side of brown stalks of corn populating the miles of fields along the road was welcome as was the cool and clean smell of the air. It's a good thing these jobs don't involve much interaction with people, but unfortunately some level of interaction is inevitable.

On my way to this one, I got a speeding ticket from a cop at some little local department. Though I was, in fact, speeding, I got the feeling that he also didn't like much having a fed in his neck of the woods. The local police aren't a fan of ours, so I've come to learn. They tend to get suspicious of us, thinking we're up to some top secret mission behind their backs. I guess they would be right. I kept driving down the gravel road till the navigation let me know my destination was coming up on the right. Turning down the radio as I approached.

A glance toward the empty fields and the woods that met them beyond. I then turned into the long dirt driveway leading to our civilians' house and garage. I rolled up and parked with my trunk facing the porch. Stepping out, I got another whiff of the fresh country air And looked at the area of operations that lay before me I was surprised at the amount of land and space that I had at my disposal And space is good for these jobs Additionally, I was informed that there weren't any neighbours close enough to worry about

Couldn't have asked for a better setting After stretching and letting out a light sigh I decided it was time to get to work I pulled the keychain out of my pocket and unlocked the front front door. It seemed like a nice enough place. Certainly nothing worth complaining about, given the conditions of houses I've faced in my previous assignments. I went back outside to my massive government-issued vehicle and opened the trunk. I put the first couple of duffel bags worth of equipment out and brought them inside. The kitchen was as good a place as any to set up.

After making five or six trips of dragging heavy backses and boxes of my junk into the house, went back outside to open the garage. Thank God we were able to catch this case early and the civilians were able to make it out in time. It also meant that I got room in the garage to park this thing. All that remained in the truck was the large metallic box, but I wasn't going to need that until later. I shut the trunk and pulled my vehicle into the garage,

closing it on my way out. I stepped back into the house where I changed from my suit and my gear, wearing this suit all day annoys me but I suppose the higher-ups want us to look like good, friendly feds to the public. The public has no idea of what kind of monsters we are. I unpacked box after box of equipment and weapons. I loaded up my Glock 17 with its extended 30-round magazine just as I did with my standard 556 rifle.

I check the laser sights on both. All good. Next was my favourite, the 3-38, with the best scope you could ever ask for. It sure is nice having a virtually infinite budget. Perks of working for the US federal government, I suppose. The final firearm I brought was my personal

357 magnum revolver that I kept holstered on my chest. I figure it's never a bad idea to have one more gun, just in case. Maybe I should have brought more on this one. If things got too close, I always had my hunting knife. I'd sharpened it that morning before heading out.

The next few hours consisted of me going out into the woods near the house in various places and setting up dozens of my little cameras equipped with motion sensors. They were there to give me an idea of the location of anything they got brave enough to get close to the fields that surround of the house. I'd be able to know about anything that was coming to me. I didn't take too much caution in setting them up. Things never get interesting until nightfall. I returned to the house where I turned on my laptop and assured that all the cameras, were connected and working.

I could see every single one of them from there, but would know if anything so much has moved. I then got situated on a chair by the kitchen table, or I opened the window and set up my 338 rifle to watch the fields with. Suppose it would have been worth mentioning why I'm out here, setting up fancy equipment in the woods and holding up an arsenal of guns while I'm alone in a farmhouse that isn't mine. Let's back it up.

Right. March 1st, 2017. 3.33 a.m., Iowa. Dispatch gets a call from a local farmer. It claims to be looking at a figure standing still at the edge of a tree line on his property. The description given by the farmer was that of a man of average stature and built, clothed in a loose black or grey shirt and trousers, a large brimmed hat. The farmer tells dispatch that he'd have woken abruptly roughly an hour earlier,

unspecified as to why. He spotted the figure outside his kitchen. window soon after. The figure had been standing near the edge of a row of trees. It was facing the house and hadn't moved a muscle since the farmer noticed him. The farmer quickly retrieved his rifle and walked out onto his lawn, proceeding to brandish his firearm and tell the trespasser that this property was his and to leave immediately.

The farmer, seeing that the man remained unthreatened by his warning and display of a firearm, retreated back into his home and retrieved his phone and called 911 as he continued to watch the figure from his porch. During this call, the farmer's voice was noticeably nervous and frightened. The desperate tone and quivering speech continued to worsen as he went on explaining the situation to dispatch. Dispatch instructed the farmer to remain where he stood not to approach the trespasser. Dispash reassured the farmer that the police were on their way.

A few quiet and uneventful minutes passed. Then, without warning, the farmer led out a horrified scream through the phone. The call was disconnected seconds later. The police began their 40-minute drive to the residence. Halfway to their arrival, multiple new calls were coming to dispatch from the farmer's neighbors. They reported seeing a large stack of smoke coming from the farmer's home, and the closest reported seeing the house on fire. By the time, police arrived at the house had burned to the ground.

The fire department arrived shortly after, but oddly enough, the fire had completely subsided. What remained was the charred crumbs of what was once a house. The firefighters that arrived on the site were bewildered by how quickly the fire must have burned the house down. There was no explanation they could fathom. We pleased search the nearby fields and woods for the farmer and alleged trespasser to no avail. However, their search was quickly called back upon the findings of the firefighters in the house. The man's charred bones were found beneath the rubble, but not as they should have been. and it became clear after further investigation

that the man's limbs were ripped from his body before it was incinerated at an impossible speed four three-o-eight bullet casings were found where the porch of the house used to be the rifle was found just outside of the house unscathed despite its proximity to such a violent fire forensics confirmed that the rifle had fired these casings but the bullets themselves were never found

well this was the first but far from the last October 28th 2017 11.07 p.m. Montana Dispatch gets a call from a rancher who spotted a woman in an old-fashioned black and white dress and wearing a linen cap.

The rancher claimed the woman was standing amongst his cattle and not moving. The rancher expressed no panic or concern for his safety over the phone but rather a concern for the woman in the field. The rancher also noted that his cattle kept their distance around the woman. An ambulance arrived at 1129. Paramedics found no trace of the alleged woman. They walked to the entrance of the rancher's house

and discovered his door to be unlocked and open. After calling for the rancher and getting no response, they stepped inside to be greeted by the corpse of the rancher, hanging from a noose in his stairwell. The man had no history of mental illness and none of his relatives or acquaintances had any reason to believe he was suicidal. Additionally, an autopsy report concluded that both arms were broken in multiple places,

as well as every finger, as if they'd been crumpled together by a great force. He could not have tied the noose himself. November 29, 2018, to 06 a.m. Wisconsin. Dispatch gets a call from another farmer. He'd spotted a woman in an old black and white dress and linen cap. The woman had been standing in the long driveway from the road to his house, laid by the lamp that covered it. She stood motionless in the cold, windy and heavily snowing weather.

The farmer and his wife were later found under a collapsed wall of their crumpled house, with stones placed on top. They've been placed in a seemingly orderly fashion, till there was enough weight to crush their bones. This happens to be the first incident we have on record with photo evidence. A trail cam owned by the farmer and his wife, a few acres away from the house, caught a picture the night of the incident. It got a picture of the woman exactly as the farmer had described.

Black and white dress, white linen cap. It looked as though she'd stepped through time from hundreds of years before and placed like a mannequin in front of the camera. May 30th, 2019, Minnesota. September 3rd, 2019, Nebraska. January 4th, 2020, South Dakota. I could go on, but the point is that these incidents have been happening more and more frequently, and they aren't stopping. We do know what they are, or at least what they're supposed to represent to us.

Every single one of these people lived in North America during the witch trials. We don't believe they were the ones who were executed. We believe they were the ones who made the accusations, the ones who got their neighbours killed, the ones who carried out the executions, and now, they're back to kill again. Luckily, my department picked up on these patterns early on and designated a team to deal with them. There are a few hundred of us.

I'm in the dark about what everyone does exactly. I haven't met many, but I do know that some find potential incidents, some investigate, some deal with a cover-up and handling the publicity, and then, of course, are the ones you send in to eradicate the problem. That's where I come in. I'm here to hunt them down, to put them back in their graves so it would seem. Sometimes I get here before they've claimed a victim, sometimes after. But their reign of terror comes to an end with me.

They've never gotten away from me, and I've never failed an assignment. I didn't plan on this night being any different. A beep sounded from my laptop screen as an outline from one of the cameras lit up, indicating that the motion sensor detected movement. It had been quiet since I set it up. There wasn't even the slightest sign of wildlife. No dears, no squirrels, nothing. I leaned forward and intently examined the camera that had been triggered.

There was nothing to see. Another sensor triggered, and again the camera showed nothing. My eyes darted from camera to camera looking for motion. Another camera triggered, though all that I caught sight of was a shaking tree branch. and there was no wind today. Another. Ah, this time I saw it. A dog-looking figure darted across the camera in only a few frames, but I knew it was no dog.

I turned my attention from the cameras to the field in front of me, where the movement had come from. I got behind my rifle and looked down the scope to the tree line in the distance. My heart began to pound in my chest at an intense tempo. I could feel the adrenaline kicking in while I scanned the edge of the field from movement. All that greeted me was the orange glint of the sun setting on the tree line and the tiny shadows of the little stumps of corn stalks in the otherwise empty fields. It was silent. Not even a wind accompanied me this evening, though I can't complain.

It makes it better for shooting. For a few minutes I continued to run my scope along the tree line, occasionally getting a peek with my own eyes. It was during one of these peaks when I noticed a colour out of place, in between a couple of trees on the other side of the field. Some sort of black and white speck was there not a second before. I lowered my head down, back behind the scope, and centred it. As I steadied the scope, a man-like figure standing at the edge of the field came into focus. It wore black, tattered rags of clothing that hung loosely on its rigid frame.

