It was late evening when the group gathered at the lot for another session of drills. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth, and the dim glow of a streetlamp barely reached the overgrown space where they trained. Mason was tinkering with one of his traps, Kyle practiced swinging his bat against a makeshift dummy, and Ethan ran laps around the perimeter, his breath steady but labored.

Then the rustling started.

Ethan froze mid-stride, his instincts flaring. He raised a hand to silence the others. “Did you hear that?”

Mason looked up from his work, his brow furrowed. “Hear what?”

Before Ethan could respond, the sound grew louder—something moving through the bushes at the edge of the lot. It was fast, erratic, like a predator stalking its prey.

Kyle gripped his bat tighter, his voice low. “Please tell me that’s just a squirrel.”

Ethan stepped toward the noise, his collapsible baton gripped firmly in his hand. “Stay back,” he warned, his eyes scanning the darkness. “This could be bad.”

The rustling stopped. For a moment, the lot was deathly silent, the tension thick enough to choke on.

Then it lunged.

The raccoon burst out of the bushes, its eyes glowing with an eerie, faint green light. Its body moved unnaturally, limbs jerking with a speed and precision that no ordinary animal should have. It let out a guttural snarl, baring sharp, yellowed teeth as it charged straight for Ethan.

Ethan reacted instantly, his baton snapping forward with a sharp crack as it struck the creature’s head. The raccoon staggered but didn’t stop. It snarled again, leaping at him with claws outstretched.

“Get back!” Ethan shouted, swinging again. This time, the baton connected with its ribs, sending the raccoon tumbling to the ground. But it scrambled back to its feet, unfazed.

Kyle cursed under his breath. “What the hell is that thing?!”

“It’s mutated,” Ethan growled, circling the creature. “Just like the dog. Stay behind me.”

Mason grabbed a wrench from his tool bag and stood defensively. “What’s the plan, Graves?”

“We take it down,” Ethan said, his voice steady. “Aim for the head or spine. Don’t let it touch you.”

The raccoon lunged again, but this time Kyle stepped in, swinging his bat with all his strength. The nails embedded in the bat tore into the creature’s side, eliciting a wet screech as blood splattered onto the ground.

“Yeah, take that!” Kyle shouted, adrenaline surging through him.

The raccoon writhed, its movements jerky and frantic. Mason saw his opening and swung the wrench down onto its spine. The sharp crack echoed through the lot as the creature collapsed, its body twitching violently before going still.

The group stood in stunned silence, their breaths heavy, the metallic tang of blood filling the air. Ethan crouched down, flipping the creature over. Beneath its matted fur, a faintly glowing core pulsed in its chest.

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“Another one,” Ethan muttered, pulling out a knife. He cut into the raccoon’s flesh with grim precision, extracting the core. It was warm to the touch, glowing faintly in the dim light.

Mason leaned over, his face pale. “That’s... disgusting.”

Kyle wiped blood off his bat, his hands trembling slightly. “This is what we’re up against, huh? Mutant death raccoons? What’s next, glowing bears?”

Ethan stood, holding the core up. “This is just the beginning. And if we don’t get better, this thing would’ve killed us all.”

The group walked back to Mason’s garage in silence, the weight of what had happened pressing down on them. Once inside, Ethan placed the core on the workbench, its faint glow casting long shadows across the room.

Mason leaned against the wall, staring at the core. “So... what do we do with this thing?”

Ethan turned to him, his expression serious. “Cores are power. I don’t know how to use them yet, but I’ve seen what they can do. If we can figure it out, we’ll have an edge.”

Kyle dropped into a chair, rubbing his temples. “An edge? We barely survived a raccoon. What happens when something bigger shows up?”

“We don’t wait for something bigger,” Ethan said firmly. “We train harder. Smarter. We learn from this, and we get better.”

Mason frowned. “What about the other people in town? They’re not ready for this. Hell, they don’t even know it’s happening.”

“They’ll find out soon enough,” Ethan said grimly. “But we can’t save everyone. We save ourselves first.”

Ethan pushed the group harder than ever. He set up sparring sessions, forcing Kyle and Mason to practice against each other. Kyle grumbled at first, but after the fight with the raccoon, he put more effort into his swings, focusing on precision and power.

Ethan introduced new drills, including scenarios where they had to defend against multiple attackers. He used makeshift dummies to simulate swarm attacks, forcing them to think on their feet and prioritize targets.

“You don’t just swing blindly,” Ethan said during one session, blocking Kyle’s bat with his baton. “You watch your opponent, look for openings, and strike where it hurts the most.”

Mason threw himself into creating better weapons and defenses. He modified Kyle’s bat with sharpened metal strips, making it deadlier with each swing. He also rigged an old slingshot to launch small, sharpened scrap metal pieces.

“Not bad,” Kyle said, testing the slingshot on a dummy. The projectile embedded itself deep into the target.

“I’ll make it better,” Mason replied. “This is just the prototype.”

They also worked on traps. Mason set up tripwires with attached alarms, designed to alert them to incoming threats. He experimented with small explosives made from household chemicals, though Ethan made him promise to test them far away from the group.

Ethan led the charge in stockpiling more supplies. He mapped out every thrift store, pawnshop, and hardware store in the area, creating a route for efficient scavenging.

At the hardware store, he loaded carts with duct tape, nails, hammers, and rope. At a camping supply store, he picked up tents, sleeping bags, and portable stoves. Every trip felt like a small victory, but Ethan knew it still wasn’t enough.

“We need a place to store all this,” Mason said, looking around his increasingly cramped garage.

“We’ll find one,” Ethan replied. “We’ll need a base sooner or later.”

Mason took the lead on examining the raccoon’s core. He hooked it up to a makeshift device, trying to measure its energy output. The results were inconsistent, but one thing was clear: the core was more than just a glowing object.

“This thing’s packed with energy,” Mason said, watching the readings. “If we could figure out how to harness it...”

“It could make us stronger,” Ethan finished. “But we need to be careful. It’s unstable, and we don’t know what it’ll do.”

Kyle grimaced. “What if it blows up in our faces?”

“Then we learn from our mistakes,” Ethan said. “Just like everything else.”

As the days passed, the tension grew. More reports of strange animal behavior surfaced online—glowing-eyed birds attacking hikers, stray dogs behaving aggressively in packs. The signs were everywhere, and Ethan knew the clock was ticking.

One night, he stood outside the garage, staring at the horizon. The stars were faint against the city’s light pollution, but the air felt charged, like the calm before a storm.

Inside, Mason and Kyle were arguing over trap designs, their voices muffled by the walls. Ethan clenched his fists, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him.

“We’re not ready yet,” he muttered to himself. “But we will be.”

Time Until Cataclysm: 248 Days, 3 Hours, 18 Minutes.