The cold air of New York City bit through John's bandages as he stepped off his motorcycle, parking it in a quiet alley just outside of an old payphone booth. He pulled his coat tighter around himself before stepping into the booth, shutting the door behind him. The scent of old cigarette smoke and rust filled his nostrils as he picked up the receiver and slid a few coins into the slot.
The line rang twice before a familiar gruff voice answered.
"Bobby's House of Hell. Who's this?"
John exhaled, rubbing his forehead. "It's me."
There was a brief pause on the other end before Bobby Singer's voice softened slightly. "John? Damn, boy, thought you were dead. What the hell happened out there?"
John leaned against the glass, his breath fogging up the surface. "Louisiana was worse than I expected. I ran into something… something different. The Baker family, they weren't just sick. They were infected, controlled by something called Eveline. It was more than just a virus, Bobby. It was something unnatural."
Bobby sighed heavily. "Figures. Anytime the government's involved, shit hits the fan. What happened?"
John hesitated, his fingers tapping against the metal of the booth. "Eveline's dead. I made sure of it. Ethan Winters—some civilian—he got caught up in the mess too. We barely made it out. And the Bakers… they were victims as much as they were monsters."
"Damn," Bobby muttered. "You get any proof? Anything that might help us down the line?"
John pulled out a crumpled notepad from his coat pocket, flipping through the scribbled notes and sketches of the molded creatures, the symptoms, and what little he understood about the E-Necrotoxin. "Got notes. Maybe not enough to stop another outbreak, but at least enough to warn the right people. Problem is, I don't know who the 'right people' are anymore."
Bobby grumbled. "Yeah, well, welcome to the club. So what now? You finally coming in from the cold?"
John smirked faintly beneath his bandages. "Not yet. There's something else. I just caught a police report on the scanner. Mass murder, Beacon Mental Hospital. The way they described it… it doesn't sound normal."
Bobby groaned. "Kid, you just got out of one nightmare and you're running headfirst into another?"
John's grip on the phone tightened. "You know I can't ignore this, Bobby. If it's supernatural, if there's something behind this, I need to know."
A long silence stretched between them before Bobby finally let out a resigned sigh. "Alright. But you keep your damn head on straight, you hear me? You're walking into something bad."
John smirked. "Wouldn't be the first time. I'll check in when I know more."
He hung up before Bobby could protest, stepping out of the booth, adjusting the bandages wrapped tightly around his face and hands, and disappearing into the cold night. In the distance, he could already hear the faint wail of sirens.
Time to see what the hell was going on at Beacon Mental Hospital.
John arrived at the perimeter of Beacon Mental Hospital, the flashing red and blue lights of police cars reflecting off the rain-slicked pavement. The air was thick with tension, officers moving quickly to secure the area. He adjusted the bandages on his face and stepped forward, pulling a worn leather wallet from his coat. Inside was a fake FBI badge—convincing enough to fool those who weren't looking too closely.
As he approached the blockade, a uniformed officer held up a hand. "Hold it right there. This is a restricted crime scene."
John, keeping his voice steady, flashed the badge. "Agent John Booker, FBI. I need access to the scene."
The officer eyed him suspiciously. "FBI? Didn't hear anything about federal involvement."
John sighed, slipping the badge back into his coat. "That's because I don't have time for bureaucracy. What's the situation?"
Before the officer could respond, a man in a trench coat stepped forward, his sharp gaze studying John. His face was lined with exhaustion, his eyes dark from years of dealing with horrors most men couldn't fathom.
"Who's this?" the man asked, directing his question toward the officer.
"Says he's FBI. Name's John Booker."
The man frowned but nodded. "Detective Sebastian Castellanos. I'm leading the investigation here. If you're really with the Bureau, I guess you're my problem now."
John stiffened slightly at the name. Castellanos… it sounded familiar. He narrowed his eyes, studying the detective more closely. Something about his face, the way he carried himself—it pulled at a distant memory.
Then it clicked.
Back when John was in middle school, there was a high schooler he used to pull pranks on constantly. A cocky, mischievous teenager who thought it was hilarious to mess with the younger kids. John had spent a good chunk of his time making Sebastian's life a nightmare—hiding his books, setting up elaborate pranks, and generally making high school a bit more difficult for him.
Sebastian Castellanos.
John barely stopped himself from smirking. "No way… Sebastian?"
Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "What?"
John shook his head, amused. "It's been a long time. You probably don't remember, but I used to give you hell back in high school. I was that annoying middle school kid always messing with you."
Sebastian's expression shifted from suspicion to realization. His eyes widened slightly before a grin tugged at the corner of his lips. "Wait… no way. John? The little bastard who kept screwing with me? Damn, you look different."
John crossed his arms. "Yeah, well, time changes people."
Sebastian chuckled, shaking his head. "No kidding. You look like you walked straight out of a warzone. But if you're FBI, I'm guessing you've seen worse."
John's smirk faded slightly. He adjusted the bandages on his arms. "Long story. Not one I feel like telling right now."
Sebastian exhaled, his demeanor shifting back to business. His eyes briefly flickered over John's bandages before narrowing slightly. "What the hell happened to you, anyway? You look like you've been through a meat grinder." "Alright, Booker. If you're really FBI, then you're coming with me. There's something seriously messed up going on in there. Hope you're ready for it."
John followed as Sebastian led him toward the looming, bloodstained entrance of Beacon Mental Hospital. He had come looking for answers.
Sebastian exhaled, his demeanor shifting back to business. His eyes briefly flickered over John's bandages before narrowing slightly. "What the hell happened to you, anyway? You look like you've been through a meat grinder." "Alright, Booker. If you're really FBI, then you're coming with me. There's something seriously messed up going on in there. Hope you're ready for it."
As they walked toward the looming, bloodstained entrance of Beacon Mental Hospital, John glanced at Sebastian, his curiosity piqued.
John: "So, Sebastian… been a long time. You got a family? Wife? Kids?"
Sebastian hesitated for a moment before exhaling. "Yeah… was married. Had a daughter."
John raised an eyebrow. "Was?"
Sebastian's expression darkened. "My wife, Myra, she… she left after our daughter died. Lily. It was a house fire. After that, Myra got obsessed with finding out what really happened. She wouldn't let it go, and one day, she just… disappeared."
John nodded slowly. "Damn… I didn't know. I'm sorry."
Sebastian forced a small smirk. "Yeah, well, life's a bitch, huh?"
John: "That it is. You got a partner on this case?"
Sebastian: "Yeah, Kidman. She's sharp, but something's off with her. Feels like she's keeping things from me. Joseph Oda. Good cop, good friend. He's here somewhere, probably already inside gathering evidence."
John nodded. "So where is he now?"