He stood still, stiff as a board. Its eyes were fixed on something ahead of it. It took me a moment to realize it was focused on me. It didn't move a muscle, not even blinking as it stared. It came to my senses and prepared to do my job. I flipped the safety off of my rifle and centered my crosshairs on its chest. I began to breathe deeply, my finger on the trigger, ready to pull, but I didn't take the shot. not yet. I saw it start to move. Even with the distance between us, my scope made the picture of

this figure of this figure clear as day. The movement came from only one part of its body, its mouth. At first its crusty lips detached from one another, and the mouth began to open. Steadily it opened more, more and more all the while the rest of its body and head remained fixed. His jaw sank to what should have been The more it could But it didn't stop It fell further Dipping down below its chest

Its skin like a stretch rubber band Waiting to snap Though it didn't It just kept stretching Still stiff as a board The man-like thing remained With its eyes locked on me While its mouth sat open

Impossibly wide It stood still with its hanging jaw For a moment A moment I shouldn't have given it Now I knew I had my target, began to apply pressure to the trigger before I was stopped, shaken by a force. A scream like a choir of souls in despair being dragged off to hell, with the power of a thousand horns sound in the start of a medieval battle, rung throughout the fields. Its volume caused flocks of birds in the nearby trees to fly away in a panic.

Its base shuddered through my chest and left me too hypnotized to pull the trigger. I'll never get used to hearing one of those screams. Right, here we go, I muttered to myself. The only thought I could conjure from my brain at that moment, closing its mouth, it leapt forward and reached for the ground in front of it with its hands fixed like claws. As soon as they met the ground, the feet followed and planted themselves quickly so that it could boost itself forward once again.

It had begun its terrible. charge. All the while, its face remained fixed on me, rotting teeth exposed and clenched in rage. The speed at which it rushed across the empty field would make a deer running for its life look lazy in comparison. But I was the prey here, but my heart began to race at the sight of this abomination barreling toward me. This anomaly of hatred and hunger bound to flesh, I remained calm. I began to steady my breathing. taking control of each breath in and out. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, exhale.

And squeeze. The crack of the shot rang out through the dimming sky in the field before me. My response to its enraged scream, I remained fixed on the target, observing the spatter of blood as it shot from its back. began to scream again, this time rapidly and desperate in tone. I quickly move the bolt and chambered the next round, accompanied by the soft ring of the brass bouncing on the floorboards under my chair. Although I'd managed to land a clean shot of the chest, it didn't do much.

It kept running, keeping on at its same speed, though now its changed direction was running adjacent to my position in the house. He was trying to flank me. I wanted to find a way around my line of sight. Well, I couldn't let it. Again, I took control of my breathing. Slowly I drifted my rifle on the bipod until the creature came back into view. Its limbs pounded at the ground with speed and power as it propelled itself across the field.

I'll never get used to seeing one run, either. Starting behind it, I continued to move the scope, just fast enough to begin gaining on him, just fast enough to let the crosshairs catch up. Inhale, exhale. The crosshairs slowly began to overtake it. Inhale, exhale. And squeeze. The chamber the next round quickly.

This shot brought him to the ground, but it didn't keep him there. After a short tumble, it rose and began to run again, this time back towards the woods it had come from. inhale exhale squeeze the third shot grazed his back frustrated i chambered another round and took aim but it was far too late before i could even begin to line up my fourth shot it had taken one final leap from the field back into the tree line it had come from i let out a sigh and hung my head in disappointment i knew what i had to do next but i sure as hell didn't want to the last four lickers of sunlight shone through the open window and lit my 338 rifle as I reloaded the magazine. I sat and stared blankly at the screen in front of me, hoping a camera would pick up some sort of movement that could clue me into wherever it had run off to. Knowing my luck, I shouldn't have expected it to. After coming to turns with reality, I stood up and grabbed my 5.56, slinging it

around my body and letting it hang in front of me. Aimed it down, looking through its sight and testing its laser again before checking the chamber. Good to go. Next I adjusted the night vision set to my head before picking up my 3.38 and heading out the door. As I stepped outside, let out another sigh, this one of stress. Hunting these things at night on their own turf is never fun. Nor is as easy as finish them quickly from a distance, but what choice did I have? I just wanted to get it over with. I flipped down my goggles and switched them on, illuminating the dark field in green and white. I began my long walk across it. It took me longer than expected. The speed of that monstrosity caused me to underestimate the size of the field. Each step I took was slow and quiet. I didn't want the

crunch of my feet meeting the dirt and remnants of cornstalks to disturb my hearing. If that thing made a noise, I needed to hear it. If only I could have quieted my incestimate. and heavy nervous breathing too. I wasn't even halfway to the tree line when I reached the first pool of blood, where I'd shot it for the second time, and it decided to retreat. bits of flesh were scattered about the ground,

but I didn't care to stop and look. Instead, I focused on the blood I could see that led back into the woods. Any experienced hunter has had to track a deer or two, and it can be very frustrating. Trail isn't always so clear, and you never know how far it is. has gotten. But in my case, I knew this thing was still alive, and it was angry. I continued my walk,

splitting my attention between the blood trail on the ground and the tree line in front of me, scanning for movement and listening. If I was lucky enough, it would have gotten bold and tried to take me down in the field. Unfortunately, I'm not so lucky. Suddenly, I followed the trail until it met the woods. I stopped walking and calmed myself. I didn't want to go past the road. I didn't want to go past those damn trees, but there was no avoiding it. I had a job to do. I extended the bipod of my 3.38 and lowered it to the ground before raising the stock of my other rifle to my shoulder. Took a deep breath and resumed my walk, now even slower and more cautious. At least now my heavy breathing would be drowned out by the sound of snapping twigs beneath my feet. Immediately

upon entering the woods, I spotted the next sight of blood. It came from a tree branch, its leaves covered in the dripping crimson liquid. I walked up to observe, only to notice more blood on the branch above that one, and the next. I noticed the pattern and followed each branch up, one by one, each with its leaves covered in blood. Suddenly a mass moved on top of the tree

next to the one I was looking up at. I swung my rifle up, pointing above me at the top of the trees. The mass turned, and interview came two, glowing eyes, like white lights in my night vision. It opened its mouth again to let out another deafening scream, but I raised my rifle and took aim. Its scream was cut short by a bang from my barrel and the thud of the rounds meeting flesh.

I was only able to squeeze half a dozen rounds off before it leapt away to the tops of the neighbouring trees. It kept shooting as it jumped from one tree to another, though within seconds it was out of my line of sight. I charged through the woods after it, watched it leap in possible distances, shaking trees so hard I thought some might snap. All the while I kept trying and failing, to line up a clean shot. The ones I did manage to squeeze off were either misses or ineffective.

Even at the full-on sprint that I managed to sustain for a good few minutes, I was barely able to keep up. I almost abandoned the chase entirely before I saw an opportunity. And there was a clearing ahead, a trail. The distance across was far too wide for it to jump. It took a sharp right once it realized this and began jumping from tree to tree along the trail. I rushed into the opening before kneeling to line up a shot. I followed it with my sights, tracking the timing of each leap,

letting it land and leap once more before it settled on a new tree. I shut off two more rounds as it braced to leap again. They were perfectly placed, and its body tumbled in the air and crashed violently to. the ground. Having lined up my sight, I squeezed the trigger once more to hear the absence of a gunshot, replaced merely by the click of the firing pin in my empty chamber. I screamed curses at myself, so I quickly exchanged magazines. By the time I looked up, the body was already gone. I got to my feet and continued down the trail as a jog-like pace with my rifle at the ready. I was beginning to get more frustrated than anything. I put dozens of these things.

in the ground before. I didn't understand why I was having such a hard time with this one. As I approached a curve in the trail, I slowed my pace and brought the stock of my rifle back to my shoulder. I approached the curve from the outside of the trail, trying to get a clear view of what was beyond. When my head violently snapped to the left, my vision went suddenly dark. It took me a few moments to realize that I wasn't dead, nor was I unconscious. Something hit my night vision goggles and knocked them clear off in my head. breaking the mountain they sat on. Eyes were only beginning to adapt to the dark

when another object came flying towards my head, narrowly missing as it whistled forcefully past my ear. It was a rock, around the size of a football. I couldn't help but glance behind me in astonishment at the object that had nearly decapitated me before turning my attention back to what had thrown it. Sure enough, there it was, standing behind the trees at the corner of the path.

I let my anger take control and began to fire rapidly at its torso. My disregard for accuracy hardly mattered at this range. Regrettably, it meant I was now closer than I would have liked, and it began to charge. I landed shot after shot, blood spurred it from its back and painted the trees and leaves that it passed as it barreled toward me. Again, my magazine went empty. Instead of bothering to reload a new one, I quickly drew my glock and continued. continued my rapid fire on the beast. It broke into the clearing and fell to all fours

before it leapt forward and ran as it had done in the field. It closed the distance between us in seconds. A hand clenched around my throat and I was lifted off of the ground like a feather. It kept running past the edge of the clearing and carrying me into the woods. I continued to pepper it at point-blank range with my pistol. Between shots I could hear its hysterical laughter

directed at my futile efforts. His face smiled with a look of sadistic insanity. I continued shooting until my magazine went dry and I was stuck with an empty gun. With nothing else that I could do, I began to beat its face with the empty pistol. Now this seemed to piss it off. It violently threw me through the air.

I felt my body snapped dozens of branches before I met the ground and rolled uncontrollably. Recovering quickly, I grasped the rifle, still slung around me and replaced the empty magazine with a new one. It was mere feet away from me when I started to fire. I got a few shots off before it grabbed my arm. This time I whipped the barrel of my rifle up, clubbing it hard across the face. Then I had a short, irritated scream.

I thrust my barrel at the top of its head, knocking it back as it emitted another angry grunt. Reached up with its left arm and tried to grab the barrel before half of its fingers, were blown off by my next shot. He recalled its arm in pain before swinging it back at me. Upon contact, my rifle flew out of my hands and the sling came undone from my body as it was thrown far into the woods behind me.

I attempted to retreat before he grabbed me with his right hand and what remained of his left around my neck. Again I was picked up and it carried me, this time only a short distance to a tree. My back cracked as I was slammed into the bark, looked up at me and smiled again. We killed our sinners. We brought justice to our land. We brought justice for God.

