The fog had grown thicker by the time Falcon finally reached the mansion.
The enormous Victorian structure loomed before him like a sleeping, diseased giant: three stories of dark stone covered in black ivy that seemed to pulse with a life of its own, twisted turrets, and a partially collapsed roof that cut against the moon. The first-floor windows were boarded up with rotten planks, and the dry fountain in the main courtyard held stagnant, greenish water.
Falcon stopped a few meters from the main entrance, the blunderbuss crossed over his chest and his yellow eye gleaming beneath the eyepatch. His long black coat, with the rampant lion embroidered on the back, fluttered slightly in the cold wind.
"Well…" he murmured to himself, his voice hoarse and low. "Home sweet home."
He climbed the three cracked stone steps and pushed the large wooden door with his gloved hand.
CREEEEEEAK…
The door didn't budge. It was locked from the inside or barricaded by something heavy.
"Of course," he growled, taking a step back. "It's never easy."
He circled the mansion in silence, moving around the west wing. His boots crunched over the damp gravel and dry leaves.
CRUNCH… CRUNCH…
He passed a boarded-up window and then another whose plank was broken. He peered inside for a moment, but saw only darkness and dust.
"Come on, you old pile… give me an entrance that doesn't require me to blow it open."
He kept moving until he reached the rear, where the garden had turned into a wild jungle of weeds and twisted bushes. There, almost hidden beneath a mantle of ivy, he found what he was looking for: a rusted iron trapdoor set into the ground, probably an old access to the basement or coal cellar.
He crouched in front of it. A thick iron padlock, old but solid, kept the trapdoor shut.
Falcon let out a short, dry laugh.
"I'm not wasting ammunition on this," he muttered as he pulled a thin, curved lockpick from an inner pocket of his coat. "We've already made enough noise today."
He inserted the lockpick with expert fingers and began working the padlock. The metal scraped softly against the mechanism.
CLICK… clack… clack…
"Come on… be good…" he whispered, turning the tool with precision. "Don't make me waste the whole night out here."
The padlock gave way with a final sharp CLACK.
Falcon smiled faintly, put the lockpick away, and lifted the trapdoor carefully. A smell of dampness, wet earth, and something much older rose from the darkness of the basement.
He took one last silent look at the mansion, then lowered his gaze to the black void opening at his feet.
"Here we go."
Falcon lifted the trapdoor fully and dropped down with feline agility. Instead of climbing down rung by rung, he braced his hands on the edges of the opening and slid downward with control, using his arms and legs to brake the descent as if it were an invisible rope. His long black coat billowed behind him as he descended quickly and silently.
As he went down, an unpleasant, thick odor flooded his nostrils: a putrid mix of dampness, mold, rotten earth, and something sickly sweet and metallic that reminded him far too much of old blood.
"Disgusting…" he growled between his teeth.
Without stopping his descent, he released one hand for a second and grabbed the gas mask hanging from his belt. With a quick, practiced motion, he slipped it over his face, adjusting it firmly while still sliding downward. The filter hissed softly as it activated.
He finally reached the basement floor with a soft thud of his boots.
Everything was plunged in near-total darkness. Only a very faint thread of moonlight filtered in from the open trapdoor above.
Falcon touched the metallic device attached to his right shoulder. With a soft click, he activated the built-in lantern. A cold white beam sliced through the blackness like a knife.
"Excellent…" he murmured with a half-smile beneath the mask. "These technological kits surprise me more every time."
The beam illuminated a large, ancient basement. The stone walls were covered in black moss and moisture. Rotten wooden crates were stacked in the corners, some open with their contents spilled out. Rusty chains and thick cobwebs hung from the ceiling, swaying slightly in the draft.
The smell was even stronger down here, even with the mask on.
Falcon swept the area with the lantern, moving cautiously. The beam revealed a narrow passageway at the far end of the basement that led deeper into the darkness of the mansion.
He took a step forward, the blunderbuss ready in his hands.
"Alright, mansion…" he whispered. "Show me what you're hiding."
The silence that answered was thick and heavy with anticipation.
All that could be heard was the faint hiss of his own breathing through the mask and the distant dripping of water somewhere in the darkness.
Falcon advanced slowly down the basement corridor, the beam from his shoulder lantern cutting through the blackness like a white blade. The air was dense, heavy with moisture and rot.
Suddenly, the beam illuminated a human figure slumped against the stone wall. It was sitting on the floor, head slightly tilted to one side.