Sebastian glanced toward the hospital entrance. "Inside. Oda's checking things out ahead of us. Hopefully, he hasn't found anything too crazy yet."
John tucked that piece of information away, making a mental note. "Well, secrets have a way of catching up to people."
Sebastian scoffed. "Ain't that the truth."
They continued toward the entrance, the weight of their pasts hanging between them. Whatever was inside Beacon, John had a feeling it would dig up more than just the present. He had come looking for answers.
John and Sebastian stepped into the main lobby of Beacon Mental Hospital, the atmosphere heavy with an unnatural stillness. The place was in complete disarray—desks overturned, blood smeared across the white tile floor, and the faint flicker of malfunctioning fluorescent lights casting eerie shadows on the walls.
Joseph Oda stood near a bank of security monitors, arms crossed as he examined the flickering footage. He turned as they approached, nodding toward Sebastian before his gaze settled on John.
Joseph: "So, this is the 'FBI guy' I've been hearing about?"
Sebastian smirked slightly. "Yeah, this is John Booker. Apparently, we go way back."
John extended a hand. "Detective Oda, right?"
Joseph hesitated for a moment before shaking John's hand. "That's me. You don't exactly scream 'federal agent,' no offense."
John shrugged. "None taken. I get that a lot."
Joseph: "Well, we've got bigger problems than credentials. Take a look at this."
He gestured to the monitors, playing back distorted security footage. The lobby had once been full of first responders and medical staff tending to the wounded, but then—
John leaned in, watching as the video glitched violently. In the next frame, the people in the lobby were gone. No movement, no sound. Just emptiness where a crowd had stood seconds before.
John: "What the hell? They just vanished?"
Joseph: "Yeah. And it gets worse."
He switched feeds, revealing another hallway. A figure stood there, cloaked in shadow, its head twitching unnaturally. Even through the grainy footage, the presence radiated something deeply wrong.
Sebastian tensed, staring at the figure. "Who the hell is that?"
John narrowed his eyes. "You know him?"
Sebastian shook his head. "No… but something about him feels wrong." Before anyone could say more, the lights overhead flickered violently, and a piercing, high-pitched noise rang through the air.
John grabbed his head, the noise stabbing through his skull like a hot knife. The room distorted—walls bending, the floor warping beneath their feet. The sound of distant screams echoed through the halls, blending into a chorus of agony.
Then, as suddenly as it began, the distortion ceased. The lobby returned to its previous state, but something was different.
Sebastian steadied himself, shaking off the dizziness. "What the hell just happened?"
John took a deep breath, his grip tightening on his coat. "That wasn't normal. Did either of you feel that?"
Joseph looked around cautiously, his hand resting on his holster. "I don't know what that was, but whatever's happening here… we just stepped right into the middle of it."
The three of them exchanged a knowing look. Whatever had taken hold of this hospital… it wasn't done with them yet.
The air in the hospital grew heavier as the three men steadied themselves, trying to shake off the strange sensation that had just overtaken them. The room was eerily silent, the lights no longer flickering but casting long, unnatural shadows along the floor.
John took a cautious step forward, glancing at Sebastian and Joseph. "Alright, we need to figure out what's going on here. If this is some kind of attack, there's got to be survivors."
Sebastian nodded. "There should be officers and medical staff still inside. We need to find them."
Joseph checked his pistol before motioning toward the hallway leading deeper into the hospital. "We start by checking the security room. If we're lucky, we'll find someone who can tell us what the hell is happening."
The three of them moved carefully, their footsteps echoing in the now-empty halls. The building felt abandoned—deserted in a way that didn't make sense. The scent of antiseptic mixed with something foul, something rotten.
As they approached the security office, John caught sight of something further down the hallway—a trail of blood smeared along the floor, leading around a corner. He motioned toward it. "There. Someone might be hurt."
Sebastian frowned but nodded, leading the way. As they rounded the corner, they came to a set of double doors, slightly ajar. Beyond them, the room was dimly lit, and the sound of something wet shifting against the floor reached their ears.
John instinctively reached for his gun, but before he could say anything, Sebastian pushed the doors open fully.
The room inside was a massacre.
Blood coated the walls, the bodies of officers and hospital staff strewn across the floor in grotesque positions. The stench of death was overwhelming.
Joseph muttered, "Jesus Christ…"
But what drew John's attention wasn't the bodies. It was the man standing among them, his back turned to them, dressed in a bloodied white coat.
Sebastian tightened his grip on his pistol. "Sir? Hands where I can see them."
The figure didn't move at first. Then, with an unnatural slowness, he turned his head—just enough for them to see a grin stretched across his face.
Then, in the blink of an eye, the lights cut out.
A guttural noise filled the air, and the room was swallowed in darkness.
John didn't hesitate. "MOVE!"
Before any of them could react, a sudden force slammed into Sebastian, sending him flying across the room. His vision blurred as he hit the ground hard, his head colliding against the cold tile. A sharp ringing filled his ears as his consciousness wavered.
John spun around, reaching for Sebastian, but the moment his fingers grazed his coat, everything shifted. A gut-wrenching sensation overtook them both—a feeling of being pulled through reality itself. The air twisted, the room warped, and in an instant, the hospital vanished.
When Sebastian came to, he found himself hanging upside down, bound by his feet in a dark, damp chamber. Blood dripped from the ceiling, pooling beneath him, and the air was thick with the metallic scent of iron.
John groaned beside him, similarly restrained. He twisted his neck, trying to take in their surroundings. "Well… this is new."
Sebastian shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "Where the hell are we?"
A deep, guttural scraping echoed through the chamber. Footsteps—slow, deliberate—approached them from the shadows. A hulking figure emerged, dragging a massive butcher's cleaver along the floor.
John gritted his teeth. "Yeah… definitely not in Kansas anymore."
The dim, crimson glow of flickering overhead lights cast eerie shadows across the blood-soaked chamber. The distant sound of chains rattling sent chills down John's spine as he and Sebastian swayed slightly, still hanging upside down. The scent of rusted metal and decay filled their lungs.
Sebastian gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay calm. His arms were bound tightly, circulation already beginning to fade. "This is bad."
John struggled against the restraints, his bandages soaked in sweat. "No kidding."
The towering figure in the distance dragged his massive butcher's cleaver along the floor, the metal screeching against the stone. The figure, clad in a stained apron and grotesque wrappings, moved with slow, deliberate purpose, his faceless mask betraying no emotion.
John narrowed his eyes. "That guy doesn't look like a doctor."
Sebastian huffed. "Yeah? Well, he sure as hell looks like a problem."
The monstrous butcher—**The Sadist**—stopped just beneath them. He reached up, gripping Sebastian's bindings with one massive hand. With little effort, he **cut the rope** with a single swing of his cleaver.
