Billy and the trio of janitors made their way through the chaotic cafeteria, stepping over upturned tables and chairs scattered across the tile floor stained with blood. Leftover food rotted on broken dishes amidst the aftermath of some violent event. The employees gripped mops and brooms like weapons, eyes darting warily.

"So what exactly is this place?" Billy asked, scanning the carnage.

"They didn't tell us much, just that it's kind of like a military base and we weren't supposed to say anything about it," Sam said nervously, mop handle trembling in his sweaty hands.

Danny chimed in, "They made us sign non-disclosure agreements and told us if we even talked to our family they would find out."

"I heard about a guy in tech who talked in a bar about what they were doing here and disappeared," Sam whispered.

George scoffed dismissively, "Bullshit."

"That's right man, his name was Steven, or Stephen? Or was it Esteban?" Sam murmured, straining to remember the ill-fated man's name.

Billy's eyes narrowed as he scanned the walls, "Do you know where the armory is in this place? It's not marked on the maps."

Danny shook his head, "They're very secretive in this place, most of them don't know what the guy next door is working on."

"We're new yet, we don't quite know our way around. This place is bigger than it looks," Sam added.

George leaned on his broom handle, "All the staff is practically new, there was a wave of layoffs and we came in along with a lot of others."

Billy paused, staring intently at the janitors. "On a train?" he asked pointedly.

Danny's eyes widened in surprise. "Yes, how do you know?"

"Let's just say I had the same trip you did," Billy replied cryptically.

Billy pushed open the door to the cafeteria kitchen, where the chaos intensified. Blood was splattered up the walls in macabre patterns. Shattered glass, broken pots and pans littered the floorboards. The storeroom door stood half-open, pure darkness emanating from within.

"Where is everybody?" Sam whispered nervously.

"Do you want to meet someone?" Danny quipped, attempting to mask his own unease.

"I mean the bodies, I see blood, but there's no.... people," Sam clarified, gesturing at the abattoir.

Billy grabbed a thin, long knife from the sink, testing its edge. "Better than an empty gun, I guess," he muttered pragmatically. "You guys gonna fight with brooms?"

Sam and Danny exchanged uneasy glances before selecting knives from a butcher block. George chose a menacing cleaver.

"That's the door to the warehouse," Danny said, pointing with his knife towards the ominous doorway.

The door frame was painted with bloody handprints. Beneath the door, a thick pool of clotted gore was visible. Billy tightened his grip on the knife and reached for the handle.

"Ready or not..." he said tersely, yanking open the door.

Pure darkness greeted them. The room was utterly lightless, with no visible walls or dimensions. Billy peered inside but could not even gauge its depth.

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"I don't suppose any of you are smokers?" Billy asked.

"Why, do you want to start smoking now?" Sam joked, trying to mask his fear.

"He's asking for a lighter, Sam," Danny explained, rolling his eyes.

"Oh," Sam murmured, chagrined.

George craned his neck to see inside the void. "Oh, dear Lord," he gasped.

"Guys...?" Sam said uneasily, pointing at the warehouse floor.

As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they could see the first few inches of floor were covered in thick cobwebs.

"Spider webs?" Billy asked, repulsed.

"I don't like this, man. I have a phobia of them bugs," Danny said anxiously, gripping his knife tighter.

Sam crouched down, squinting at the webs. George shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"I'm more worried about the dark. I can't see shit," George complained irritably.

"Are you sure it's not the cataracts?" Danny joked nervously.

Sam slowly brought the tip of his knife towards the cobwebs, mesmerized. As the blade made contact, something inside the lightless warehouse snapped to life. Spindly legs flashed out and snatched Sam into the darkness. Neither Sam nor the thing that took him made a sound. Danny and George gasped in shock. Billy slammed the door shut, resting his palm against it.

"That is what's going on here," he said.

Danny's face contorted in anger and disbelief as he shouted at George, "What the fuck was that? He took Sam, we gotta help him!"

George held up his hands in a placating gesture as he responded with forced calmness, "How? You gonna stab that thing to death? Sam's gone, deal with it."

Defeated, Danny slumped against the kitchen counter, gripping the edges for support as he struggled to accept the harsh truth of their situation. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the mental image of poor Sam being dragged away by that monstrous creature.

After a few moments of pained silence, Danny lifted his head and pleaded "What do you mean, accept it? I can't be such a cold asshole, he was our friend."

"He was a co-worker Daniel, it sucks, but it is what it is," George replied bluntly, the coldness in his tone cutting through Danny like a knife.

Anger and desperation flared up in Danny again as he spat out, "Fuck you!"

Unfazed, George jerked his thumb over his shoulder and said, "Go help him Captain America, the door is there."

Danny's furious gaze drifted to the door leading out into the dark hallway. He contemplated George's challenge, turning the knife over in his hands. Could he really go out there alone? His hand trembled as he reached for the door knob, gripping it tightly. But the fire of courage in him quickly sputtered out and died. Overwhelmed by fear and doubt, he released the knob and sank to his knees.

"Shit. Sam," he choked out, on the verge of tears.

George's voice softened as he said, "It's okay son, we'll just...we'll be fine."

The sound of glass clinking made Danny lift his head. Billy was lining up an array of liquor bottles on the counter, scrutinizing the labels. "If you're done in there, I need a hand with this," Billy called out.

Danny watched as Billy grabbed every bottle of hard liquor he could find. "Read the labels and separate all drinks with at least 90% alcohol. Vodka, Absinthe whatever," Billy instructed.

"Huh, I don't need to read labels for that," George scoffed as he picked out a bottle of clear liquid. "Uff, 'Golden Grain 190' straight from Missouri. 95% pure alcohol. This stuff gets horses drunk."

Billy's face fell as he examined another bottle. "I'm out of luck here, this isn't flammable enough, it won't burn."

Springing to action, Danny scrounged up some dish towels and brought them over. "I think we have some isopropyl alcohol in the cleanup room, that'll burn," he suggested hopefully.

George nodded. "I'll go with him, I know where to look."

"Sure, I'll get everything ready, hurry up," Billy urged them.

Danny and George headed to the supply closet, shifting boxes around as they searched for the isopropyl alcohol. Danny glanced over at George as he rummaged through the shelves. "Are you sure you're going to go along with this guy's plan?" he asked skeptically.

"Not at all, but if he made it this far with that stuff I don't think we have a choice," George replied pragmatically.

Danny furrowed his brow. "Isn't it weird that he's the only one alive? He's not affected by losing his buddies."

George paused his search to look at Danny. "That guy's not special forces, Danny," he said meaningfully.

Danny's eyes widened. "Huh? What do you mean?"

"Didn't you see the way he was dressed? What kind of soldier is on duty in jeans and a muscle shirt? Something smells funny," George explained in a hushed voice.

Danny nodded slowly as understanding dawned on him. "But what do we do then?"

"Play along as long as it's beneficial to us, but let's not let our guard down for a second," George advised.

"Got it," Danny acknowledged resolutely.

"Do you have the alcohol?" George asked.

Danny held up the bottle. "Yes."

"Let's go then," George said, heading out the door.