Brock's ragged breathing shattered the heavy silence once more. Both Brock and Quinn instinctively turned their heads toward Harrow. Their eyes, wide with unease, after a moment their eyes lock onto a figure seated in the shadowed distance behind him.
There, slumped in the farthest corner of the room, was a man — or at least the shape of one. He was curled into a ball. A tattered hood was hung low over his face, casting it in deep shadow, while a grimy cloth clung to his thin frame, resembling a crude, makeshift coat. It hung off him like a burlap sack, coarse and shapeless, giving the impression he had been abandoned there for years, forgotten.
An unsettling stillness surrounded the figure, broken only by the faint shifting of the coarse fabric as he breathed — slow, deliberate, almost inhumanly steady. Harrow looking back at them noticing their glare he states "that's nyy" both look over "Nyy?"
In Nnys mind was one occurrence....
The apartment was too quiet.
The kind of quiet that didn't feel empty, but watched.
He paced across the living room, bare feet pattering against the wooden floorboards. His mind was heavy, fogged with the lingering memories of this nightmare—if it had even been a nightmare at all it felt real. Shadows stretched long and strange under the dim lamp by the window, the edges of the room fuzzing slightly like the air itself was vibrating.
That's when he saw it.
At first, it was just a shape. A smudge of darkness too thick to be just a trick of the dim light. It stood in the far corner of the room, half-swallowed by shadow, unmoving.
His breath caught in his throat. A thousand rational thoughts flared at once: just your imagination, just the way the light hits, just—
He blinked hard. Shook his head. Still there. Still standing. Still watching.
A tight coil of fear pulled taut in his chest. Every hair on his body stood on end.
He stood up straighter, squinting into the dark. Maybe if he moved—stepped forward—it would vanish, just some weird angle, some mind trick.
But instead, the figure moved.
It raised a tentacle almost like a hand pointing at him.
Slowly. Deliberately.
His body acted before his mind could—an involuntary gasp tore from his throat, legs stumbling backward instinctively.
From the figure's outstretched hand, a thick, black substance shot into the room. It hit the floor with a sick, wet slap, spreading like ink. More of it followed, a gurgling rush that began to coat the floor, bubbling, creeping.
He bolted. Sprinting to the nearest door, slamming it shut behind him. His heart pounded against his ribs. Hands fumbling, he locked the door—though some part of him knew that wouldn't be enough.
Already the black goo was seeping under the door in slow, thick rivulets.
Backing away, he scanned the room, mind racing in search of protection. A weapon. Something. Anything.
His eyes landed on his bag tossed by the bed. Without thinking, he lunged for it, hands diving inside. Fingers brushed cold metal—taser.
He ripped it out, spinning to face the door just as the blackness thickened, bulging under the gap like it was alive.
As the first tendrils reached him, he jabbed the taser forward, squeezing the trigger.
A crackle of electric light burst out, stabbing into the black mass. For a second, it seemed to hesitate—the goo recoiled, shivering.
But then it grabbed the taser.
Slick black tendrils wrapped around his wrist, yanking with a strength that nearly pulled him off his feet. He tore away, the taser slipping from his grip, electricity sparking uselessly as it was swallowed.
Panicking, he stumbled backward, hands scrabbling along the wall until he found another weapon—a walking stick leaning against the doorframe.
He jabbed at the creature with it, thrusting hard. The stick sank into the goo... and was sucked from his hands with lots of force.
It was still coming. Slowly, inexorably.
He turned and ran for the front door, fumbling with the locks. As he wrenched it open, the creature exploded the bedroom door behind him, splinters flying like shrapnel.
No more creeping now—only furious, single-minded pursuit.
He sprinted into the hall, bare feet slapping against the tiles. Down the corridor toward the elevator. Slamming the button again and again, willing the doors to open faster.
Behind him, the blackness surged forward, not bothering to seep under any other doors—fixated only on him.
The elevator dinged. The doors slid open a crack—enough.
He threw himself inside, landing in a heap on the elevator floor. Too scared to even stand, he kicked at the door button with frantic feet.
The creature rushed toward him, faster, faster— And at the last second, the elevator doors slammed shut.
His breath rattled out of him, body trembling.
Safe.
The elevator jerked downward with a groan, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. A soft, mechanical voice announced the descent.
"Floor six..."
A loud thud shook the ceiling of the elevator.
He froze.
Another thud. Heavier. Closer.
Eyes wide, he could barely manage a whisper: "I'm dead... I'm dead... I'm dead..."
The elevator lurched violently, slowing just above the fourth floor. The doors jammed slightly open—a thin gap, barely enough space to crawl through.
Horrified, he curled tighter into the corner.
The ceiling above him dented inward with another crushing impact.
The creature was on top of the elevator.
The gap in the doors yawned wider.
If he stayed, he'd be crushed. Or worse.
With a whimper, he forced his shaking body forward, squeezing toward the opening. Cold air howled up from the shaft, the city's night noises eerily distant.
His foot slipped. A scream tore from his throat.
Just as he was about to fall—his fingers slipping on the metal—a hand shot down from above, grabbing his wrist in a bruising grip.
A second hand clamped down too, yanking him up and out of the shaft with impossible strength.
He tumbled onto the fourth-floor landing, gasping, heart hammering so hard he thought it would rip free.
The man who saved him crouched over him, his face shadowed, his black eyes burning with eerie calm.
He offered a hand to help him up.
Pulling him up and with a small, dry smile, he said:
"Hi. I'm Harrow…"