Sebastian crashed to the floor with a hard *thud*, gasping as the impact knocked the wind out of him.
John struggled harder, but The Sadist turned away, dragging Sebastian across the bloodied floor. John twisted against his bindings, his body swinging slightly.
"Oh, hell no."
With one sharp movement, John flexed his body upward, reaching for the rope holding his feet. His fingers grazed the bindings, but before he could pull himself free, The Sadist **threw Sebastian into the next room** and turned back toward him.
John took a deep breath. "Alright, big guy. Let's see what you got."
The Sadist raised his cleaver.
Then, just before the blade could come down, the rope **snapped**, and John fell hard to the ground. His vision blurred for a moment, but he forced himself up, ignoring the pain lancing through his back. He had no time to waste.
The butcher let out a guttural growl and swung again. John rolled to the side, barely avoiding the blade as it slammed into the stone floor, sending cracks spider-webbing outward.
Breathing heavily, John scrambled to his feet and **sprinted toward the door** Sebastian had been thrown through. The only thought on his mind: survive.
Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed, signaling that the nightmare was only just beginning.
John sprinted through the bloodstained corridor, his heart hammering in his chest. Behind him, the guttural roar of The Sadist echoed through the chamber, followed by the *crash* of heavy footsteps. The monster was coming after him.
Ducking through a rusted doorway, John slammed it shut behind him, locking it with a sliding bolt. He took a second to breathe but knew it wouldn't last. The Sadist was relentless.
Ahead, flickering lights illuminated a darkened hallway. The smell of rot and chemicals burned his nostrils. He moved quickly, his boots splashing through puddles of something he didn't want to think about. His mind raced.
*Where the hell did Sebastian go?*
As if answering his thoughts, a faint noise echoed down the corridor—something metallic scraping against the floor, then a low groan.
John followed the sound, rounding a corner into a room filled with medical gurneys and surgical tools. His eyes locked onto a figure struggling against restraints.
"Sebastian!"
Sebastian, still groggy from his rough landing, lifted his head. His coat was stained with blood, his hands bound to the arms of an old, rusted wheelchair. He blinked blearily at John. "Took you long enough."
John hurried over, checking the restraints. "Yeah, well, I had a minor disagreement with our new friend. You good?"
Sebastian groaned as John worked at the straps. "Define 'good.' My head feels like it got introduced to a brick wall."
John smirked. "Then you're fine."
The moment he loosened the last restraint, a *loud crash* erupted from the hallway behind them. The Sadist had found them.
John yanked Sebastian up. "Move, *now*!"
The two bolted down a dimly lit hallway, the sound of The Sadist's heavy breathing close behind. Turning a corner, they spotted an **exit door** marked with peeling red letters.
Sebastian gritted his teeth. "That's our way out!"
John reached it first, shoving his weight against the door. It groaned but didn't budge. "It's locked! We need another way!"
Sebastian's eyes darted around before landing on a nearby **maintenance hatch**. "There!"
They both scrambled for it, but as John reached for the handle, a **massive cleaver** swung down, barely missing his head. The Sadist's inhuman growl filled the room.
John shoved Sebastian through the hatch first before diving in himself. The moment they were both inside, Sebastian kicked the hatch shut, locking it behind them.
Panting, John looked at Sebastian. "You do this kind of thing often?"
Sebastian wiped blood from his brow. "You'd be surprised."
Catching their breath, they pushed forward into the darkness, hoping that whatever lay ahead was better than what they had just escaped.
John and Sebastian moved cautiously through the damp, claustrophobic passageway, the flickering emergency lights barely illuminating the rusted pipes lining the walls. The air was thick with the stench of rot and stagnant water, making every breath feel heavy.
Sebastian wiped the sweat from his brow, still shaken from their close call. "I swear, every time I think things can't get worse… they do."
John scoffed. "Yeah, well, welcome to my life. Come on, let's keep moving."
They followed the narrow corridor, their footsteps echoing in the enclosed space. As they turned a corner, a faint noise caught John's attention—a low, distorted hum, like a broken radio signal. He gestured for Sebastian to stop, both of them instinctively pressing their backs against the damp metal wall.
Sebastian whispered, "You hear that?"
John nodded, gripping a rusted pipe as a makeshift weapon. "Yeah. And I don't like it."
As they crept forward, the noise grew louder, warping into an eerie, inhuman whisper. Then, just ahead, a dim light flickered, revealing a **security checkpoint**. A desk covered in old paperwork sat beneath a cracked monitor, the screen blinking erratically.
Sebastian exhaled. "Looks like we can access the hospital's security system from here. Might tell us where the hell we are."
John moved forward first, cautiously checking the area. The room appeared empty—except for the **bloodstained chair** in the corner, restraints hanging loosely from its armrests. A chill ran down his spine. Someone had been here recently.
Sebastian sat at the desk and began typing on the keyboard, bringing up the hospital's layout. "Alright, looks like we're in the underground maintenance tunnels. There's an access ladder up ahead that leads back to the main hospital. If we can get to the next floor, we might find a way out."
John exhaled. "Good. Because I don't want to stick around and see what made that noise."
Just as the words left his mouth, the screen **glitched violently**, static flooding the room. The distorted hum returned, louder than before, causing the lights to flicker wildly.
Then, the security feed changed.
John and Sebastian watched in horror as the camera footage showed **themselves**—standing in the security checkpoint—**but behind them stood a tall, hooded figure.**
Sebastian's blood ran cold. "John… we need to move. Now."
Before John could turn around, the lights **shut off completely**, and the whispering became a deafening **scream.**
The nightmare wasn't over.
It was only getting started.
The deafening scream sent a chill down John's spine as the room plunged into darkness. His pulse pounded in his ears as he reached for Sebastian, but his fingers grasped only empty air.
"Sebastian?" John called out, his voice barely above a whisper.
A faint grunt came from his left. "I'm here. Keep moving!"
The flickering emergency lights returned just in time for them to see the hooded figure **lunging forward**. John shoved Sebastian toward the exit, gripping the rusted pipe in his hands as he braced for an attack.
But just as quickly as the figure had appeared, it vanished. The room warped and distorted once more, the air thick with static.
John staggered, gripping his head as the pressure threatened to crush his skull. Then, everything **snapped back into focus**.
They were back in the **underground tunnels**, standing in front of the security checkpoint as if nothing had happened.
Sebastian groaned, shaking off the dizziness. "I hate this place."
John exhaled sharply. "Yeah, well, let's get the hell out of here before it decides to mess with us again."
Sebastian nodded and led the way through the tunnels. The overhead pipes dripped with condensation, and the damp air carried the foul scent of decay. They followed the map's layout, eventually reaching a rusted **maintenance ladder** leading up to a hatch.
