My lungs were still burning from the race against the giant chicken. To top it off, the main avenue was infested with monsters. Two options: take an absurdly long detour or head into the subway underground.
["Perfect. A dark tunnel, the smell of piss, and zero side exits. What could possibly go wrong?"]
I went down, holding the flashlight with my left arm because my right was still numb.
["It definitely would have gone through my arm if I hadn't jumped back from that attack,"] —I muttered.
I glanced at my forearm. The cut from the peck was superficial, but the guard was cracked. Shit. Damn barnyard T-Rex, don't let the rat kid see you again when he gets a real gun.
["Forget it."]
The inside of the subway was just as I remembered: damp stairs, sticky graffiti, broken lamps.
But the atmosphere felt especially heavy… Maybe the blood splattered everywhere and the lack of light had something to do with it.
And of course, the damn tunnel that you shouldn't go through even if everything is fine…
["This is such a damn bad idea…"]
My words and my actions don't match as I venture into the infamous darkness, unaltered without the beautiful presence of artificial light from a computer monitor.
The echo of my footsteps resonated, giving away my position as if it were intentional.
But with no other options, I kept walking, crossing my fingers that nothing would happen.
At least I was only raising death flags in my mind.
The rat kid's mouth is prudent when it needs to be.
Then I heard it: that fucking broken laughter, almost an asthmatic rasp, bouncing down the tunnel.
"Hes... hes... hes..."
["You've got to be kidding me."]
I cursed myself, but I didn't look back.
If I can't see it, it's not there.
Only the flashlight's beam and a straight path in complete darkness.
Only that exists.
My instincts were screaming at me: "WHO THE FUCK TOLD YOU TO COME IN HERE?" And they were right.
The rat kid knows he screwed up.
The rat kid wants to punch the rat kid for being such an idiot.
It's all the rat kid's fault. Damn it.
But I had already gone too far into this damn place.
.....
I kept walking until the laughter started to sound disinterested.
Only then, the same instinct that told me to ignore it and keep going, demanded that I turn around.
It seemed obvious.
Whoever this bastard was, they had the exact same unpleasant personality as us rat kids.
They enjoyed the pleasure of creating tension and misery.
["What ugly sons of bitches."]
I pointed the flashlight behind me.
Two red eyes, like dying embers, lit up in the gloom. Then, two more to the left. And another one reflected in a puddle.
"GRRRR..."
"Hes... hes..."
Thin bodies, patchy fur, bared teeth. They weren't coming straight on: they were slinking along the edges, harassing, enjoying the show.
My suspicions were confirmed.
"Tenebris Canis." The Cacklers.
I aimed my rifle and fired.
The pellet whizzed by; the one on the right leaped to the side with insulting ease.
["Of course. Hitting them is 'expert mode'."]
I complained inwardly. The dogs were being kept at bay by the light, not by me.
The problem was that the flashlight beam couldn't illuminate everything. If they attacked for real, it would be GAME OVER.
I backed away slowly, keeping them at a distance, trying to get closer to the exit without provoking an open chase.
Like the natural-born actor I am, I put on an anguished face, faking weakness to keep them interested.
It's not like a little pee escaped down my pants because I was scared. No. It was all part of the act.
"Heh... heh-heh…"
Look how happy they are. I should charge admission.
Finally, I saw a faint glow out of the corner of my eye behind me.
I had reached the next station.
"Grrr…"
Unfortunately, they noticed it too.
["Wait, I haven't even started crying and begging yet."]
"GRAAAA!"
Tough crowd.
With no other choice, I started running.
The flashlight was my only functional weapon.
I shone it randomly in all directions to make them hesitate and focused it precisely when one got too close.
But it wasn't enough.
The chattering of teeth snapping inches from my face became constant, as I relied on my instincts to evade the sharp fangs by centimeters.
"GRRR— heh!"
"GRRRR..."
As I got closer to the light, they became more aggressive, some dissolving into trails of black smoke to charge at me.
["I'm screwed,"] —I thought, just as too many of them lunged.
Then I saw it.
A few meters away, the subway turnstile.