I ignored its foul speech, lifting an arm and hooking it across the face with a firm punch. It had no effect. You are all sinners, and you will die for your sins as they did. Again I struggled and pommeled its face with everything I could muster, but it still did nothing. Now go and burn in the lake of fire, it shouted, before laughing with a dozen sadistic voices all coming from its mouth. It opened its mouth and its jaw was once again stretched to what should have been an impossible level. It lowered me until I was level with it. Moved its open mouth toward my head, shaking with rage. his teeth now inches from my face

its breath foul with my left arm I drew my knife slashing it across the chest before plunging it into its neck I hooked a punch with my right arm that finally caused it to stumble wound up its own punch

and let it loose oh I narrowly escaped ducking out of the way before its fist met the tree and went right through splitting it in half before the wood tumbled to the ground I took this opportunity

to draw my 357. He recovered from its punch and faced me, pulling the knife from his neck and letting blood spurt and gush. It stared me down as it slowly approached, ready to deliver its finishing blow. His head was shaking now, harder than ever in anger. Its mouth hung open to half its capacity, where it showed its rows of rotting human teeth,

and raised my revolver and attempted to steady my sights, but it was too shaky. I quickly collected myself. Inhale, exhale. The front sight became level with the rear. And, squeeze. The recoil caused the gun to rise enough for me to get a look at the damage. I clipped its mouth in the corner of its jaw.

It hung open with one side detached completely. It wailed in pain as it gargled its blood and crumbled to the ground. I aimed again, cocking the hammer. squeeze With the second round I detached its jaw completely Let's see how you bite me now, fucker I painfully muttered with anger

It dropped my knife And was now laying flat on his back Breathing heavily I approached cocking the revolver again as I did It reached out with its mangled hand But I kicked it away before placing my barrel to its skull Squeeze

And then Silence After dragging the body back to the field, I spent the next few hours retrieving my lost and damaged equipment, as well as tediously finding every one of my cameras. I then retrieved my vehicle and drove it to the edge of the field. It was just one more thing to do. I opened my trunk and poured out the metallic box. I didn't understand why they made these things so goddamn heavy. I opened it and placed the corpse inside before securing the extremely heavy duty lock.

Next was the hole. I wasn't easy digging after I'd been roughed up and tossed around by an undead religious maniac with superhuman strength, but at least this was the last thing I had to do. I finished digging the hole, placed the metal casket inside and covered it up. From there I collected my equipment, packed it up and took off. Supposedly there's a clean-up crew that comes in after we're done with these missions and destroys any bizarre evidence. I suspect they take the body as well.

Where do they take it? What do they do with it? I have no clue, but I've been strictly reminded not to ask questions on the matter, and to just stick to doing my job. Still, I always find myself wondering. What I have even more questions about is why these things exist in the first place? What the hell is going on? Why them? Why now? Has this been going on for longer than I know? Am I being lied to?

What happens next in the future if this keeps going on? It's only going to get worse. We've only been popping up more and more frequently. When does it end? Does it end? I have more questions than I do answers, but what I can tell you is that this problem isn't going away anytime soon. It's only going to get worse.

We're going to be more of them, not less. And the death toll will only continue to rise. People are going to find out sooner or later. Might as well be now. Maybe we will stop. Maybe this will all come to an end one day, or maybe we're the ones who are all going to meet our end. Either way, I'll be there to see it. The Blackwater Isolation Experiment by Margo Holloway.

Day one. The year was 1988. The Cold War had reached its twilight, but whispers of paranoia still drifted through the halls of power in Britain. Deep in the Scottish Highlands, hidden from prying eyes, lay the remnants of a decommission. military base, once a strategic stronghold during World War II, but now a forgotten ruin buried beneath the earth. Long sinks abandoned by soldiers, the base was cold, damp, and crumbling with the duress of time, its tunnel stretching like veins through the mountain's heart. To most, it was nothing more than a relic. But to a select few within the Ministry of Defense, it was the perfect location for something no one was meant to see. The landscape surrounding the

base was as desolate as the base itself, wild, unwelcoming, and utterly forsaken. Rugged hills stretched from miles, covered in dark, wind-swept heather that seemed to absorb the dim light of the grey sky. The air was sharp and damp, carrying the scent of peat and rain, and the wind howed through the Highland valleys with a mournful bone-chilling whale. The sky, perpetually overcast, cast an eerie pallor overhaul over the sea, cast an eerie pallor over the the land, making it seem as though the sun had abandoned this place long ago. Even the locals, those hardy souls who lived in the scattered villages at the edges of the highlands, spoke of the area with hushed voices.

They called it a cursed place, where the earth itself seemed to hold grudges. Nothing grew there except the stubborn patches of grass and moss that clung to the jagged rocks. No bird circled overhead, and the sound of animals was conspicuously absent, so even nature had decided this part of the world was unfit for life. Beneath the surface, the base's labyrinth in tunnels delved deep into the rock, a sprawling network of long, forgotten passageways and reinforced chambers. The walls were slick with moisture, the once sterile concrete now cracked and eroded,

dripping with condensation from the cold earth above. Water pooled in the lower levels, stagnant and foul-smelling, and the distant echoes of the team's footsteps reverberated unnoticed, unnervingly through the corridors. The deeper they went, the more oppressive the atmosphere became, heavy, so the weight of the mountain itself was pressing down on them. The lights, few and flickering, barely pierced the gloom, casting shadows that twisted into strange shapes along the walls.

Every turn, every corner felt like stepping into the moor of some ancient, forgotten creature that had been lying dormant beneath the mountain. The air grew thinner and colder. the further you went, as if you were descending not into the earth, but into the very bowels of something far older and more malevolent. It was a place that seemed to reject human presence, as though the land and the base alike remembered what had transpired their decades before, and they did not want to be disturbed again.

Here in the shadow of looming peaks, the government's most secretive and morally dubious project was reborn. Project Blackwater. Dr. Eleanor Carr stood at the entrance of the underground facility, her sharp eyes scanning the horizon before she descended into the darkened tunnels. An imposing woman in her mid-forties, her graying hair was tied tightly behind her head, while her face was a mask of determination and quiet ruthlessness.

Renowned across the world for her groundbreaking work in neuroscience, Dr. Carr nonetheless had a reputation for pushing the bounds, of ethics in the pursuit of knowledge. Her colleagues whispered that her brilliance was only matched by her willingness to venture into the darkest corners of the human mind. For her, Project Blackwater was the culmination of years of personal research into sensory deprivation, the fragility of individual consciousness, and the breaking point of the human psyche. The goal was simple, yet profoundly unsettling. Isolate the mind to its absolute limits and observe the consequences. She'd long believe that by stripping a person of their senses and subjecting

them to total darkness and silence, the brain would reveal its deepest, most primal responses. In short, what frightened others fascinated her. Her team, a small group of carefully hand-picked scientists and military personnel, were waiting for her in the main control room, located deep within the heart of the base. The facility had been repurposed with the late its technology, cameras, medical monitors, and a rudimentary computerized automation system that would track the physiological and psychological states of the test subjects. The chambers where the experiment would take place were sealed off from the rest of the base, deep underground, hidden behind thick concrete walls that were built to withstand bombing raids.

Dr. Carr gathered a team for a final briefing. The low hum of machinery filled the air as she addressed them with cold efficiency. The goal of Project Blackwater, she began, her voice echoing in the confined space, is to explore how extreme isolation affects the human mind. We will deprive our subjects of all external stimuli. No light, no sound, no human contact. Of course, they will have access to basic life support, water and mineral food, but beyond that, nothing.

Her eyes swept over the faces of her team. scientists, military psychologists, and a few hardened soldiers tasked with keeping the base secure. None of them met her gaze for long. They knew what they were about to embark on, was ethically questionable, to say the least, but none dared to question the orders from the ministry. After all, each of them had been specifically chosen for their ability to follow protocol, no matter how unsettling the work. There were to be five test subjects, all of whom were military prisoners,

men convicted of crimes that had landed them in the very worst parts of the prison system. They were offered a deal, participate in the experiment, and if they survived, they would be granted their freedom. To be fair, the prisoners themselves had little choice. Life in a dark, isolated cell underground, couldn't have seemed that different from their existence behind bars. They had no idea what awaited them. One by one, the prisoners were escorted into their designated chambers,

The rooms were small, merely large enough to stand or lie down. The walls were soundproof, padded, and devoid of any windows. A single camera in the corner of each chamber would record everything, every move, every twitch, every moment of madness that might come. The only illumination was a dim red light, which would be extinguished as soon as the experiment began. After that, nothing. only darkness.

Dr. Carr watched from the control room as the steel doors to the isolation chambers slid shut, firmly sealing the prisoners inside. The harm of machinery filled the silence as the computerized automation system powered up, displaying each subject's vital signs on a series of monitors, heart rates, brain activity, respiratory function, all recorded in real time. We will observe them remotely, Dr. Carr explained to her team. Her voice was calm and clinical. The computerized system will track their physiological responses while we focus on the psychological.

If our hypothesis is correct, we'll see a gradual breakdown of their mental faculties as the isolation takes hold. Fear, paranoia, hallucinations, all of these are expected. But we must push them further. only by pushing the mind to his breaking point where we uncover the true nature of human consciousness and the very essence of what we are as a species, that which makes us distinct from all other animals. As she spoke, the team adjusted the settings on their monitors, preparing for the days ahead. The control room was filled with a soft glow of screens and the low hum of electronics, yet it felt uncomfortably sterile, as if knowingly detached from the horrors that would soon unfold just a few hundred,

hundred feet away. Dr. Carr's gaze lingered on the screen showing subject one, a man with a deep-set eyes and a hardened face. He sat in his chamber staring at the wall, completely unaware of what awaited him. He wasn't alone in that. None of the test subjects truly understood what they'd agreed to. And something akin could be said of Dr. Carr.