Sebastian climbed first, pushing open the hatch. A blast of cold air hit his face as he emerged onto a bloodstained hospital corridor. He reached down and helped John up.
John scanned the area. The hallway was dimly lit, the walls peeling with age. The silence was unsettling.
Sebastian pointed ahead. "That elevator should take us back to the main floor. If we can make it there—"
A guttural growl echoed down the hallway, cutting him off.
John turned toward the sound, his muscles tensing. From the shadows, **a grotesque, multi-limbed creature** emerged, its movements jerky and unnatural. Its twisted body convulsed as it let out an unnatural shriek.
Sebastian pulled out his gun. "Run!"
John didn't argue. They sprinted toward the elevator as the creature **crawled rapidly** along the walls and ceiling, closing in fast. Sebastian slammed the button repeatedly, willing the doors to open.
With a *ding*, the elevator slid open, and they dove inside. John turned just in time to see the creature lunge—only for the doors to **slam shut**, severing one of its writhing limbs.
The severed limb **twitched violently** on the elevator floor before dissolving into a pool of thick, black sludge.
Sebastian let out a shaky breath. "That was too close."
John leaned against the wall, catching his breath. "I'm starting to think Louisiana wasn't so bad after all."
The elevator rumbled as it ascended, carrying them toward whatever fresh nightmare Beacon still had waiting for them.
The elevator rattled and groaned as it ascended, the dim overhead light flickering. John and Sebastian stood in tense silence, catching their breath after their narrow escape. The severed limb of the creature had melted away, leaving only a dark stain on the elevator floor.
Sebastian rubbed his temples. "Whatever that thing was, I don't want to see another one."
John smirked, though the exhaustion was evident in his voice. "We agree on that much."
Sebastian leaned against the railing, exhaling sharply. "You've handled yourself well back there. Doesn't feel like your first time dealing with crazy shit."
John chuckled dryly. "Let's just say I've had my fair share of bad nights. This one might take the top spot, though. What about you? You always end up in places like this?"
Sebastian shook his head. "Not exactly. But I've seen my share of blood. Worked homicide for a long time before this. Thought I'd seen the worst people could do." He glanced at the dark stain on the floor. "Turns out, I was wrong."
John nodded. "Yeah, the world's got a way of surprising you. And not in the good way."
Sebastian sighed. "You don't talk much about your family. What's your deal?"
John hesitated for a moment. "It's complicated. My old man's a military hard-ass, always pushing us to be soldiers first, sons second. My brothers? I love them, always have, but we were raised to follow orders, and that doesn't leave much room for anything else."
Sebastian nodded. "Sounds familiar. Duty over family, right? That kind of life… it doesn't leave much room for anything else."
John leaned against the railing. "I never left. My brothers and I, we were raised in it, trained for it. I love them, but our old man made sure we'd be soldiers before anything else. Still, I stuck around, if only to watch their backs."
Sebastian studied him for a moment, then sighed. "You and me both, pal."
Before either of them could say more, a sudden jolt shook the elevator violently, causing the lights to flicker again.
A sudden jolt shook the elevator violently, causing the lights to flicker again. The panel above the doors blinked erratically, the floor numbers scrambling out of sequence.
John braced himself. "Tell me that's normal."
Sebastian shook his head. "Not even close."
A high-pitched screech filled the air, and the elevator **plunged downward** at an alarming speed. John and Sebastian slammed against the walls, gripping the railing for support. The lights **went out completely**, plunging them into darkness.
Then—
**Silence.**
The elevator came to an abrupt stop. A faint, unnatural glow seeped through the cracks of the doors, casting eerie shadows inside.
Sebastian exhaled, steadying himself. "We need to get out of here."
John nodded. "Agreed. But something tells me we're not where we're supposed to be."
Sebastian reached for the emergency release and pried the doors open. Beyond them, a **twisted, nightmarish version of the hospital** awaited. The once-sterile walls were now pulsating with dark, organic growths, and the floor was slick with a thick, red substance.
John stepped forward cautiously, scanning the warped hallway. "Yeah… definitely not normal."
A distant, echoing **laughter** sent a shiver down their spines.
Sebastian readied his gun. "Stay close. I've got a bad feeling about this."
Together, they stepped out of the elevator, fully aware that the nightmare was far from over.
John and Sebastian stepped cautiously into the twisted corridor, their eyes scanning the shifting, pulsating walls of Beacon's nightmarish transformation. The air was thick with the stench of decay, and the flickering emergency lights cast unsettling shadows along the blood-slicked floors.
Sebastian tightened his grip on his pistol. "Whatever's happening here, it's getting worse."
John nodded, scanning their surroundings. "Feels like we walked straight into someone's fever dream. A bad one."
As they moved forward, the distorted laughter they had heard earlier grew louder, echoing unnaturally down the hallway. The sound seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. Then, without warning, the walls *shifted*, contorting and pulsing as if they were alive.
Sebastian tensed. "Did you see that?"
John exhaled sharply. "Yeah. And I don't like it."
A *loud crash* erupted behind them, followed by the sound of something **huge** slamming against the wall. The force sent a tremor through the floor beneath their feet.
Sebastian turned sharply. "Move! Now!"
They sprinted down the hall as the walls **closed in**, the corridor seemingly shifting around them. John kept his eyes ahead, his heart pounding. The exit had to be close.
A door at the far end of the hallway **burst open**, revealing a **stairwell leading upward**. Without hesitation, they bolted for it, slamming the door shut behind them just as a **massive, clawed hand** tore through the wall where they had just been standing.
John caught his breath, gripping the railing. "I take it back. This is worse than Louisiana."
Sebastian glanced at him, then back down the stairs where the unnatural darkness swirled below. "Let's get topside before this place decides to kill us for real."
They started their ascent, unaware that something was **watching them from above.**
The stairwell twisted unnaturally as John and Sebastian ascended, each step echoing into the distorted abyss below. The further they climbed, the more the air thickened, pressing against them like an invisible force.
Sebastian wiped sweat from his brow. "Nothing in this place makes sense. Feels like the walls are closing in."
John grunted. "Because they probably are. Keep moving."
As they reached the top of the stairs, the door before them **warped**, its surface shifting like liquid before solidifying again. Sebastian hesitated for only a moment before pushing it open, revealing a **large, blood-streaked operating room**. Flickering lights barely illuminated the surgical tables lined with rotting corpses.
John scanned the room. "I don't like this."
Sebastian moved cautiously, his gun drawn. "Stay sharp. There's always something waiting."
The distorted laughter from before echoed through the room, growing louder. The air turned **frigid**, and the shadows cast by the dim lights **elongated unnaturally**.