Highly reflective metal structures, with a small mirror at the base. Why put a fucking mirror there? people rightly wondered.
But in this critical moment, my superior mind saw the truth.
Was it so dwarves could comb their hair in public without feeling excluded?
No.
Is it as the conspiracy theorists say, "to steal more taxes with ease"?
No… No, I said. Fucking paranoids.
The truth was in front of me all this time. It was an environmental puzzle! A set piece designed to interact with your equipment! They were created for this!
Their purpose was obviously to reflect the light from your flashlight and save your ass when you're being chased by mutant dogs from another dimension.
["Laugh at this, you sons of bitches."]
"Kaa!"
The dogs shrieked and recoiled from the sudden flash.
I jumped the turnstile and used the opportunity to gain some distance.
But they didn't take long to recover and follow me.
The exit was at the far end. Daylight filtering down from the stairs.
"TAK-TAK-TAK."
The claws on the concrete echoed with greater frequency, as if to declare, "The games are over."
A shadow leaped at me. I rolled. The flashlight beam licked its snout, tearing a sharp cry from it.
"Kaaaa!"
With a final push, I threw myself towards the stairs. Practically surrounded by living shadows that lunged like hungry wolves on a defenseless rabbit.
["GUAGH… COUGH, COUGH, COUGH…"]
The air escapes my lungs as I slam into the wall at the base of the stairs.
"""Jes… jes… jes…"""
In front of the sharp line that seems to divide the opposing realms.
From the kingdom of shadows, the flickering ones watch me, not with anger or frustration, but with their tongues out, wagging their tails as if inviting me to keep playing, panting with that broken laughter that drills into your nerves.
["You know what? I like you guys even less than the chicken."]
I turn off the flashlight.
The sun was ugly, but it was enough. I went up quickly and took out my phone.
No signal, no internet. But with something more useful: the PDF version of my monster journal.
I remembered the information to some extent, but I wanted to confirm they didn't have any magical tracking abilities or some obsession with chasing you to the ends of the earth.
JOURNAL ENTRY NO: 237
SCIENTIFIC NAME: Tenebris Canis
REGIONAL ALIASES:
Latin America: Los Carcajeantes (The Cacklers)
British Folklore: Gutter Hounds
Urban Zones: Laughter Dogs
NICKNAME (ASTRAD): Asthmatic Hyenas
📊 THREAT ASSESSMENT
CLASSIFICATION: VENATOR / TERRITORIALIS
A perfect and lethal hybrid. They are pack hunters that infest and claim a dark place as their lair and establish a hunting ground around it. They won't just kill you if they find you in the night; they will annihilate you for the simple fact of having entered their parking garage or tunnel.
DANGER LEVEL: ORANGE (3 stars)
A solid 3 Orange stars, and this is where things get technical. In the dark, they become semi-spectral, like trails of black smoke; bullets pass through them, annoying them but causing no lethal damage. You'll waste your clip on smoke and laughter. Your flashlight isn't just for seeing, it's the weapon that forces them to be flesh and bone. Without light, even one is a death sentence. With a powerful beam, you at least have a fighting chance.
AGGRESSIVENESS LEVEL: OPPORTUNISTIC
They are the definition of a bully. They don't look for a fair fight; they look for a victim. Their tactic is to create the opportunity, wearing down your sanity with that shitty laughter until you make a mistake. They push you mentally until you fall, and only then do they dare to bite.
🧬 COMBAT FILE (TL;DR)
TYPE: Beast / Spectral
AFFINITY: Shadow / Psychic
🎯 PRIMARY WEAKNESSES:
Intense light (makes them corporeal and vulnerable), Fire (repels and damages them).
📌 KEY STRENGTHS:
Semi-intangibility in darkness, Psychological warfare (demoralizing laughter), Coordinated and lethal pack, High Speed and Agility.
📚 ORIGINS AND COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY
British Folklore: They are the real incarnation of "Black Dogs," omens of death that stalked lonely roads. People believed they were demons; the reality is they're just assholes with very good hearing.
European Legends: They are often confused with Hellhounds but lack their affinity for fire. They are a more cowardly and psychological version; they prefer to torment you from the shadows rather than burn you head-on.