Though she would never admit it, she wasn't entirely sure what she was about to unleash either. Nevertheless, she couldn't let doubt cloud her mind. The experiment had begun. There was no turning back now. One by one, the red lights in the subject's chambers blinked out, plunging them into total darkness. The base fell into an overwhelming silence.

Only the soft hum of the computerized automation system and the steady beeping of heart monitors remind the team that life still persisted within those cold concrete walls. For now, Dr. Carr stood back. Her heart was racing in quiet anticipation. This was the moment she'd been waiting for, the point where the human mind would finally be stripped of all its defenses. They'd totally bear for her to study.

But even as she watched the screens, a small, unshakable feeling of dread settled in the pit of her stomach. Something about this place, this experiment, these tunnels, felt wrong. Day seven. The seventh day, the air in the underground facility had grown heavier, as if there was a suffocating silence that seemed to press in on the researchers as they sat before their monitors. The isolation experiment was well underway, and the subjects, now devoid of any external stimuli for a full week, were beginning to show signs of severe psychological distress.

Dr. Carr observed the data on the screens in front of her, meticulously taking notes, with her brow furrowed in concentration. Finally, this was the moment she'd anticipated, the point at which the human mind, starved of sensory input, would begin to unravel. The first signs of breakdown appeared in subject two, a wiry man named Thompson, an individual of dubious moral fibre

convicted of multiple violent crimes. Initially, his response to the isolation had been stoic. He'd spent the first few days pacing his small windowless sound, occasionally muttering to himself, but nothing of more concerned. However, on day seven, the camera showed him curled in the corner of his chamber, rocking back and forth, his hands gripping his head as though trying to physically keep something out. His breathing was extremely rapid, his heart rate spiking well above normal levels. Get them out, he was muttering over and over.

They're in here with me. "'What on earth is he talking about?' "'One of the researchers Dr. Patel asked from behind his screen. "'His voice uneasy. "'He tapped at the keyboard, trying to access more detailed data, "'but the computer system was somehow unexpectedly slow to respond, "'his interface flickering slightly. "'He's hallucinating,' Dr. Carr replied coolly,

"'her eyes fixed on the footage of Thompson. "'Nest to be expected at this stage. "'His mind is grasping for any sense of reality yet confined. We'll see more of this from the others soon enough. True enough, within hours, the other subjects followed suit. Subject one, a muscular sullen man named Harris, had been calm and mostly silent until that day. But now he was pacing his cell furiously, fists clenched, whispering unintelligible words under his breath. He would occasionally stop, staring at the wall, as though someone or something was standing there.

His eyes would widen in fear, and he would step back, shaking his head. It's coming, Harris murmured. His voice was only just audible over the intercom. I can see it, crawling out of the dark. The most disturbing change came from Subject 3, Davis, a former special force is operative. He'd been pretty much unresponsive for several days, sitting motionless in the middle of his cell, barely reacting at all to the isolation. But on day seven, Davis had begun screaming. It wasn't a scream of anger or frustration.

It was a primal, guttural sound, as though he was in the grip of some unimaginable terror. His fists pounded against the padded walls of his chamber, his voice hoarse as he begged to be released. They're in here, Davis howled, clawing at his face. Get them out. Get them out. By now the research team was growing increasingly uneasy. Dr. Carr remained outwardly calm, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of concern. The computer system, which had been flawlessly tracking the subject's vitals, was now reporting strange inconsistencies.

Subject 1's heart rate had surged 180 beats per minute, well beyond a dangerous threshold, but the subject showed no outward signs of physical strain beyond his increasing paranoia. We're getting anomalous data, Dr. Patel muttered, frowning at his screen. Their heart rates are spiking, but there's no corresponding decline in their physical health. And the computerized automation keeps glitching. Look, the feed's not right. Dr. Carline forward, her eyes narrowing as the camera footage flickered. The images of the subject seem to distort, with brief flashes of static crossing the screen. For a moment,

in Thompson's chamber, the camera showed what looked to be a shadow, a dark elongated figure that seemed to stand in the corner of the room. But when the image stabilized, the shadow was gone, and Thompson was once again alone. Did you see that? One of the other researchers, Dr. Mallory, asked. Her voice tense. What was that? It was just interference, Dr. Carr said quickly.

Even she wasn't entirely sure. She tapped at the controls, attempting to reset the cameras, but the system was sluggish, unresponsive. The computer system's diagnostic readings blinked erratically, spitting out data that made no sense, spikes in brain activity that should have rendered the subjects unconscious, heart rates that fluctuated wildly yet never seemed to cause any physical distress. As the team scrambled to figure out what was wrong, the intercom system suddenly crackled to life. At first, it was just static, a low hiss that filled the control room. Then, beneath the noise, voices began to emerge, faint, garbled as though coming from a great distance.

The researchers froze, staring at the speakers trying to make sense of the sounds. Coming, the voice whispered, distorted but unmistakably human. Waiting. Who's that? Dr. Mallory asked, her voice tight with fear. that's not one of the subjects, is it? Before anyone could answer, the intercom crackled again, this time louder, more insistent. The voices grew clearer, overlapping in a bizarre, disjointed chorus.

It wasn't just one voice. It was all five subjects speaking as one. Their words blend in together in a haunting, incomprehensible stream. We have arrived, the voices said, low and guttural. we are not alone. The door is open. The researchers exchanged uneasy glances, their fingers hovering nervously over their keyboards.

Dr. Carr stood frozen, her mind racing. This wasn't supposed to happen. The subjects weren't supposed to be able to communicate with each other. They were isolated in separate chambers, cut off from any contact. I don't understand, Dr. Patel stammered. his eyes wide. They can't be... The voice is cut off abruptly,

leaving only a deafening silence in the control room. For a long moment, no one spoke. Then, just as Dr. Carr was about to issue an order to shut down the intercom, the cameras flickered again. This time the shadows weren't subtle. They loomed large in each chamber, standing beside the subjects, motionless,

dark shapes with no discernible features. The subject stared at them, wide-eyed, trembling, but they made no move to escape. They didn't scream. They simply watched. Dr. Carr's heart pounded in her chest as the realization struck her. Whatever was happening inside those chambers was no longer within her control. Day 10.

By the tenth day, the atmosphere in the control room had shifted from tense curiosity to something far more unnerving. There was an undercurrent of fear, barely contained beneath the professional detachment of the research team. The footage from the cameras inside the isolation chambers had become more disturbing with each passing hour. What had initially been dismissed as hallucinations, the shadowy figures that appeared to stand in the corners of the rooms had now taken on a chilling clarity.

The figures were no longer fleeting glimpses. They lingered, looming over the subjects, their presence undeniable. On the monitors the shadows moved with purpose, drifting across the cells, sometimes hovering mere inches from the prisoners. The subjects no longer screamed in terror, as they had on earlier days. Instead, they sat motionless, eyes wide, watching the figures with a kind of horrified reverence, as though something beyond their comprehension was unfolding before them. Dr. Car stood at the centre of the control room, her eyes fixed on the screens.

She'd been silent for most of the day, her mind struggling to make sense of what she was seeing. Beside her, Dr. Patel and Dr. Mallory whispered nervously to each other, occasionally glancing at the flickering data feeds. The computerised automation system continued to malfunction, reporting bizarre fluctuations in the subject's vitals, heart rates that soared to deadly levels before abruptly stabilising. Brain activity that seemed to suggest a heightened state of consciousness rather than the expected mental decline. Hallucinations, Dr. Mallory murmured, though her voice was shaky. It has to be.

Extreme sensory deprivation can cause the brain to project images. It's a coping mechanism. Dr. Carr didn't respond. Her eyes were locked on the screen showing subject one, Harris. His once strong muscular body Had deteriorated unnaturally fast Over the past few days His skin, now an unhealthy shade of grey,

clung to his bones And his face was hollowed out As though he'd aged decades in a matter of hours Yet his eyes were disturbingly alert, Wide and dilated As if seeing something that the cameras couldn't capture He hadn't eaten in days But he no longer seemed frail,

Quite the opposite. Harris moved with an unuttered with an unsettling grace, his body seeming stronger, more powerful than it had ever been. Look at them, Dr. Patel whispered, pointing at the screen showing subject to, they're decaying, but they're also getting stronger, and that's not possible. When Dr. Carr finally spoke, her voice was low and subdued. It's beyond isolation now. Something else is happening.

The Ministry of Defence had been breathing down her neck for days, Demanding updates, pushing for results. The success of Project Blackwater, in their eyes, was paramount. They needed something, anything, that could justify the cost and secrecy of the experiment. Dr. Carr had assured them that the breakdown of the subject's minds was a necessary step toward uncovering the true nature of human resilience under extreme conditions. But this, this was beyond what she had anticipated. She was beginning to fear that whatever they'd unleashed in those chambers could not be easily explained by science.

The shadows continue to move within the rooms, sometimes brushing against the subjects, who flinched at the slightest contact but did not cry out. The physical changes in the prisoners were undeniable now. The skin of all of them had taken on a sickly grey hue, and their eyes were black, the pupils dilated beyond what should have been possible. Yet they were clearly not weak or dying. If anything, they were growing stronger, unnaturally so. One of the soldiers stationed in the control room had commented that they looked like they were the walking dead,

and the comparison that sent a shiver down the spines of everyone present. We need to stop this, Dr. Mallory said, her voice barely above a whisper. This isn't right. We should shut it down before... Before she could finish, the alarms blare. The sound was deafening, echoing through the control room and sending the team into a brief moment of panic. Dr. Patel rushed to his terminal, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he tried to determine the source of the alert. It's the tunnels, he said, his voice rising in alarm.

There's been a collapse, sections of the facility that they've caved in. Dr. Carr's heart raced. She grabbed the radio on her desk and called for the security team stationed outside the control room. Static crackled back at her, but no one responded. Her pulse quickened and a sense of dread was creeping over her. How bad is it? she demanded, turning to Dr. Patel. Bad, he replied, his face pale. The tunnels leading to the isolation chambers.

