"Open the bloody door!” The voice outside roared, each thunderous impact shaking the wood as if demanding to be let in.
A heavy silence enveloped the hall, its occupants frozen in a collective, anxious breath. The pounding continued, a grim reminder of the threats waiting just beyond their sanctuary.
“Open the bloody door!” The voice boomed again, tinged with a growing desperation that cut through the silence.
“Oi, Warren? Is that you?” Emmanuel called out, stepping forward from the cluster of wide-eyed faces. His voice held a mix of concern and disbelief.
“Emmanuel? Thank God it’s you! Let me in, for the love of—You’re all in danger!” The voice was ragged, charged with an urgency that sent shivers down Emmanuel’s spine.
Without hesitation, Emmanuel pressed the push bar and flung the doors open. A rush of light burst into the darkened hall, cutting through the mists and revealing the nightmare waiting outside.
“Rare to hear you invoking the Almighty,” Emmanuel remarked, a wry smile touching his lips despite the chaos. It was an old joke between them, a relic of their shared past that managed to pierce the tension.
“Still, seeing you here is a damned relief,” Emmanuel added, his voice softening with genuine gratitude as he moved aside to let Warren in.
Warren staggered into the hall, his face etched with fatigue and a flickering spark of relief. He spotted Emmanuel and, with a burst of energy, enveloped him in a hearty, back-slapping hug. Warren’s arms barely managed to encircle Emmanuel’s broad shoulders—a clear indicator of his friend's relentless dedication to boxing. Emmanuel’s formidable physique, honed by countless hours in the gym and the ring, was a stark contrast to Warren’s own lean, muscular build, which had evolved from years of manual labor and rigorous workouts. Despite the striking difference in their statures, the bond between them was unmistakable.
Emmanuel grinned, clapping Warren on the back with a forceful but friendly slap, trying to inject some levity into the grim atmosphere that enveloped them. The flickering shadows of the hall seemed to momentarily fade as their reunion provided a brief, albeit fragile, respite from the pervasive dread outside.
As they parted from their embrace, Warren’s gaze fell immediately to Emmanuel’s wrist, where the absence of the MetaTEC was glaringly apparent.
“Where’s your MetaTEC?” Warren's voice carried a sharp edge of urgency, cutting through the din of their surroundings.
“It’s in my bag,” Emmanuel responded, casting a nervous glance around at the fog that seemed to press against the walls with an almost sentient menace. “Mum brought me up to London for an event this weekend. We were heading back when this mist rolled in—I've never seen anything like it. Then Jenny called, said her family was coming here, so we decided to come too.”
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Noticing the worry etched on Warren’s face, Emmanuel quickly added, trying to head off any further questions.
“Jenny’s in the drama studio, trying to keep everyone’s spirits up with a show. I took quite a beating in the ring last night, so I’m not exactly in the mood for—”
Warren interrupted him abruptly, frustration clear in his voice.
“We need to turn off the lights. And the electricity—everything.”
Emmanuel’s confusion was evident as he tilted his head, his brow furrowing. “What? Why?”
“They’re drawn to electricity,” Warren explained with intense urgency. “That’s how they track us. Sid filled me in on what’s really happening. He came by my house earlier today with some outlandish claims. I didn’t believe him at first—it’s Sid, after all. But then my house was attacked just as we were leaving for here. Sid was right about everything. Get your MetaTEC on and shut down the electricity. It’s our only chance to stay safe.”
Sid, another member of their close-knit group of gamers and roleplayers, had always been a bit of an enigma—an introverted soul with a penchant for internet lore and conspiracy theories. As he reached adulthood, Sid had retreated further into his own world. He was the one who introduced the MetaTEC to their group, a wearable smartwatch designed to integrate with their RPGs, which he had backed on Kickstarter while they were all still in school.
A chilling scream sliced through the air—a digital wail that grew more distorted and menacing with every second. Heavy thuds pounded against the door, one after another, shaking the room with their force. The subdued panic among the adults erupted into frantic murmurs.
Warren shoved Emmanuel with a decisive push. “Go!” he shouted, his voice laced with command. “Get everyone outside, into the dark. It’s safer away from the light.
“But—”
“Go. I’ve got this.”
The pounding on the door intensified, a relentless rhythm of dread echoing through the hall. Each thud seemed to pierce the tense silence, threatening to shatter their fragile sanctuary. Warren cast a desperate glance at his wrist and paled as he saw his mana reserves dwindling to a perilous low. With trembling fingers, he fumbled through his spell options, raising his arm and splaying his fingers wide, bracing himself for the oncoming storm.
Emmanuel darted back to his bag, his movements frantic and disordered. His hands fumbled over the damp fabric of his boxing gear, cursing his chaotic packing. In the midst of his desperation, his fingers finally brushed against the cool glass of his MetaTEC. A triumphant shout escaped his lips as he snatched the device and secured it around his wrist. The MetaTEC flickered to life, its screen briefly flashing with updates before the horrors breached the door at the far end of the hall.
The hall erupted into pandemonium. Emmanuel's voice cut through the chaos, a beacon of urgency amidst the frenzy. “You heard Warren! Get out of the hall, now!” His command was met with a mixture of stunned stares and bewildered murmurs. Some adults looked at him as though he were delusional. Emmanuel couldn’t fault them; he felt the same turmoil. Yet, driven by Warren’s resolute bravery and Sid’s eerie precision, he pushed forward with grim determination. With the MetaTEC now activated, Emmanuel raced toward the exit, clinging to the hope that it would be enough to avert disaster.