Then, a familiar voice whispered from the darkness. **"Detective…"**
Sebastian froze. The voice slithered through the air, surrounding them from every direction.
John narrowed his eyes. "Who the hell was that?"
Sebastian's grip on his gun tightened. "No clue. But whatever that thing is, it's playing with us."
Before John could question him further, a **massive mirror** at the far end of the room **shattered outward**, sending shards flying in every direction. From the fragmented glass, a **figure in a flowing white cloak emerged**, his **face obscured by a mask**.
Sebastian took a step back, his breath hitching. "Who the hell is that?"
John barely had time to process the name before the temperature **plummeted** and the walls **began to peel away**, revealing a vast, endless void beyond.
Ruvik lifted a hand, and in an instant, the floor **collapsed beneath them**, sending both men **plunging into darkness**.
John and Sebastian hit the ground hard, landing in a decayed hospital hallway, its once-sterile walls now cracked and dripping with black sludge. The overhead lights flickered erratically, casting distorted shadows across the floor.
John groaned, pushing himself up. "I'm getting real tired of falling."
Sebastian winced as he stood, his eyes scanning their surroundings. "Where the hell are we now?"
A deep rumbling echoed through the hall, and the ground beneath them began to shake violently. The walls split apart, revealing the twisted, shifting remains of Beacon Mental Hospital's main lobby.
In the distance, the front doors stood open, bright light spilling in from the outside.
John's heart pounded. "That's our way out!"
Sebastian didn't need to be told twice. They bolted toward the exit, dodging collapsing debris as the entire building crumbled around them. Behind them, Ruvik's laughter echoed, a mocking sound that sent chills down their spines.
Just as they reached the threshold, the entire floor gave way, forcing them to leap through the entrance. They hit the pavement outside, rolling onto the cracked asphalt of the hospital's parking lot.
The night air was cool against their skin. For the first time since the nightmare began, they could breathe.
Sebastian sat up, panting. "We made it…"
John lay on his back, staring up at the sky. "Don't jinx it."
The sound of an engine revving caught their attention. Sebastian turned his head to see an ambulance parked nearby, its lights still flashing.
"Come on, that's our ride!"
Both men pushed themselves up and stumbled toward the vehicle. As they reached the back doors, Sebastian yanked them open, revealing Juli Kidman behind the wheel.
"Get in!" she shouted.
Without hesitation, John and Sebastian climbed inside, and the moment they did, Kidman slammed the gas, peeling out of the hospital grounds just as Beacon began collapsing behind them.
The ambulance sped down the rain-slicked streets, tires screeching against the pavement. John and Sebastian braced themselves in the back, the vehicle rocking violently with every turn. Through the rear window, they could see the remains of **Beacon Mental Hospital** collapsing in on itself, swallowed by a force beyond comprehension.
Sebastian exhaled sharply. "We actually made it."
John, still catching his breath, gave a wary glance to **Juli Kidman**, who kept her focus on the road. "I don't suppose you want to tell us what the hell just happened back there?"
Kidman didn't look back. "Not now. We need to put as much distance between us and Beacon as possible."
Sebastian frowned. "Kidman, what the hell is going on? You knew more about this than you let on."
Kidman remained silent for a long moment before gripping the wheel tighter. "We're not safe yet."
Before either man could press her further, a low groan came from the other side of the ambulance. John turned his head, his instincts kicking in. **Doctor Marcelo Jimenez** was slumped against the side, barely conscious, his body trembling.
Sebastian moved toward him. "Doctor Jimenez? Can you hear me?"
Jimenez's eyelids fluttered, his breathing ragged. "He's… still here. You don't understand…"
John's eyes narrowed. "Who's still here?"
Before Jimenez could answer, the ambulance **jerked violently**, the tires **squealing** as the entire vehicle **tilted to one side**. The sound of **metal tearing** filled the air as the back doors **ripped open**, exposing them to the outside world.
Sebastian barely had time to react before the ambulance **flipped**, sending them all into a chaotic spin. The world became a blur of flashing lights, shattering glass, and the deafening crunch of steel against concrete.
John felt himself **thrown sideways**, his body slamming against the walls of the ambulance before everything went **black**.
The nightmare wasn't over.
It was only beginning.
A shrill ringing filled John's ears as he slowly regained consciousness. His vision was blurry, the world around him tilting and spinning as he tried to push himself upright. Blood dripped from a gash on his forehead, his body aching from the violent crash.
The ambulance was on its side, smoke billowing from the wreckage. The sirens had long since gone silent, replaced by the distant sound of crackling flames and the hum of something unnatural in the air.
Sebastian groaned from a few feet away, struggling to free himself from the twisted remains of a stretcher. "John… you still breathing?"
John coughed, spitting out dust. "Barely. You?"
"I'll live," Sebastian muttered, wincing as he pulled himself free. His eyes darted around the wreckage. "Where's Kidman? And Jimenez?"
John turned his head, spotting the doctor's limp form partially buried under debris. His breath hitched. "Shit."
He scrambled over, ignoring the pain in his limbs, and checked for a pulse. Sebastian hovered behind him, tense.
"He's gone," John said grimly.
Sebastian ran a hand through his hair, frustration written all over his face. "Damn it… we needed answers."
A sudden *creak* made them both snap their heads toward the ruined front of the ambulance. The door was hanging off its hinges, and beyond it, the city was… wrong.
Buildings were **tilted at impossible angles**, streets were **cracked and torn apart**, and in the distance, **Beacon Mental Hospital still loomed**, despite the fact that it had collapsed.
John's blood ran cold. "Tell me I'm seeing things."
Sebastian exhaled slowly, gripping his gun tighter. "No… you're not. We're still in it."
A deep, inhuman growl echoed through the broken streets, sending a shiver down their spines.
John clenched his fists. "Then we better start moving."
John and Sebastian stepped cautiously out of the wrecked ambulance, the eerie hum in the air making their skin crawl. The city was in ruins. Buildings leaned at impossible angles, streets were cracked and uneven, and in the distance, Beacon Mental Hospital loomed impossibly, as if it had never collapsed.
Sebastian exhaled sharply, gripping his gun. "We're still in it. This nightmare isn't over."
John scanned their surroundings, fists clenched. His eyes landed on something half-buried in the dirt near a crumbling sidewalk—a **Luger**, old but still intact, lying next to the skeletal remains of its previous owner. He knelt down, brushing away the grime before picking it up and checking the cylinder. Two rounds left.
He sighed. "Better than nothing."
Sebastian shot him a look before his own eyes landed on something in the gutter—a **Colt Official Police revolver**, its frame scratched but still serviceable. He picked it up, checking the cylinder. "Looks like I got lucky too. Just hope we don't need to use these right away."