They've been sealed off. We can't get to the subjects. The panic in the room was unmistakable now. Dr. Mallory stood up, pacing nervously. "'We have to get them out of there. "'They're trapped.' "'Calm down,' Dr. Carr snapped, "'though even she felt the growing terror in her chest.

"'We can't act without a plan. "'The facility structure is old, "'and collapses are possible, "'but it doesn't mean the chambers have been compromised.' "'But the words felt hollow. "'deep down she knew something was terribly wrong. "'Flicker of motion on the monitors caught her eye. The shadows were growing darker, more defined.

In Harris's chamber, the shadowy figure that had once been a vague presence now stood fully formed, a towering dark mass that seemed to absorb the light around it. Harris was standing too, his head tilted back, eyes wide as if in awe. The intercombelled to life again, but this time the voice that came through was not garbled. It was clear, cold, and unrecognisable. "'We are here,' it said, the voice deep and otherworldly. "'The door is open.' At this Dr. Carr's blood ran cold.

She glanced at the other monitors. Every subject was now standing, their bodies rigid, their eyes black. The shadows surrounded them, pressing close, almost merging with their decaying forms. They're still alive. Dr. Patel said, his voice trembling, They're vitals. They're still alive. How?

Dr. Mallory whispered. They should be dead. Dr. Carr shook her head, her mind racing. It doesn't matter. We need to get out of here. We need to seal this place off. But before anyone could move, the facility's lights flickered, and the monitors cut to static.

The shadows, the subjects, everything disappeared from view. The only sound left in the control room was the eerie, rhythmic beeping of the computer system, still tracking the subject's vitals as though nothing had changed. But everything had changed. The door had been opened, and whatever had come through wasn't going to let them leave. Some of the tunnels had collapsed, trapping the research team in the control room.

The air grew thick with fear as they realized that escape was no longer. longer an option. We're not getting out of here, are we? Dr. Mallory asked, a voice, a thin whisper, barely holding back hysteria. Dr. Carr didn't answer. She was staring at the blank screens, her mind racing, searching for a way to stop the nightmare that she had unleashed. The downward spiral. The control room had descended into chaos. The flickering lights cast unsettling shadows, while the static field monitors offered no glimpse of what was happening inside the isolation chambers. Eleanor's hands trembled as she stood before the console, her eyes darting between her terrified team and the unresponsive controls.

The realization had settled over her like a cold wait. The experiment had spiraled far beyond their control. Right, we're shutting this down, Dr. Carr orders. Her voice was sharp and stubborn, though a noticeable thread of fear, to cut her usual calm. She slammed her hand on the emergency abort button, expecting the system to cut power to the chambers and end the experiment. But nothing happened.

The button flickered weakly beneath her palm, and then went dead. Dr. Patel scrambled to the backup systems, his fingers flying across the keyboard. The controls aren't responding. I can't access anything. The whole system's frozen. "'I'll try again,' Dr. Mallory shouted, with panic rising in her voice. She was pacing the room now, her eyes wild, darting from screen to screen.

"'We need to get them out of there.' Dr. Carr clenched her fists. She was forcing herself to stay composed. Reset the power grid. We'll shut everything down manually if we have to. As Dr. Patel worked furiously to restore power, the air in the control room grew oppressively thick. as a sense of impending doom pressed down on them. The monitors remain blank, but now the intercom crackled to life once again, filling the room with eerie, distorted whispers.

The voices were disjointed, as if coming from deep within the tunnels, far away yet disturbingly close. Are coming, voices intoned, their cadence slow and rhythmic, as though reciting a chant. The door is open.

You cannot. stop it. The words sent a chill down Dr. Carr's spine. The voices were no longer those of the subjects. There was something else entirely, something far more sinister. What? What is that? Dr. Mallory asked, her face pale, her breathing shallow. Who's saying that? Before anyone could answer, the lights flickered violently, plunging the room into near darkness. The emergency backup lights kicked in, casting the control room in a dim, reddish glow. The beeping of the life support systems continued in the background.

A steady reminder of that, impossibly, the subjects were still alive somewhere deep within the facility. I can't restore control, Dr. Patel muttered. His voice was barely above a whisper. His hands were shaking, and he frantically typed at the console. It's like the entire system's been taken over. Nothing's responding. Dr. Carr's mind raced. She glanced around at her team, scientists and soldiers who'd once trusted her to lead them through this experiment.

Well, now they looked at her with fear in their eyes, waiting for her to provide an answer she didn't have. We need to get out of here. Dr. Mallory stammered, her voice trembling. We need to abandon this whole facility before— But before she could finish, something shifted in the corner of the room. A shadow. long, thin and unnatural, flickered against the wall. It moved slowly, its form barely distinguishable in the dim light, but it was unmistakably real.

It wasn't cast by anyone in the room. It wasn't a trick of the flickering lights. Dr. Carr's breath caught in her throat. Her eyes whitened as the shadow moved again, this time passing through the wall as if it were liquid, dissolving and reappearing in the far corner of the room. It flickered in and out of sight, like a figure moving between worlds. Do you see that?

Dr. Patel's voice was barely a whisper. His face drained of colour. What is that? The shadow seemed to solidify, just for a moment. It took on a vaguely human form, tall and distorted, with his edges hazy and blurred. It was like the figures they'd seen on the footage from the isolation chambers. Only now, it was here with them. Jesus Christ, one of the soldiers murmured, backing away,

his hand reaching for the sight I am holstered on his belt. It's in here, with us. More shadows appeared, slipping through the walls like wraiths, flickering in and out of sight, their presence thickening the air with an intense dread. They didn't move like living things. Their form shifted, stretching unnaturally, as though the laws of physics no longer applied to them.

Dr. Carr's heartbeat thundered in her ears. She backed away from the console, her gaze fixed on the shadowy figures. Her rational mind still fought to explain what was happening, to categorize it as a mass hallucination caused by their collective stress and exhaustion. But deep down, she knew the truth. These figures weren't hallucinations. They were real. The comms crackled again.

the voice is growing louder, more insistent. They are here. You open the door. You cannot leave. The lights flickered once more, and for a brief, terrifying moment, the room was plunged into complete darkness. When the emergency lights returned, the shadows were closer. They hovered over the researchers, and their presence was suffocating. Dr. Malory led out a strangled crud.

backing into the corner of the room, her eyes wide with terror. They're real. They're here. Even the soldiers trained to remain calm under pressure were visibly shaken. Their hands gripped their weapons, but none of them dared to fire. The shadows moved too quickly, too fluidly, sipping in and out of visibility like ghosts. Eleanor forced herself to think, her mind racing through the impossible possibilities. What had they unleashed in those isolation chambers? What had they brought into the world?

The tunnels, Dr. Patel said suddenly, his voice barely audible over the growing cacophony of whispers. We can't reach the tunnels because the tunnels collapsed. We're trapped in here with... With them. Another shadow passed directly through one of the soldiers, and the man stumbled back with a shout. His face, ashen.

He went right through. me, he gasped, his voice shaking, like I wasn't even there. Dr. Carr realized with a sinking feeling that escape might no longer be at an option. Whatever they'd been studying in those chambers, whatever presence had crossed the threshold, was now here, and it was growing stronger. She turned back to the controls, trying one last time to shut down the system, but the console remained unresponsive. The comms hissed, and the voices, no longer distorted, spoke clearly now, their mess is chilling and final. You open the door, they said, echoing through the room,

and now we are here. Dr. Carr's hands clenched the edge of the console as the shadows grew darker, larger, as if feeding off the fear that gripped the room. There was no shutting down the experiment. was no escape. The experiment had only just begun. The collapse. The rumble began deep beneath the facility, a low resonant vibration that made the walls shudder

and the floor tremble beneath their feet. Dr. Ellen in a car barely had time to register the seismic shift before the ceiling above the control room groaned ominously, loose debris raining down around her team. Shouts of alarm filled the room as the ground heaved, knocking equipment off tables and sending several researchers sprawling. Dr. Patel grabbed onto the edge of his console, his face pale. The tunnels, more of them are collapsing.

Another violent tremor shook the facility, and the lights flickered one final time before plunging the underground base into complete darkness. For a few harrowing moments, there was nothing but the sound of crumbling concrete, the muffled shouts of terrified researchers and the deep, guttural growl of the earth closing in around them. Dr. Carr's heart pounded in her chest as she fumbled for her flashlight. Her hands were trembling. When she finally clicked it on, the narrow beam of light illuminated the chaos unfolding in the control room.

The others were doing the same. Their flashlights cutting jagged paths through the blackness. The only thing standing between them and complete sensory deprivation. You trap down here? Dr. Mallory muttered, her voice shaking. She clutched her flashlight to her chest as though it were a lifeline. We're trapped. Panic was beginning to spread.

Not a car felt it too. The overwhelming weight of the earth above them. The realization that the tunnels are caved in, severing any possibility of escape. The facility was deep beneath the Scottish Highlands, buried far from any hope of rescue. Then came the sound that froze the blood in their veins. The voice, disembodied drifting through the darkened room, a voice not belonging to any of her team.

"'They're stronger now,' it whispered, echoing through the walls, seeping into every corner of the room. "'They're free,' Dr. Patel cursed under his breath, shaking his flashlight as if the light alone could dispel the creeping dread. "'Where the hell is that coming from?' his voice cracked with fear. Before anyone could respond, the intercom crackled to life with a high-pitched wine. And then, the screens, long dormant after the power outage, flickered back on, casting a cold, eerie glow over the room. One by one, the monitors displayed the isolation chambers. The figures on the screens were no longer hunched or frantic. Five subjects stood still, impossibly still.

Facing the cameras with their eyes wide open. Except their eyes weren't eyes anymore, not in any human sense. They glowed with an unnatural, sickly light. Their pupils dilated into black voids that seemed to consume the space around them. We are here now. The words filled the control room,

but they did not come from the intercom. They came from the subjects, five mouths speaking in perfect unison. Their deep otherworldly voices reverberating through the walls. Dr. Mallory screamed, backing away from the screen, her flashlight shaking in her hand.

