𝗧𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗬𝗢𝗨 ── 𝘚.𝘚𝘛𝘐𝘓𝘐𝘕𝘚𝘒𝘐

♡ 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗘𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗬-𝗙𝗢𝗨𝗥 ♡

"Unit Five reporting a sighting on Hill Road southbound-"

"Unit Nine, I've got it turning off Oakridge, southbound on Beachwood-"

"All units, this is Dispatch. We've got a 911 call with additional sighting on Mitchell."

Stiles heard Scott turn in his seat, voice panicked. "Wait a second, Beachwood to Mitchell?"

Scott nodded, eyes wide. "It's headed back for the hospital."

He grabbed the mic again. "Dad-"

"Stiles, get off this channel." The Sheriff warned.

"Dad, just listen to me, okay? It's headed for the hospital. He's headed for Beacon Memorial." he breathed. "You hear me? It's headed for the hospital."

When no answer came, Stiles tossed the radio back and put his car into gear, pressing harder on the pedal.

Meanwhile, miles away at the same hospital, Melissa McCall's voice echoed across the intercom. "Again, this is a Code White, a full hospital evacuation. All critical patients will be taken by ambulance upstate to Hill Valley," she spoke with a slight shake to her voice as citizens stormed and pushed through the halls. "I repeat, all critical patients will be taken by ambulance upstate to Hill Valley."

Melissa jumped back when a loud crash shook the building, lights flickering and dust falling from the crevices of brick. Screams erupted, and panic ensued. Yet, Melissa gave a curious and fearful stare as she carefully stepped forward.

The halls were becoming empty as doctors and nurses ushered the patients out. Leaving Melissa alone in a flickering and unsteady hall that housed much more darkness than the odd blinking light.

Soon, she was all by herself while she faced a long hall stretching for what felt like miles. A few spotlights lit up her path but it was still covered in the same misty haze that covered everything in town for miles.

The elevator creaked upwards as it stopped at her floor. Adding to the unease, the doors remained shut; the mirrored doors were right in sight as they reflected the horror she wore on her face.

The doors came to a stretch and as she saw the dark silhouette, it didn't take another moment for her subconscious steps to carry her towards the exit, dark hair blowing in a winded craze.

"Unit Five, Clark, I need eyes on Parrish." Sheriff Stilinski buzzed. "Does anyone have Parrish's 20?"

"All units, we have a 911 emergency call reporting a man on fire running into Beacon Memorial."

"Clark, disregard." The Sheriff muttered into his mic before making a sharp turn.

Cold glass pressed against Stiles' hand as he pushed open the door of the memorial. Scott was beside him, soaking up the paranoid scents he was waving. They were barely two steps in before their sneakers screeched against the plastic flooring and fear crept up their spines like icy spider-legs. Cocking his gun behind them, Noah appeared.

He gave Stiles a stern shush before Scott spoke up, wolf ears perked at the distant growling erupting through the shaky building. "Fourth floor."

They crept up the stairs; Noah decided to step in front and kept him gun aimed upward as he shushed them lowly. The deeper they descended into the madhouse, the thicker the smoke got. Stiles could taste it in his lungs, Noah could feel it in his eyes, and Scott? Scott practically melted into it as his senses became his sight.

There was the odd flash of light from the flickering strip lights. Every few seconds, it was doused in a whitish glimmer before disappearing back into darkness. Noah took that as his advantage to scope out the room every second in between, his steps careful and quiet as his gun stationed forward.