A strong, throbbing feeling resounds in Ambrose’s mind. Her heart beats rapidly, and the world seems to spin around her. It takes some time for Ambrose to adjust her mental state. The darkness makes her feel claustrophobic, the empty, beady stare of the bear seared into her mind. Her torch shines its dim light into the debris, painting shadowy figures around her.
Ambrose grips her spear tight. Too tight, almost painfully as she clenches it with all of her might. In her hyper-aware state she wants to lash out at everything, but forces herself to breathe in and out as she stays frozen in place. She’s spent a lifetime fighting, but this…she’s never faced something she doesn’t understand. This fear is something primal, that eats at the depths of her sanity. It’s all she can do to keep it together.
Still, time passes regardless, and slowly her breathing steadies and her eyes refocus. With one last breath Ambrose unclenches her tight grip on her spear and raises it, goring what remains of the bear’s guts as she rips it apart. It’s cathartic, almost a relief, as some sense of control returns to her heart. She drops the wires still in her hand, letting it clatter against the ground as she moves her torch across the debris.
Ambrose focuses on occupying her mind as she scours the rest of the metal junk pile for a way through. As she pulls away some broken off metal, she finds a sheared-off desk with a draw cut through. The piece of paper remaining inside is also cut away, only a third of it remaining as Ambrose picks it up.
Log 18-13
I fear for our lives. My test was confirmed. The entity we’ve been studying has never changed, only convinced us it was a new specimen each time. We’ve been studying it not realising it was, in turn, studying us. It doesn’t know I’ve discovered it yet. I think I know what it wants, and the result won’t—-
Another loud crash reverberates through the metal, coming from the other side. It’s close this time, startling Ambrose as she looks up. Smaller noises continue this time from the other side, barely entering Ambrose’s ears. She glances back down but the words are cut off, the remaining part of the log missing.
She folds up the paper and tucks it into her belt, regretting leaving the other log behind. Turning her gaze back to the pile of metal Ambrose continues searching, and discovers a shimmer of light coming out from a part of the debris. Walking towards it Ambrose finds a narrow tunnel with the light coming from the other side. She squeezes herself into the tiny space and falls out of the end in a heap.
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Flipping herself back up, she steadies her spear as she looks around herself. A number of lights blink on and off across the roof above her, their dim light softly illuminating the passage. Ambrose notices numerous claw marks scraped across the walls and floor, and many other markings she’s unable to decipher. Before she can take a closer look, a heavy thunk resounds from one of the walls.
Turning her spear towards it, she finds a small dent in the wall. The room is silent for a moment, before an even heavier thunk echoes out as the dent grows larger. A mix of smaller sounds pass through her ears, but they’re too quiet to decipher. Thunk. The dent enlargens, following another thunk that forms a dent twice the size. The next one twists the metal, groaning as it starts to come away.
Then with the heavy roar of a giant beast crying out, the wall is completely smashed through and comes crashing into the floor before it. With wide eyes Ambrose stares at the creature that comes out. A tiny, hunched over bipedal creature with limbs so thin they’d seem to break at the slightest touch, and a head elongated into a strange mask-like shape. Its face is empty save for two glossy, pitch black eyes stuck to them. As it crashes to the ground alongside the wall, Ambrose notices its legs are crushed and rent in an unnatural way.
A strange clicking sound escapes from its mouth as it desperately drags itself across the floor with its arms. Each painful slide bleeds a black liquid into the metal under it, creating long streaks on the ground. Ambrose raises her spear, watching it carefully as it crawls away. And then a scream rings out from where the wall came away, half-crazed and completely wild.
A blurred figure suddenly appears in the passageway as it jumps onto the creature. Its clicking grows more rapid, a desperate plea seeming to escape its mouth as the figure crashes into its body.
Ambrose finally makes it, no she, out clearly, a mess of red hair covering her face as she raises a wrench in her hand. She brings it down on the creature’s mask, laughing maniacally the whole time. Once, twice, thrice, she continues without reserve as a base type of glee fills each strike. She starts to speak, and after a moment the words rearrange themselves in Ambrose’s ears.
“-ou. Fucking. Shit. Die. For. Once. In. Your. Motherless. Life.” The wrench comes down again, and a large crack splinters across the creature’s face. Its clicking goes silent, and a vicious grin fills the woman’s face as she raises her wrench. One final smack, and the face completely breaks apart. Underneath it is nothing. Only an empty, hollow inside as the final parts of its strange blood bleeds out and onto the ground.
The woman breathes heavily, panting as she kneels over the creature with her head raised. Ambrose watches quietly, her spear raised, but doesn’t move. They remain locked in their positions as the silence grows thicker, until suddenly the woman turns her eyes to Ambrose. A strangeness flickers in them as she observes Ambrose. Then, her mouth begins to widen, and her manic grin returns.
“Show me your eyes.” She says as she licks her lips, leaving Ambrose at a loss.