How, how are they? What is this? She gasped, her voice cracking under the weight of the impossible. Dr. Carr stared at the monitors, her mind racing, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. The subjects weren't alone.

The shadowy figures, the one that had so quickly been dismissed as hallucinations, but coalesced around them, no longer formless spectres, but fully solid, moving with purpose, flickering in and out of the dim light like living shadows. They moved as if they were one with the subjects, indistinguishable from the darkness itself. They're in the control room too, Dr. Patel whispered, his voice barely audible over the thundering of his heart. They're all around us now. Dr. Carr swallowed hard, forcing herself to think through the fear. She was the leader. She had to be the one to act. The eyes flicked to the

control panel, the fail-safe she'd hoped to never use. It was their last resort, a desperate measure that would seal the entire facility, trapping whatever was unleashed inside forever. But it was a one-way door. Once activated, none of them would leave this place alive. We have to stop it. We have to contain whatever's inside those chambers. Dr. Carr said, her voice steady, though her hands were shaking. If we don't, it will get out. We can't let that happen. Contain it?

Dr. Mallory's voice was frantic. It's already too late. You saw what they've become. We're all going to die down here. The intercom crackled again, and the voices, those horrible, unified voices, spoke once more. You opened the door. "'You cannot close it now,' Dr. Carr's heart raced.

She knew they were right. They'd crossed a threshold that could not be undone. The isolation experiment had shattered the minds of the subjects, but worse, it had summoned something, something that now existed beyond the walls of the chambers, something that fared on the very fabric of reality. A shadow again passed directly through one of the soldiers standing at the back of the room,

and he collapsed, his body convulsing as the shadowed, disappeared into him. His scream echoed through the room, cut short by a choking, gurgling sound as his eyes rolled back into his head. His skin grew grey, his veins darkening as if some unseen force was draining the life from him. Dr. Carr made her decision. There was no time left. She sprinted toward the emergency control panel, wrenching open the protective casing that held the facilities fail-safe. "'No,' Dr Mallory shouted, "'realising what Eleanor intended to do, "'you'll kill us all.'

"'We're already dead if we don't stop this,' Dr. Carr snapped, her fingers trembling as she punched in the code. "'This is the only way.' Her hand hovered over the final switch. The fell safe would lock the chambers, collapse the remaining tunnels, and flood the facility with a toxic gas, ensuring that whatever had crossed into their world

would be trapped down here forever. It was a death sentence for everyone inside. The Doctor Carr knew there was no other choice. So she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and poured the switch. The room filled with a deafening roar as the fell safe engaged. The ground shook violently, the walls groaning as the remaining tunnels began to implode. Cutting off any chance of escape, a low hissing sound filled the air as the gas flooded the control room, spreading quickly through the facility.

The last thing Dr. Carr saw before the gas overtook her was the monitors, flickering, distorted, and the glowing eyes of the subject staring back at her. Their mouths moved in unison one final time, but their voices were no longer filled with menace. You cannot contain what you've become, they whispered, their faces eerily calm. We are, I have a lot of the here, and then everything went black, the escape. The gas hissed through the vents, thick and acrid, biting at Dr. Eleanor Carr's lungs as she staggered back from the fail-safe switch. For a moment, everything was chaos, the ground trembling, the walls groaning, and her team's panic voices echoing through the

control room. But even as the toxic fumes swirled around them, Dr. Carr knew this wasn't over. The experiment had gone too far, unleashed something beyond their control, and they were all trapped with it. Everyone out, now! Dr. Patel yelled, his voice strained as he covered his mouth with his sleeve, trying to filter the noxious gas. He grabbed Dr. Mallory by the arm, pulling her toward the nearest tunnel, the one that hadn't yet collapsed. The emergency lights flickered on, casting a dim red glow over the facility, barely illuminating the twisting maze of tunnels. Dr. Carr coughed violently as she stumbled forward, following the others. The mind raced, still grappling with the horror that they'd unleashed. The shadowy figures, those things, weren't hallucinations. There was something else, something far older and more

dangerous than any of them had imagined. We need to reach the surface. Dr. Mallory gasped, her voice shaking with fear. If we can get to the emergency elevator. But Dr. Carr knew deep down that there was no escape. The tunnels were collapsing faster than they could run, and worse, she could feel it. The presence, the eyes watching them from the dark. The shadows moved along the edges of their flashlights, whispering just beyond reach.

Their voices are low, mocking hum. As they ran, the first signs of the subjects appeared. Their distorted silhouettes standing motionless in the distance. The flicker of Dr. Patel's flashlight caught one, a figure standing in the middle of the tunnel, its skin gray, eyes glowing with that unnatural light. It was no longer human, no longer the prisoner who'd entered this place ten days ago.

It was now something else entirely. Oh, they're free, Dr. Patel whispered, his voice hollow with realization. He stopped in his tracks, staring at the figure as it moved toward them, slow but deliberate. "'Keep moving,' Dr. Carr barked, grabbing his arm and pulling him forward. "'We can't stop.'

They plunged deeper into the tunnels, but it didn't matter where they ran. The subjects, those grotesque remnants of their damned experiments, were everywhere now. Every corner they turned, there they stood, watching them with his glowing eyes. They moved in slow, jerky motions. Their bodies no longer bound by the limits of human flesh. as if the shadows themselves were guiding them. Dr. Mallory screamed as one of the figures lunged at them from the side, its face inches from hers.

But before it could touch her, it melted back into the darkness, a shadowy whisper that vanished as quickly as it had appeared. They're toying with us, she sobbed, clutching at her head. They know we can't get out. Dr. Carr tried to silence the fear, gloring at her chest. The air was thick with dust and gas, now, making it harder to breathe, harder to think. Every breath tasted like the end, but they kept moving, driven by a desperate primal urge to survive. The ground beneath their feet crackled and trembled,

the sound of crumbling stone growing louder with every step. And then the final claps came. The tunnel ahead buckled with a thunderous roar. A wall of rock and debris surged toward them. the air pressure knocking them off their feet. Dr. Carr hit the ground hard, her flashlight slipping from her grasp, the beam spinning wildly before cutting out completely. In darkness, consumed everything. She could hear the other screaming, but it felt distant,

as if the weight of the world was pressing down on her, muffling all sound. She tried to move, but her body felt heavy, pinned by debris. Her head spun, her lungs burning with the to-es-and-buttall. it gas still flooding the air. Dr. Carr, the voice caught out from the shadows, soft, almost a whisper. She couldn't tell if it was real or a hallucination. In the suffocating blackness she reached for her flashlight, her fingers trembling.

It flickered weakly as she managed to turn it on again, casting a narrow beam of light over the ground. There, just inches from her hand, was her notebook. the logbook she'd been keeping throughout the experiment. Her fingers closed around it, pulling it to her chest as her breathing grew shallow. The whispers grew louder, surrounding her now, the shadowy figures closing in, Dr. Carr knew the end was near,

but she couldn't leave without one final entry. With trembling hands she opened the notebook, the pages smeared with dust and blood. Her vision blurred, but she forced her. herself to write, her pen scratching across the page in jagged strokes. We were wrong. The words came slowly, her mind unraveling with every letter. She paused, her breath hitching as she felt the presence moved closer, watching her from

the dark. This was never about isolation. We opened something, something ancient. It was waiting for us, and now it's free. Her hand slipped, the pen falling from her grasp as the darkness swallowed her whole. The whispers, the figures, the experiment, they were all converging on her now. And then as if the earth itself closed its mouth, the tunnel collapsed fully, burying the remains of the blackwater facility beneath the Scottish Highlands.

Dr. Cow's notebook, her final testament, they buried in the rubble. Above in the quiet of the night The Highlands return to silence Except on certain nights When the wind howled just right And one could hear the faintest echo of voices Whispering from deep beneath the ground No one ever found the bodies of the research team

Or the subjects No one ever knew what truly happened But the legend of Blackwater grew The present day It was early October decades after the original experiment, when the small government task force descended into the long-abandoned Blackwater facility. The site had been sealed and forgotten by official records, but recent seismic activity had uncovered a partial entrance to the tunnels. The Ministry of Defence, long haunted by rumours and whispers, had quietly dispatched a team of investigators to assess the site and retrieve any salvageable data.

Officially it was routine, an effort to tie up old loose ends. Unofficially, though, the ministry was still searching for answers. The investigation team consisted of three members. Sergeant David Grant, a hardened military man. Dr. Emily Reeves, a geophysicist familiar with underground structures, and Professor Michael Harding, a historian specialising in declassified military projects. Armed with modern technology, drones, motion, sensors and advanced cameras, they descended into the highlands depths, stepping into the cold,

foreboding tunnels where Dr. Carr and her team had been entombed all those years ago. The air was stale and damp, and as they moved deeper into the facility, the ground beneath them creaked, as though the earth itself was reluctant to let them pass. Most of the tunnels had collapsed, but some remained open, leading them closer to the control room where Project Blackwater had been operated. Any signs of life? Grant's voice crackled over the comms as they moved deeper. Nothing yet, Dr. Reeves responded,

scanning the walls with her instruments. The readings were off. It was a faint electromagnetic disturbance, a signature that shouldn't have been there. Something's interfering with the equipment, though. They reached what had once been the control room. Thus lay thick over the consoles, papers and remnants of the past. As they carefully combed through the debris,

Professor Harding discovered a small, weathered notebook half buried under rubble. The pages were brittle and stained, but the words were legible, written in a hurried, uneven scroll. It's Dr. Carr's notes, Harding said, his voice hushed. She documented everything. Hey, a final entry. He stopped reading aloud as his eyes widened in disbelief, scanning that last cryptic message. We opened something ancient.

It was waiting for us. It's free now. As those words hung in the air, a strange sense of unease crept over the team. The facility felt alive, like it was watching them. A faint whisper echoed down the corridor behind them, so quiet it could have been mistaken for the wind through the cracks in the stone. but it wasn't the wind.