Falcon approached cautiously, blunderbuss raised. When he shone the light on its face, he realized it was one of his companions from the research team. The skin was a sickly pale, almost cerulean, and the eyes were deeply sunken in their sockets. There was a clean gunshot wound to the right temple and a deep bite mark on the neck, the flesh torn and blackened.
"Poor devil…" Falcon murmured.
He crouched in front of the body and reached out to close its eyes.
The moment his fingers brushed the eyelids, the corpse's arm moved with brutal speed and seized his wrist with inhuman strength.
The dead man's eyes, which moments before had seemed lost in nothingness, now stared at him fixedly. A sickly yellow glow burned in the pupils.
Falcon reacted instantly. He raised the blunderbuss with his free hand and aimed directly at the creature's head.
But before he could fire, the creature also grabbed his other arm with its free hand, squeezing with terrifying force. The barrel of the blunderbuss was knocked aside.
All that could be heard was Falcon's accelerated breathing through the gas mask.
With a grunt of effort, Falcon delivered a brutal kick to the creature's face. The impact made bone crack. He kicked again and again with controlled fury. The monster's head slammed repeatedly against the stone wall, staining it with dark blood and chunks of flesh.
CRACK… CRACK… CRUNCH…
Even so, the creature wouldn't release his arms. Its split, bleeding mouth opened in a grotesque smile.
Suddenly, the monster yanked him forward violently. Falcon lost his balance and received a brutal kick to the chest that sent him flying.
He flew several meters backward and crashed heavily onto the stone floor.
THUD!
The blunderbuss slipped from his hands and slid across the floor with a metallic clatter, landing out of reach.
Falcon lay on his back, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. The gas mask hissed loudly as he struggled to catch his breath.
The creature, its face destroyed and mouth open at an impossible angle, began to rise slowly, its yellow eyes fixed on him.
Falcon gritted his teeth beneath the mask.
"You son of a bitch…" he growled, trying to get up.
The impact still echoed in his chest, but he recovered quickly. His yellow gaze locked onto the blunderbuss that had fallen a few meters away, gleaming faintly under his shoulder lantern.
Without wasting a second, he lunged toward the weapon.
At the same time, the creature pushed off the wall with an animalistic motion and hurled itself at him like a hungry shadow.
The battle was brutal and savage.
Falcon reached the blunderbuss first, but the moment his fingers brushed the stock, the monster slammed into him from the side. Both of them rolled across the stone floor in a clash of bodies and fury.
CRASH!
Falcon took an elbow to the jaw that made him see stars, but he answered with a sharp headbutt that widened the creature's split mouth even further. Blood splattered across his gas mask.
They separated for an instant. Falcon rolled, grabbed the blunderbuss with both hands, and rose to his knees just as the monster lunged at him again.
BOOM!
The point-blank shot struck the creature's right shoulder, tearing away the entire section, but it didn't stop it. The beast kept advancing, claws extended.
Falcon sprang to his feet and used the blunderbuss like a club, slamming it hard into the side of the monster's head.
CRACK!
The creature staggered, but in the blink of an eye it grabbed the barrel of the weapon with both hands and yanked it toward itself with inhuman strength. Falcon was pulled forward.
In a desperate move, he released the blunderbuss, spun on himself, and delivered a spinning kick to the creature's chest that forced it back several steps.
They faced each other once more.
Falcon, with the mask hissing and his black coat torn, drew his knife.
The creature, its shoulder destroyed and face turned into a bloody mask, let out a gurgling growl and charged again.
This time Falcon didn't retreat.
They met in the center of the basement in a final clash of violence.
The monster tried to bite his neck. Falcon drove the knife deep into its side and, with a roar of effort, shoved it backward with all his strength until he slammed it against the stone wall.
THUD!
The creature convulsed once… twice… and finally went still, the knife buried to the hilt in its torso.
Falcon stepped back, panting. He removed the mask so he could breathe better, his chest heaving. He stared at the lifeless body for a few seconds, then spat on the floor.
"Stay dead this time."
He picked up his blunderbuss from the ground, reloaded with quick movements, and looked toward the dark corridor that continued ahead.
Falcon frowned.
"First animals… and now a human," he murmured. "What the hell is happening in this place?"
He cast one last quick glance at the monster's corpse. The bullet wound to the head was clear and deep, and yet… it had kept moving after all the damage he had inflicted.
"How were you still alive?" he said quietly, almost to himself. "You had a bullet in your head… and you were still attacking."
He composed himself, shaking his head.
"Maybe this place is haunted… or that man was possessed. If not, I can't find a more logical explanation for all this."