John huffed. "Yeah, well, knowing our luck—"
A low, guttural growl echoed from the twisted streets.
A low, guttural growl echoed from the twisted streets. Both men turned sharply as a **shambling figure** emerged from the rubble—a humanoid creature with its flesh hanging in tattered strips, eyes glowing with a malevolent light.
Sebastian didn't hesitate. He raised his pistol and fired. The bullet struck its target, but the creature barely flinched, letting out an inhuman screech before **lunging toward them**.
"MOVE!" John shouted, grabbing Sebastian's arm and pulling him back as more figures **crawled from the wreckage**, their grotesque forms illuminated by the flickering streetlights.
Sebastian grit his teeth. "There's too many—we need to find cover!"
They sprinted down a partially collapsed street, dodging debris and the relentless creatures pursuing them. Up ahead, a neon sign flickered erratically above a battered diner.
John pointed. "There! Inside!"
They barreled through the shattered glass doors, quickly barricading them with overturned tables and chairs. The creatures outside **slammed against the glass**, their distorted faces pressing against the surface as they clawed hungrily at the entrance.
Sebastian panted, reloading his pistol. "We can't stay here forever."
John glanced around the darkened diner, spotting a rusted **trapdoor** behind the counter. "Then we don't."
Sebastian followed his gaze, nodding. "Let's move before they break through."
With the sounds of the monsters pounding on the glass growing louder, the two men hurried toward the trapdoor, ready to descend deeper into the unknown.
John yanked open the rusted trapdoor, the hinges groaning in protest. A **dark basement stairwell** stretched below them, the air thick with dust and decay. Sebastian wasted no time, dropping in first with his revolver raised, scanning the shadows. John followed, shutting the trapdoor behind them just as the creatures outside **shattered the diner's front glass**.
The basement was cramped, filled with old storage shelves and broken furniture. A **faint light** flickered at the far end, illuminating a narrow passage leading deeper underground.
Sebastian wiped sweat from his brow. "We need to keep moving. If those things find another way in, we're trapped."
John nodded, gripping his Luger. "Yeah, because that's exactly what we need—less exits."
They pushed forward, stepping carefully over debris. The passage narrowed, the air growing colder. A faint *dripping* echoed ahead, along with a distant, rhythmic **thumping**—like something heavy **slamming against metal**.
Sebastian motioned for silence, his body tense. "You hear that?"
John nodded slowly. "Yeah. And I'm pretty sure we don't wanna meet whatever's making that noise."
They crept forward until the passage **opened into a large maintenance room**. Rusted pipes ran along the ceiling, leaking water onto the cracked concrete floor. A row of **bloodstained lockers** lined the far wall, and in the center of the room stood a **massive steel door**, dented from the outside—as if something had been trying to break through.
Sebastian exhaled. "This just keeps getting better."
John moved toward the lockers, checking them for supplies. As he **pulled one open**, a **corpse tumbled out**, hitting the floor with a sickening *thud*. Both men froze as the **thumping behind the steel door stopped.**
The silence was suffocating.
Then, the **metal groaned**.
Sebastian took a step back. "John… we need to move. Now."
Before John could respond, the **steel door exploded outward**, sending shards of metal flying. A **hulking monstrosity** stepped through, its **stitched-together flesh** pulsating, multiple arms twitching as it let out a guttural **roar**.
John barely had time to react before the creature **charged straight for them.**
John barely had time to dive out of the way as the monstrous creature lunged forward, **slamming** into the wall with bone-shattering force. The concrete cracked under the impact, sending dust and debris into the air.
Sebastian rolled to the side, raising his revolver and **firing two shots** into the creature's massive chest. The bullets **hit**, but the thing barely flinched—only letting out a grotesque gurgling noise as its many arms **twitched violently**.
"It's not going down easy!" Sebastian shouted.
John gritted his teeth, raising his Luger and aiming for the **head**. He squeezed the trigger, and the bullet **punched through** one of the creature's milky white eyes, causing it to **stagger backward, screeching in pain**.
"Eyes! Aim for the eyes!" John barked.
Sebastian adjusted his aim, **firing again**, this time hitting another **swollen, yellowed eyeball** on the creature's shoulder. The monster **reeled**, thrashing wildly as blood and some kind of thick, black fluid oozed from the wound.
With a guttural growl, the creature recovered and **charged again**, swinging one of its grotesque **oversized arms**. John barely managed to duck, feeling the wind of the massive strike pass over his head as it **smashed into a locker**, bending the metal like paper.
"We need to finish this now!" Sebastian called.
John's eyes darted around the room, landing on a series of **rusted gas pipes** running along the ceiling. "Sebastian! The pipes!"
Sebastian followed his gaze, understanding instantly. Without hesitation, he **fired at the overhead pipes**, causing them to burst open. A **hiss of pressurized gas** filled the room, spreading rapidly.
John grinned grimly. "Time to light it up."
He aimed carefully and **fired a round into the ground**, where sparks ignited the leaking gas.
*BOOM!*
The explosion **rocked the entire basement**, flames **engulfing the creature** as it let out an **unearthly, agonized screech**. Its body **convulsed**, the multiple arms twitching as the fire **consumed its flesh**.
Sebastian grabbed John by the shoulder. "Go! Now!"
The two men **bolted toward the exit**, barely dodging falling debris as the fire spread through the maintenance room. They **rushed up a crumbling staircase**, emerging into what remained of the diner's back alley.
John coughed, wiping soot from his face. "Tell me that thing isn't following us."
Sebastian kept his revolver raised, scanning the burning wreckage behind them. **Silence.**
For now, they were safe.
Sebastian exhaled. "We need to keep moving. If that was just the beginning… I don't want to see what's next."
John nodded. "Then let's get the hell out of here."
John and Sebastian emerged from the back alley, stepping onto the **ruined streets of the city**. The air was thick with smoke, fires burned in the distance, and the buildings around them **shifted unnaturally**, as if they were breathing.
Sebastian wiped soot from his face, scanning the devastation. "What the hell happened here?"
John reloaded his Luger. "Same thing that happened to us back there. Reality's coming apart at the seams."
A distant **siren wailed**, but it was distorted, as if coming from underwater. The two men pressed forward, moving carefully between overturned cars and broken streetlights.
Sebastian paused, spotting something up ahead—a **wrecked police cruiser** with its lights still flashing. He hurried over, hoping to find a working radio, but as he neared the vehicle, he stopped in his tracks.
Inside, the officer slumped against the window was **missing his face**, his skin peeled away in jagged strips. Blood coated the dashboard, and something **moved in the backseat**.
John stepped beside him. "What is it?"