It was something else, and they all knew it. We should leave, Dr. Reeves muttered, her voice tight with fear. This place isn't right. It never was. Before anyone could respond, their comms went dead. The harsh static buzzed in their ears, and the lights on their equipment flickered, plunged the control room into semi-darkness.

Sergeant Grant tried the emergency radio, but nothing worked. The tunnel ahead, the way they'd come, was unnervingly silent. Suddenly from deep within the facility, they heard it. The unmistakable sound of stone cracking, like the earth shifting in its slumber. The sound grew louder, more ominous, as if the very ground beneath their feet was about to give way.

We need to move now, Grounds shouted. But as they turned to leave, something else caught their attention. At the far end of the control room, a faint figure materialised, standing in the shadows. It was human-shaped, but its features were distorted, its eyes glowing with a pale unnatural light. Did you see that? Dr. Reeves whispered, her breath quickening. But the figure was gone as soon as it appeared, leaving only the suffocating stillness behind. And then the whispers began. They started as soft murmurs, incomprehensible at first, but they grew louder, converging into a single, terrifying voice.

You opened the door. The temperature in the room plummeted. Grant reached for his gun, but before he could move, the lights on their cameras blinked out, and the feed went black. The only sound was the increasing groan of the earth above, the walls of the facility shaking under the pressure. The flickering glow of the flashlight, Harding's face twisted in horror. The shadows around them seemed to move, shifting unnaturally. Then, as if in response to some unseen command, the investigator stopped. Their eyes, wide and unblinking, filled with the same eerie glow that had overtaken the subjects years ago. They stood still, their bodies rigid as the air around them crackled with malevolent energy. "'I are here now,' they said in unison, their voices deep and otherworldly, echoing through the

collapsing tunnels. "'You open the door.' Above ground, the command centre monitoring their progress scrambled to re-establish communication. For several minutes, all they received was distorted audio and video, flashes of static interspersed with unsettling glimpses of the team standing emotionless, eyes glowing in the dark, repeating the same haunting phrase. The last image transmitted before the feed cut out entirely showed the investigators, no longer themselves, gazing directly into the camera.

Their eyes locked onto the lens as if they were looking through it, beyond it, into the world outside. And then, silence. The United States has experienced a significant proliferation of surveillance cameras in recent years. This expansion is not limited to government and law enforcement agencies. Private entities, businesses and individuals have also contributed to this growth. Surveillance cameras are used for various purposes, including security, traffic monitoring, and even personal home security. But the increased use of surveillance cameras has raised

concerns about privacy. Many argue that the widespread use of such technology can infringe upon individuals' privacy rights. Government surveillance programs, like the controversial NSA, mass data collection efforts, have come under scrutiny. Legal and ethical debates continue regarding the balance between public safety and personal privacy. Tonight's story takes this one step further. The Stalker Program By Cyver Bunny.

It was a Saturday. More precisely, the 10th century. of November, which I remember distinctly. It was the first day I felt the approaching winter cold soaring through the suburbs, and I pulled my hands back at the near freezing metal, the mailbox. The letter had a government stamp on it, and I almost tripped over the stairs as I couldn't pull my eyes away from it until I was inside. I also remember that date because it was the first weekend we spent it at home after a lengthy

honeymoon, which had been no less than perfect. "'Hawaii, waking up from the ocean, clashing with the coast. "'We've gotten matching tattoos that we would probably regret later, "'a small wave etched into his and my wrist. "'I saw it again when he removed the letter from my hand, "'appearing as puzzled as I was. "'Yeah, um, did you get into trouble?' he joked, "'while nonchalantly ripping open the paper with his thumb.

"'I was on my toes. He rose behind his shoulder, like a kid at the movies, attempting to catch a glimpse at the small font. When it said, congratulations, in slightly larger letters, and then, you have been selected to take part in our exclusive program. And that's where I stopped reading, thinking it as scam or some other kind of malignant practice. I just throw it in the trash, I advised him, but his stare was still stuck on the paper, transfixed, which left. me with a weird feeling. "'No,' he mumbled. More to himself.

Faster and faster his eyes traced over the lines. "'Oh, look, it's official.' He pointed at the stamp, a faint blue seal that seemed familiar. Moreover, it was printed on hard, thick paper that gave it some kind of perceived integrity. At this point I was getting impatient, simply grabbing the letter from his hands and skimming over it. surveillance program, only a few select citizens to participate. Please assemble at Town Hall, 12 p.m. How odd.

It slipped from me, but I couldn't find anything strikingly dubious about the contents. It was true public surveillance had been announced to undergo a massive expansion this year, if one were to believe the government's promises. They wanted coverage in all public places to cut down crime rates, drag missing persons and so on. It was nothing that interested me much, but apparently new technology was being developed that was made out to be a big deal if the specifics were ever released. It was only a testing program I hadn't heard of, but it was not rare for surveys and in-person testing to take place rather secretively until the results were ready for presentation. or usually we'd toss those letters and invitations, but something about it had seemed to pique my husband's interest. They're testing something new, her, probably technology-related.

He paced around the room, an idea in his mind taking shape. Sounds interesting. It's tomorrow already. You want to go? I probed. I suppose he didn't want me to notice, but he was definitely agitated about the prospect. He'd always loved fiddling with electronics, and was up to date with that surveillance campaign. On multiple occasions he tried to enlighten me on the possibilities it could open up, but I'd forgotten most of that.

It was a topic I listened to out of courtesy, not really interest. Hey, I know it's your thing. We can check it out if you want, I tried to reassure him. "'Really?' "'Well, his eyes lit up a bit, "'and he seemed bothered by something, "'checking the letter again. "'There's a problem,' he muttered.

"'What is it?' "'Well, it's addressed to me. "'Only me. "'No problem. I'll stay home. "'Wouldn't want to interfere in anything.' "'And that was a decision I would painfully regret. "'Nothing had been said about the time. time frame or the proceedings of the project. That's why I didn't worry me when three hours passed

with no message, and I only grew marginally impatient after five. The most comforting of fantasies I spurn in my mind. It's an official thing, I thought. Phones won't be allowed. They might have a buffet after, or simply long waiting times. But the clock mercilessly ticked on, and when the sun had set, I... I was reduced to a nervous bundle, pacing from window to window in between fruitless attempts at calling his number. It was impossible to sit here and wait. I had to see for myself.

Well, he'd taken the car, so I was left to traverse the distance to the town centre myself. It was luckily not far, but the night time and freezing cold added to my discomfort. It didn't help the lingering feeling arose in me. At first I pushed it away, attributing it to my anxiety given the situation, but I kept turning my head to all directions, almost frantically. It was as if there was someone observing me. The sound of my footsteps seemed to multiply, coming from everywhere at once, but my mind must have only been playing a trick on me.

I walked faster until I was nearly running, away from some invisible danger. Dark treetops obscured my sight on the neighbourhood, and it was as if the whole world had fallen silent, except for me. I reached the town hall out of breath, but immediately felt a wave of relief rush through my body as I spotted the car. It was painted a glaring red. I hated the colour, but just for a moment I was so glad to see it. I check there first, attempting to make out the inside through the paint.

everything just like I remembered it. But no trace of him. Well, then, I had no choice. I approached the mighty building, passing by the old architecture, and grabbed the handle with determination. I pulled, but the door wouldn't give way, adamantly pushing back at me. In disbelief, I tried again and again to no avail.

I felt tears welling up in my eyes. Never had I imagined myself here. Images shot through my mind. Obductions, murder cases, crime scenes. Well, I needed to calm down. There would be an explanation. Somewhere. Some when. Trying to take in a few deep breaths of the nightly air,

I let my eyes wander. This part of town was scarcely visited, especially at night time. It was no surprise that. the streets remained empty. Tall lamps had been set up, making the road faintly visible. Security cameras had newly been mounted on some of them, as well as on the fence rows behind.

Their bleak, shimmering eyes stared back at me. Only one stood out. I squinted so as to fix my stare on it. It was quite distant from me, but without doubt exactly lined up with my position. Somewhat unnerved by the idea of being recorded loitering around the town hall at night. I quickly moved past it, keeping it in my sight.

With every step I went, it seemed to follow me. I tested it, taunted it, repeatedly changing direction, and the lens turned with a mechanical jerk wherever I went. They didn't do that. They never did. It made no sense for a camera to have a motion sensor pointing to a frequented road. nothing made any sense at all. I felt dread rising up in my body,

the urgent need to leave this place first. I ran an odd curve to move out of the camera's scope of movement, but it wouldn't be as easy as that. To my horror, the black, emotionless glare of the lens rose up, far above the fence I'd thought it was attached to. Shadows were still coating it in obscurity, but soon enough it expanded in my field of view, moving towards me briskly and shakily. A man stepped out of the shadow, unmistakably a grown human that walked just the slightest bit too unnaturally, almost automatically.

Instead of a head, a security camera was mounted on his neck, twitching to keep up with my movement. Eh, well, it was faster than me. I wouldn't make it across the parking lot and back home. It was already too late to even try to escape to either side of me. I had no idea what that thing would do to me if it caught me, but I was in no mood to find out, shaken by a visceral fear. I felt my way along the facade,

scurrying across the side of the building while keeping the creature in sight. It took long, coordinated strides that were faster than I could possibly run. I almost stumbled over my own feet, concrete scraping along my palms. Suddenly they fell into emptiness. I tripped sideways into a narrow gap between adjacent buildings. In the darkness, it couldn't be said whether it led anywhere, but the approaching steps sounded faster and harder moved me to run further into the unknown alleyway.

I was squeezed in between the backside of the town hall and an apartment complex next to it. There was no light to illuminate my way, but it can't have been long until I reached a dead end. I'd gained a small lead enough to adjust my eyes to the surroundings. My hands brushed over harsh wire mesh to my right, where I had presumed only the town hall's concrete to be. There was a small gate inset into the fence that led to a flight of stairs, further down into what must be the building's basement. I rattled the door without thinking, only to discover it was held in place by a heavy lock.