As he walked, the beam of his lantern revealed something far more unsettling: a series of iron-barred cells lining both sides of the corridor. Some were empty. In others, human silhouettes could be seen sitting or lying on the floor. He didn't know if they were alive or dead, but after what he had just faced, he had no intention of finding out up close.
Until he reached one cell in particular.
Inside were two people, and among them he managed to make out someone wearing the Division's uniform.
Falcon approached carefully, blunderbuss ready.
"Hey…" he called softly, not raising his voice too much. "Can you hear me?"
There was no answer.
A girl lay motionless on a rusted bed. Beside her, a man sat in a chair, head fallen onto his chest, apparently asleep… or unconscious.
Falcon tapped the bars lightly with his knuckles.
"I'm Falcon, from the operations team. Are you alive? Answer me."
Absolute silence.
He examined the cell door. There was no traditional lock or padlock. It was an automatic door mechanism, probably controlled from elsewhere. Impossible to open by force without heavy tools or explosives.
Suddenly, the man sitting in the chair began to open his eyes slowly.
Falcon startled and took a step back, aiming the weapon.
The man lifted his head with difficulty. When he saw Falcon on the other side of the bars, his eyes widened and he jumped to his feet, staggering.
"Please!" he begged in a hoarse, desperate voice, rushing toward the bars. "Help me! Get us out of here! For God's sake, get us out of here!"
Falcon kept the weapon aimed, but didn't fire.
"Who are you? What are you doing locked up in here?"
The man gripped the bars with both hands, trembling.
"We're from the Erebus team… please… they're turning us… they're turning us into…"
His voice broke. Behind him, the girl lying on the bed began to move very slowly.
Falcon clenched his jaw.
"Easy. Tell me what's happening down here."
The man looked back in terror, then turned to Falcon again.
"There's no time… please… open the door… before it's too late."
Falcon moved a little closer to the bars, keeping the blunderbuss aimed but never lowering his guard.
"Explain to me what's happening down here. Everything. From the beginning."
The man nodded desperately, his hands shaking as he clutched the bars.
"We were sent to investigate… disappearances, murders… cases of cannibalism in the area. In the end, all the clues led us to this mansion."
Falcon nodded.
"I already know that. But what happened next?"
The man interrupted him, nervous and with a breaking voice:
"But everything went out of control! In the middle of the forest we were attacked by wild animals… we lost two teammates in minutes."
Falcon instantly remembered Derek and the deformed stag with the body of that other research team member impaled on its antlers. His jaw tightened.
The man continued, growing more agitated:
"We came here looking for shelter… thinking it would be safer than staying outside. What a huge mistake! It would have been better if they had devoured us out there… This place is a true hell."
He said it with pure agony, gripping the bars so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
"We split up to explore… I went with my companion to investigate the basement. Then… we were attacked by a huge creature. It brought us here… injected us with something strange. It was some kind of serum… but it's not… it's not…"
The man clutched his face with both hands, shaking violently, his voice becoming increasingly erratic and mad.
Falcon frowned.
"What are you saying? What serum? Speak clearly!"
Suddenly, the man's eyes widened dramatically. His entire body began to tremble uncontrollably.
"B… behind… you…" he stammered, his voice turning into a terrified whisper. "Behind you! Watch out!"
Falcon spun around quickly.
Behind him, only a few meters away, stood an imposing and silent figure.
It was dressed in a long, heavy coat of dark grayish-green that covered its entire body down to the feet. The coat had a rugged design, with visible stitching, a wide hood, and a decorative chain on the chest. The sleeves showed reinforcements and integrated gloves, giving the impression it was designed for protection in hostile environments.
On its head it wore a full gas mask with dark round lenses and a front filter that completely hid its face, giving it a mysterious and threatening appearance.
It held firmly a huge two-handed hammer, its metal head gleaming faintly under Falcon's lantern light.
Its posture was stable and dominant, legs slightly apart, conveying absolute confidence and control.
A chill ran down Falcon's spine.
«How…?» he thought. «When did it position itself behind me? How is it possible that something so large made no noise?»
He tried to react, turning his body and raising the blunderbuss.
But it was too late.
The imposing figure moved with terrifying speed. A powerful punch struck Falcon directly in the face, slamming him brutally against the cell bars.
CRACK!
The impact was devastating. Falcon let out a muffled grunt and fell heavily to the stone floor, the blunderbuss slipping from his hands.
From inside the cell, the man watched the scene with eyes full of pure horror.
The imposing figure remained standing, motionless, looking down at Falcon's fallen body. The light from the shoulder lantern illuminated its threatening silhouette from a low angle, casting a gigantic shadow on the wall.