Before Sebastian could answer, the **rear door burst open**, and a **grotesque, twitching figure** lunged out. Its **skin was stretched too tight**, its eyes hollow, and its **jaw unhinged like a snake's** as it let out a shrill **screech**.
Sebastian fired first, his revolver **blasting a hole** in the creature's chest, but it barely **staggered** before **rushing at them again**.
John cursed, raising his Luger and firing **two quick shots**, hitting the creature in the head. It jerked violently before **collapsing onto the pavement**.
Sebastian exhaled, checking his ammo. "I'm already sick of these things."
John kicked the creature once to make sure it was dead before nodding toward the police car. "Anything useful in there?"
Sebastian reached inside, grabbing a **half-empty box of .38 rounds** and a **police radio**. He clicked it on, but only **static** came through.
Then, a faint voice cut through the noise.
**"…survivors… safehouse… coordinates…"**
Sebastian and John exchanged a look.
John adjusted his grip on his pistol. "Looks like we've got a destination."
Sebastian nodded. "Then let's move."
John and Sebastian moved swiftly through the twisted streets, their footsteps muffled by the eerie silence that had settled over the ruined city. The distant sirens had faded, replaced by the unsettling hum of something unnatural lurking just beyond their sight.
Sebastian kept glancing at the police radio in his hand, adjusting the frequency dial in hopes of catching a clearer transmission. The static remained relentless, but the faint voice from earlier still echoed in his mind.
"Safehouse… coordinates… survivors…"
John adjusted his grip on his Luger, scanning the crumbling buildings around them. His eyes landed on something near a fallen streetlamp—an old **hatchet**, its blade rusted but still sharp enough to be useful. He picked it up, testing the weight. "Could come in handy."
Sebastian, a few steps ahead, knelt beside an overturned military supply crate. He pried it open and pulled out an **M9 bayonet**, its blade still gleaming despite the chaos around them. "Well, looks like we're both getting an upgrade." "We need to find high ground. If there's a signal out there, we might get a better read from above."
Sebastian nodded. "Agreed. That fire escape over there—should give us a good vantage point."
The two men made their way toward a nearby apartment complex. The once-pristine facade was now scarred with claw marks and deep cracks, as if something had **crawled** over it. The front door hung loosely on its hinges, swaying slightly with an unseen force.
John tested the base of the fire escape ladder, making sure it would hold their weight. He motioned for Sebastian to follow before pulling himself up, climbing swiftly to the second floor landing. Sebastian followed close behind, gripping the railing tightly.
As they reached the rooftop, John pulled out a pair of compact binoculars and scanned the landscape. The city was in complete disarray—cars overturned, streets cracked open, and structures **shifting unnaturally**, as if trapped between dimensions.
Sebastian pressed the radio button again. "This is Detective Castellanos. If anyone is receiving this transmission, respond. We need a location on the safehouse. Repeat—any survivors, respond."
For a moment, only static.
Then—
**"…You're being watched…"**
John and Sebastian exchanged tense glances before both instinctively ducked low behind the rooftop's raised barrier. John pulled his Luger close, scanning their surroundings.
Sebastian whispered, "That was **not** what I was hoping to hear."
John smirked slightly despite the tension. "Yeah? Well, I don't think they're taking requests."
Sebastian glanced at him, then back at the street below. "Back in the diner, you said this place is worse than Louisiana. What happened there?"
John sighed, adjusting the strap on his holster. "Long story. But since we've got a bit of time before all hell breaks loose, I'll give you the short version."
Sebastian kept his eyes on the shifting darkness below but listened closely as John continued.
"It started with a missing persons case. A guy named Ethan Winters went looking for his wife. Poor bastard found her, but she was… different. Something had changed her. That's when things got ugly. The family living in that house—they weren't normal. Twisted, violent, and damn near unkillable."
Sebastian frowned. "You're talking about the Bakers, right? I heard about that case. The whole thing was covered up pretty fast."
John chuckled dryly. "Yeah, well, you wouldn't believe half of what really went down. The Bakers—Jack, Marguerite, Lucas—they weren't human anymore. The mold had turned them into something else, something unstoppable. Jack could take a shotgun blast to the face and get right back up like it was nothing. I saw him shake off things that should've killed a man ten times over. Marguerite? She had some kind of sick connection with the insects—hives growing inside of her. And Lucas, well… let's just say he enjoyed the game a little too much."
Sebastian frowned. "Jesus. And the guy who went looking for his wife?"
John nodded. "Ethan Winters. Guy didn't know what he was walking into, but he adapted fast. Took everything that house threw at him and came out the other side. The man was desperate, sure, but he wasn't weak. We fought together, tried to survive long enough to get out of that hellhole. But even when we thought we had won, it wasn't over. That little girl, Eveline… she was the real nightmare. She could control the mold, get inside your head, make you see things that weren't there. She turned the whole damn estate into a twisted illusion."
Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "And yet, you think this is worse?"
John gestured toward the distorted city around them. "At least in Louisiana, things followed some kind of logic. A messed-up, nightmare logic, sure—but this? This place feels like it's rewriting itself every second. Like reality's hanging by a thread."
Sebastian nodded, gripping his new bayonet tightly. "Sounds like the kind of horror story I'd expect out of an old case file, not real life. But if you made it through that, you'll make it through this too."
John smirked. "Let's hope you're right."
A rustling noise echoed from the alleyway below. Shadows shifted, distorting unnaturally against the cracked pavement.
Then—
A **figure** emerged.
Its body was **warped**, limbs elongated, face obscured by shifting darkness. It moved with an **unnatural twitch**, jerking forward in erratic motions as if struggling to maintain form.
Sebastian gritted his teeth. "Damn it. We're running out of time."
John pulled back the slide on his pistol, his eyes locked onto the shifting horror below. "Then let's make a move before we're part of the scenery."
Sebastian clicked the radio once more. "Whoever sent that transmission—if you can hear us, we're heading your way. Give us something to go on."
The radio crackled.
**"…Northwest… warehouse district… hurry…"**
John didn't hesitate. "We've got our heading. Time to go."
Sebastian took one last look at the grotesque figure below before following John down the fire escape. Whatever nightmare awaited them in the warehouse district, it was better than staying out in the open.
As they disappeared into the shadows, the creature below slowly lifted its head—
And **smiled**.
John and Sebastian moved swiftly through the abandoned streets, sticking to the shadows as they made their way toward the **warehouse district**. The city's unnatural distortions grew worse the deeper they went—**buildings bent at impossible angles**, streets ended abruptly in bottomless voids, and the air itself shimmered as if reality was struggling to hold itself together.
Sebastian gritted his teeth. "This place is falling apart. Whatever's happening, we need to move fast."
John nodded, gripping his Luger tightly. "I just hope that safehouse isn't another deathtrap."