It had been too tall to climb over, and besides, barbed wire was spun across its full length, which I might have seen as odd had I had time to think about it. I'd turn my attention away from the fence, as escape seemed to wait right in front of me. The alley ended in a high brick wall, over which I could catch a glimpse of the next road, and even a few apartments in the distance that had light shining through their windows. If I made it there, I could call for help. The thought was what drove me to grab the ledge with both hands

and cram my feet into the numerous gaps to push myself up. The task took so much of my strength that I hadn't noticed it. The footsteps behind me. It had caught up. Part two. For a moment, I thought myself safe, slowly climbing upwards until it occurred to me

that something still half human could climb too his limbs found creases to hold onto and its fingers stretched right after me just barely I made the final step and was able to pull myself up to stand right next to me

it did the same oh I should have just jumped at the exact moment but I miss my chance when I staggered trying to make out the ground below on the other side. And the thing used that moment to leap at me. Within a split second, I had to make a choice. It would follow me even if I jumped. It would follow me everywhere. I saw my leg cut through the air, hit its metal head with full force. The creature stumbled back as the camera's encasing cracked.

Just once more, I thought, and then I could push it off the other side and hopefully down. damage it enough to put it out of order. But... I failed. My second kick was flung through the thin air, just past its goal, and it gave the camera enough time to readjust and start its attack. I was pushed over, lucky not to fall off the wall entirely. It held me down.

A human hand wrapped around my neck, but my eyes staring at an unmoving lens. It squeezed firmly enough to hold me in place, but didn't seem to hurt me. Entirely still, I felt sucked in by the black void that was there in place of its face. Its aperture narrowed. It was as if it was squinting at me. In reality, the camera was just adjusting to the darkness. My sight was coated in a painful flash that turned everything a glaring white for a matter of seconds. and slowly but surely the world returned to normal.

There were sharp contrast that stuck out. One of them was a mark on the arm right in front of me, dark ink against his pale skin, a small wave with pronounced lines, just recently done. But it startled me, more than anything I'd seen so far. He let go of me to retreat into the darkness.

I, however, stumbled back in my own. own confusion, not either side but backwards through the barbed wire that cut into my skin, holding up my fall, until I landed another metre deeper on the opposite side of a locked fence. And it felt like minutes lying there in silence with the painful sensation of thorns that dug into me. I experienced it vividly when I made my first attempts to get up, shooting through every part of my body, small trails of blood that dried across my arms. "'Shit was the first thing I said to myself, into the silence, "'reminding me of how alone I was and now also trapped.

"'An obvious option would have been to wait until morning, "'here, in the cold, with no guarantee of anyone hearing my calls for help, "'even if the stores nearby opened. "'Well, a more appealing option was to breach the door right to my feet, "'leading into some part of the town hall. "'People might still be at work, there. He might be there. What I just saw, couldn't be right. Must have been an illusion of my tired mind. Nothing else made sense. I somehow convinced myself that he was there. He was all right.

I only had to go in. To my surprise, the door wasn't locked. They must have thought the gate would suffice in keeping unwanted visitors out. Inside, as expected, was pitch black darkness. I rummaged through my pockets through a light source, but my phone was at home, happily sitting on the kitchen counter. I must have forgotten it in my haste, and now I scolded myself for it. There was no other choice than to feel my way along the walls. They were cold and dirty, probably just a basement,

maybe an archive of some sort. And I was proven wrong when my fingers found a switch. Fluorescent lights flickered, spanning across the ceiling and gave sight to a large storage hall. It was incredibly bleak and boring in here. As I approached the middle of the room, the sound of my steps echoed back from the walls. Big cardboard boxes were stacked up to each side of me.

When that was all, because I couldn't find a reason why not, I decided to look inside. I withdrew my head with a gasp. They contained piles of large security cameras, similar to something I'd already seen. Frantically, I opened every box within my reach, but they all held the same contents.

Detached cameras, dozens and dozens, cable ends sticking out of them ready to be assembled. What was happening here? I wouldn't find answers unless. I descended further into the building, and the next door was already in sight. Taking a deep breath, I opened it, reaching a long corridor. There were plenty of rooms to either side of it, some with windows, some with light in them. It was now in danger of being spotted.

Normally, I should have run up to the first sign of human activity I could see. Something was telling me I wasn't supposed to be here. So I decided to keep it down, slowly crouched along the hallway, occasionally peeking through the glass panes. They all seem like common office rooms, with a few people sunken in their work inside, scribbling down something or working on their laptops. It seemed normal enough to give me some relief. Still, I didn't knock.

I felt like a criminal. Some explaining would be due if I was found in here. I certainly wasn't ready for that. Through another door, I could hear distilled. distant chatter. I was too curious not to listen in. There might be some information on the program on the whereabouts of the testers, anything. But I was disappointed as the two men's conversations seemed to revolve only around mundane topics, TV shows, family life, and the approaching end of their shifts. Either they were ordinary workers with no involvement in the

letters, or I'd caught them at an unlucky time. I was ready to move on, when suddenly Suddenly one of them was interrupted in the middle of a sentence. It was the ringing of his phone. Oh, orders from the boss, he jokingly exclaimed. From then on, I could only follow one side of the conversation, listened as the men's voices grew increasingly concerned, almost frightened. Escapeed, I could hear. And then, there's only a couple of witnesses.

We can easily gloss over it. Something was definitely wrong. I don't know, we'll find him, don't worry. Sending out a team right now. They listened to some more instructions through the phone line until the call fell silent. Oh, fuck, man, one of them muttered, and the other joined in. Over time it is again, then. I suddenly realized that they'd leave the room, forcing me to withdraw with no time to process what I'd heard. footsteps approached faster than I could have reached an end to the corridor.

I had no choice but to enter a windowless room to my side. As quietly as possible, I closed the door behind me. With a sigh of relief, I realized there was nobody in my vicinity. Voices again. An adjacent door was flung open. A crouched behind a shelf, I spotted just in time, frozen in place, overseeing the entire. of the room.

Luckily, everyone's back was turned to me, allowing me to observe in peace. It was no office room, though, with no tables, chairs, laptops, instead a sort of surgical table equipped with the according instruments. I held my breath, my mind spun circles

trying to make sense of the scenery. Surrounding it were three figures in sterile gowns, one seemingly the head of the operation, an elderly man with a slumped over posture, greyed out hair peaking out from under the white surgeon's cap. To his side were two younger assistants, giving him a hand in his tasks. What were they doing now? They removed some kind of tarp covering from that table, replacing it with a clean one. This was necessary because the sheet one of the men held and quickly rolled up was glossed over with a visible layer of blood.

It was unmistakably blood. I'd be fooling myself trying to assume anything else. This would all be perfectly normal, had I gotten lost in a hospital, but not here. A basement locked away underneath town hall, the same place I presumed my husband to be. They left the scene all at once. I stayed down and kept my shaky breaths quiet,

just in case I was right. They returned within seconds, and not alone, With swift step, a hospital bed was rolled in, carrying a lifeless woman's body. She might not have been dead, but was entirely unconscious. A limp body was lifted up and spread out onto the top. I felt nausea rising up in me. I didn't want to be here. I shouldn't.

But leaving now was no option. Opening the door was guaranteed to give away my presence. Looking away also didn't occur to me. It was like any horror scenario, nothing could have torn my eyes away from the gruesome events about to unfold. The old doctor released a long sigh, as if he was about to follow through with a mundane part of his daily routine. Without wavering, he picked up a long, hefty object. An axe, or a surgical axe, if you could call it that. It was polished and with a thin, fan-shaped blade that was sharp enough to see the edge even from a disdial.

distance. My eyes were transfixed. I believe I didn't even breathe. It was like a scene that usually cuts away just at the right moment, but this one didn't. I saw everything. It looked unreal. Have you ever seen anything like this? Not on the internet, I mean, but right in front of you. First, it feels like a cartoon, unreal and harmless, but still striking enough to remember every detail. It was odd how clean and swift it happened, barely a sound. The man looked like he didn't even have to try. The blade seemed to fall by itself, severing the head effortlessly. It was caught by his assistant, who carried it away.

I followed it with my eyes. The head of the woman who seemed so alive as if she could start talking in an instant. Well, I couldn't possibly process the fact that it was detached. It looked entirely normal for a moment. And after that initial moment, you'll realize and you might throw up all over yourself. I prevented that, luckily, because I was still painfully aware of my intrusion.

They immediately tended to the cut, stopping the bleeding, attaching something I couldn't quite recognize, until the third man arrived, not carrying ahead, but something close to it. The camera, I watched, paralyzed as the third man, as they completed her, attaching wires to nerves,

engineering her artificial brain. It might have taken hours or minutes. My perception of time was entirely lost at this point. Sometime, the team stepped away from the table, observing their creation. A jolt went through the creature. They all nodded in satisfaction. It gave me the feeling this exact scene

had transpired many, many times before. Well, it was finished. They seemed to be waiting for something to happen. It might have gotten up by itself, proving their success. It might have been supposed to do all kinds of things, but I saw none of that. Instead, with a single clicking motion, the camera turned from where it was lying, facing sideways.

Staring right across the room, directly at a pair of widened eyes that reflected in its lens. The last thing I saw in my human life was the image of a sharpened blade rushing at me, the dull eyes of a man to whom I was just another subject as my final conscious thoughts were cut off. Welcome to the stalker program, said the screen that was my soul mind.

Congratulations, you have been selected. A picture of a woman appeared, unknown to me. This is your target. Observe at all time. Blinking dots showed up in the depths of my mechanical conscience, but I couldn't quite see, but feel. I knew where she was. I knew I would be watching her.

Forever. And so once again, we reached the end of tonight's podcast. My thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories, and to you for taking the time to listen. Now, I'd ask one small favor of you, wherever you get your podcast wrong please write a few nice words and leave a five-star review

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