Pop Culture: Their hunting behavior (harassing and laughing) is strangely similar to that of certain toxic internet fandoms. The same anonymous bully energy.
Astrad's Analysis: Are they mutated dogs? Spirits of hyenas? The physical manifestation of a bad joke? It doesn't matter. They're proof that darkness has a terrible sense of humor.
📝 DETAILED ANALYSIS
PHYSICAL AND SENSORIAL DESCRIPTION:
A canid of a sickeningly thin build, with sparse black fur that reveals pale, taut skin over its ribs. In the dark, its body loses cohesion, becoming a trembling silhouette that stretches and deforms, often moving like a trail of dense smoke. Only its red eyes remain as fixed, glowing points. Under direct light, its form is forcibly "solidified," revealing its pathetic physical structure. Its most infamous trait is the "laughter": a wheezing, broken panting that mimics a human cackle, a product of an anomalous respiratory system.
BEHAVIOR AND ECOLOGY:
They infest places of permanent darkness and go out to hunt in lethal packs. A single individual is a deadly threat, capable of wearing down a lone survivor. A pack is a guaranteed massacre for the unprepared. The hunt is a sadistic ritual: they surround the prey, hidden in the shadows where they are nearly invulnerable, and begin their chorus of laughter to disorient and provoke panic. They enjoy the chase and will attack with swift, ghostly charges, retreating back into the shadows before the victim can effectively counterattack.
☣️ PROTOCOLS
RECOMMENDED ENCOUNTER PROTOCOL:
DO:
LIGHT IT UP BEFORE YOU SHOOT.
Use the most powerful light source possible to force their corporeal form.
Keep your back against a wall.
Move as a group toward illuminated areas.
DON'T:
NEVER SHOOT BLINDLY INTO THE DARKNESS (it's a waste of ammo and reveals your position).
Run without an illuminated destination.
Let the laughter paralyze you.
Separate from the group.
FIELD REPORT (Transcription of a night watchman's statement, Sector 3):
"...then I started to hear it. Sounded like kids laughing in the second basement. Impossible. I went down, and there was nothing. When I turned around, I saw the eyes. Red. Not one, but three pairs. And the laughter got louder. I didn't run, I froze. I dropped my flashlight. It was the sound of metal on concrete that snapped me out of it. I grabbed it, turned it on and... for a second, I saw those skeletal mutts, solid, before they shrieked and vanished. I quit the next morning. Let someone else watch."
🎤 ASTRAD'S NOTES (THE ONLY SHIT THAT MATTERS):
The Tenebris Canis is proof that natural selection sometimes favors the biggest asshole, not the strongest. It's not enough that they want to eat you, no, now they also have to laugh at your shitty cardio while you run for your life. They're the animal version of an internet troll.
Their 'laughter' is a weapon, no doubt. It's designed to make your brain panic, to make you wonder if you've gone crazy. And it works. But their real bullshit trick is that ghost mode they activate in the dark. You'll empty your clip and just tickle a pile of smoke with teeth. Pro tip: your flashlight is more important than your gun. Light is the switch that brings them into the real world so you can send them back to hell.
This is what defines the Shadow affinity in its purest form. Not the noble, mysterious darkness of comics, but the real darkness: the one that's petty, cruel, cheats, and laughs at you when you fall. If you hear cackling in a tunnel, it's not a comedy club. Light it up and pray.
["For your information: they've been my most empathetic audience so far…"]
On the other hand, I never thought the day would come when my own journal would insult me. And several times, at that.
["Fine. No tunnels. No parking garages. Light, noise, open street. Simple rules."]
I picked up the pace. Between the rubble and ruined houses, the silhouette of the school appeared a few blocks away.
["A few minutes on foot. If fate doesn't send me an extra boss, I'll make it in one piece."]
"heh..."
I looked back. Nothing at the mouth of the subway, only shadow. I gripped the rifle tighter, ignoring the pain in my arm and now in my back.
I kept walking. Light ahead. And the school, getting closer and closer.
["Damn Rat Kid 5. You'd better have put the beer on ice."]