|-NOTICE-|
Royal Riden, Eden De Los Santos, Dominic Narvaez and The Roc have been eliminated.
|------------|
"Michael? Call out if you're there!"
The sergeant shouts into the wall of darkness. Things turn to things turning too soon into the things they were before. Twists and turns and walls are brought forth from nothing at all. The lanterns hung strung out are like stars in a night sky–pockets of cold, vaporous warmth, which do little to illuminate. Whenever her racing mind isn't focusing on them directly, she forgets all the things they illuminate.
There is a moan from somewhere over somewhere and all of the chaos coalesces into a gemstone that pulsates red like fear like hate like love like fate. It's as if the sergeant's heart has been torn through her throat and tossed a few meters before her.
"Michael what happened." Her voice has gone hoarse. She still speaks with volume, but now it's fashioned as a whisper.
"Oh, uh this? I know it looks bad but honestly I don't feel a thing. Must have bumped it at some point. I know it's bad, but my hardhat won't fit anymore–before this it wouldn't fit any longer," the darkness responds. It rubs its head.
She squints at the talking fluorescent orange vest. "No, not that, I mean like what is happening, the door is clawed apart, base is empty." She walks towards him, waving about arms she can't even see herself, hoping he'll get the effect. As she does, Mike turns from his work in shock, and as his expression darkens, his face is also illuminated. The man's bald head is painted with streaks of red and blue, and the back of it is elongated into a point the shape of a football. It's some bruise. "My God, what happened?" the sergeant interrupts Mike's reaction to her own news. "No, you look awful, did something get to you?"
"I don't think so, it's like I said. And I feel fine, I promise. And it sounds like I got bigger things to worry about. You and I both. Now, nobody knows about this but us yet?"
There is a period of silence as the sergeant is still tracing the shape of Michael's head with her worried eyes. The question posed finally registers. "As far as I know, yes. You were the first I found."
"Well I know what we need to do then." The sergeant asks him what that is. "We need to take a deep breath and think about our plan," he says. The sergeant's eyes make the same motion as when they were running around the man's head, but this time they are exasperated. Mike laughs at this, a chuckle at ease, and he empties his hands of red powder into a watching glass before reaching into his pocket. "Here." There is a crinkle as he unsheathes a sleeve of processed products. "I didn't want the crackers with my Lunchables today. Eat."
The sergeant sighs and leans onto the workbench before them, but only for a second before a pang swells in her right arm. She bites at her bark and waggles the burning away behind her back from where Mike is standing so he can't see it. She leans on her left arm instead.
"Expensive way to have ham," she mutters, snatching the food away from him and forcing a cracker into her mouth.
"Well I didn't plan it like this."
As they stand there, the sergeant remembers her radio. That should've been the first thing she tried. She presses down on the side of the small metal box and listens, transmitting the sound or her smacking her dry lips across caverns and crannies. "All units present respond as you can." There is only static. "All units present respond as you can. If you can reach Floor B safely, do so with haste. There we can regroup. Be on high alert, there has been a breach." More static. The two workers share a look between them, expressing fear that the lines are down. And then they share a worse look as they consider the possibility that they might not be.
Then there is a sound. It is garbled and unintelligible. The sergeant ducks down to her radio, listening close.
Mike instead turns back to his work station, and beyond that, a tunnel digging deeper into the depths. "Sarge..."
"Shh! Something's coming through." The shadow of something sharp walks across her furrowed brow.
The noise comes again and closer now. Right behind them. They both whip around and peer into the dark, seeing nothing.
Then there is the sound of glassware breaking.
|-TASK FOUR-|
Here there be, well, we aren't sure yet. There are creatures in these caves, but don't even try describing them, because you'll just be peeved when their appearance predictably becomes canon next task. All you know of them are the shadows on the far walls and the creaks in the night. Your challenge this task is to write suspense, almost horror. Do whatever you need to do, but you are not alone. Pacing will play a big part in this. Linger on the right moments and speed things up just in time for the scare. Good luck out there.
|-WORD LIMIT-|
3000 words.
|-STAKES-|
The 3 lowest scores for this task will be up for votes. Of those, 1 will be eliminated.
|-DEADLINE-|
Sunday, October 23rd, 10:00 PM EST