As they turned a corner, the distant sound of **gunfire** caught their attention. They exchanged a quick glance before breaking into a sprint.
Ahead, a **fenced-off loading dock** came into view, its floodlights flickering erratically. The area was eerily quiet, the ground littered with **twisted corpses**, their bodies mangled beyond recognition. The faint echoes of **distant growls and shuffling footsteps** signaled that whatever did this wasn't far away.
Sebastian didn't hesitate. He pulled out his revolver and fired at the nearest corpse, making sure it wasn't about to lurch back to life. The gunshot echoed through the loading dock, sending fresh tension through the air. "We're not alone here."
John sprinted forward, raising his Luger and scanning the area. Movement flickered near the edge of the light, **shapes shifting unnaturally in the darkness**. "We need to move. Now."
John glanced toward an **overturned military truck**, where bloodstained crates were stacked haphazardly. Something moved behind it—a **figure**, twitching and distorted. But as it stepped into the light, John realized it wasn't human anymore.
John gritted his teeth, swinging his hatchet into the skull of a lunging monster before kicking its twitching body aside. "No survivors left to save… just more of those things."
Sebastian reloaded quickly. "We need to get inside that warehouse! Barricade the doors before more of these things show up!"
Sebastian nodded toward a nearby **warehouse door**, partially open. "That's our way in. If we can barricade it, we might have a fighting chance."
John and Sebastian slipped through the loading bay doors, quickly dragging a heavy crate in front to block the entrance. **The metal groaned under the weight of unseen forces outside.**
For a moment, silence.
John exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Well… that could've gone worse."
Sebastian turned toward John, wiping sweat from his brow. "Whatever happened here, it was brutal. We need to keep moving before more of them show up."
Sebastian exhaled, glancing around the dimly lit warehouse interior. "This place isn't much better, but at least it's shelter."
John checked his ammo. "Let's hope it stays that way."
John and Sebastian barely had time to breathe before the air around them **shifted unnaturally**. The warehouse walls seemed to stretch and twist, the flickering lights casting long, **unnatural shadows** that moved on their own. The silence wasn't comforting—it was suffocating.
Sebastian exhaled sharply. "It's happening again."
John gripped his Luger tightly, scanning the warehouse. "Define 'it.'"
Before Sebastian could answer, the **entire building rumbled**, a deep, guttural groan echoing through the metal structure. The warehouse **flickered** like a dying image on a TV screen. When it stabilized, the stacks of crates and industrial shelving had **shifted**, as if the room had rearranged itself.
John clenched his jaw. "Yeah. That's not normal."
A sudden, **high-pitched shriek** pierced the air. Sebastian barely had time to react before something **sprinted out of the darkness**—a grotesque, contorted figure, its **form twitching and shimmering**, barely visible except for the vague outline of **clawed hands and hollow, glowing eyes**.
Sebastian shoved John aside as the creature lunged, its attack barely missing them. "Move! They're invisible!"
John's eyes widened. "Oh, that's just fantastic!"
The creature let out another **guttural hiss**, its distorted form **flickering in and out of existence** as it circled them. Sebastian fired **blindly**, his bullets sparking off metal shelves as the thing **darted between the shifting shadows**.
John reached into his belt and pulled out a **small pouch of crushed chalk**, tossing it into the air. The fine dust **coated the creature's outline**, making its hideous form partially visible.
"Got you now, you son of a—!" John raised his Luger and fired, the bullets **tearing through its distorted mass**. The creature **let out a piercing shriek**, collapsing to the ground, twitching violently before **melting into a black, tar-like substance**.
Sebastian reloaded quickly, his grip on his revolver tight. "Nice trick. Got any more?"
John shook his head. "Fresh out. We need to get out of this warehouse before more show up."
The air **shifted again**, and the distant sound of **heavy footsteps** reverberated through the walls.
Sebastian narrowed his eyes. "We're not alone."
John exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "We never are."
Without warning, the warehouse **shuddered violently**, and the air around them **warped**. The walls twisted, **peeling away like paper**, revealing the familiar **cold, sterile hallways of Beacon Mental Hospital**.
Sebastian clenched his jaw. "Damn it. We're back again."
John took a cautious step forward, glancing at the flickering overhead lights. "This place just won't let us go, will it?"
Before Sebastian could respond, a distant **metallic crash** echoed down the corridor. Both men raised their weapons, tense.
A faint, ghostly voice **whispered through the halls**. **"You cannot escape."**
Sebastian gritted his teeth, his breath hitching. "What the hell is that?"
The corridor stretched **unnaturally long**, its walls **rippling like water**. Suddenly, the overhead lights **burst**, plunging them into near darkness. A **familiar silhouette** appeared at the far end of the hall—a tall, pale figure with a flowing white cloak.
Sebastian hissed, stepping back. "That thing... it's not normal."
John, gripping his Luger tightly, whispered, "And I take it bullets don't do much to that guy?"
Sebastian didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed John's arm. "Run. Now."
Without hesitation, both men **bolted down the shifting hallway**, the distant figure **gliding toward them, unhindered by space or time**. The walls around them **stretched and twisted**, warping reality itself as **Ruvik's presence consumed everything**.
Ahead, a **metal door slammed shut**, cutting off their escape route. A nearby **side passage flickered into existence**, an eerie red glow emanating from within.
John cursed. "We don't have a choice, do we?"
Sebastian shook his head. "Not if we want to live."
They rushed into the side passage, their footsteps echoing against the shifting walls. The air grew heavier, thick with the scent of decay. As they turned a corner, they spotted a familiar figure—Joseph Oda—submerged in a dilapidated, water-stained bathtub, his body twitching slightly as if struggling against an unseen force. The room around him was dimly lit, its tiles cracked and peeling, water dripping from rusted pipes. A faint mist hung in the air, carrying the stench of mildew and decay.
Sebastian's eyes widened. "Joseph! Hang on!"
Joseph gasped, his eyes snapping open as he lurched upright, coughing violently. "Sebastian… John? What the hell… where am I?"
John gave a quick nod, stepping forward cautiously. "Long story. You okay? You were out cold in that… thing."
"I'll live," Joseph muttered, adjusting his grip on his sidearm. "But we need to keep moving. This place is warping worse than before."
John's gaze flickered to a nearby weapons cache, half-buried in debris. He pulled out a pump-action shotgun, checking its shells. "Well, at least we're not empty-handed."
Sebastian reached into a nearby locker and pulled out a Kar98 rifle, inspecting the bolt-action mechanism before slinging it over his shoulder. "We're going to need these."
Sebastian nodded. "Then let's go. If we're seeing this, then Kidman's not far… and neither is whatever put Joseph in that tub."