Episode 116 - Into the Dark
The drone arrived before they did.
The sky was overcast. Gray. Low. The wind cut through the air, cold and sharp, dragging dust and loose leaves across the asphalt. It was around five… maybe six in the evening. That uneasy hour when daylight no longer belongs to the day, but night hasn't fully claimed it yet.
The drone hovered.
Not like an object.
Like something that hunts.
It adjusted itself in small, almost organic movements, correcting its position with surgical precision. The hum was faint, but constant… like an insect that never tires.
It observed.
Recorded.
It saw the vehicle.
It saw Titus step out.
It saw the others with him.
The warehouse door opened.
And then—
Closed.
The drone descended a few meters.
Tried to see inside.
It couldn't.
The walls didn't give.
No cracks. No weak points.
Just sealed surface.
Hermetic.
The drone began circling the structure.
Once.
Again.
And again.
Changing height. Changing angle.
Searching.
Measuring.
Like a predator that cannot find the entrance… but refuses to leave.
The wind pushed against it.
It stabilized.
Returned.
Persistent.
Hours passed.
The light shifted.
It grew darker. Heavier.
And then—
Movement.
The door opened again.
The drone adjusted.
It saw Titus come out.
The others with him.
It recorded each silhouette.
Each step.
The distance between them.
There was no sound.
No conversation.
Only image.
Data.
The drone did not follow.
It rose.
And pulled away.
—
Several kilometers away…
A room.
Dark.
Not from neglect.
By design.
A single dim light hung overhead, yellowish, sickly, leaving the rest of the space swallowed by shadows that seemed deeper than they should be.
The air was still.
Heavy.
An old desk occupied the center of the visible space.
Worn wood.
Scratched.
Edges marked by years of use.
In front of it, a chair just as old.
It creaked faintly with even the slightest movement.
On the desk:
An old television.
Thick screen.
Unstable image.
Flickering.
And beside it…
A telephone.
Black.
Heavy.
From another time.
The man sat there.
He barely moved.
Black suit.
Immaculate.
White shirt.
Not a wrinkle.
Tie perfectly aligned.
Black shoes.
Black socks.
Nothing about him was out of place.
Nothing.
His glasses reflected the screen.
Fragments from the drone played in loops.
Entry.
Movement.
Exit.
Repeat.
His gaze was not curious.
It was clinical.
Cold.
As if he wasn't watching people…
But patterns.
He breathed slowly.
Controlled.
Almost imperceptible.
He picked up the phone.
Dialed.
Waited.
When someone answered…
He spoke.
Few words.
Dry.
Cut short.
They explained nothing.
But said everything.
He hung up.
Silence returned.
Denser.
Fuller.
The door opened.
Another man entered.
Dressed exactly the same.
Same suit.
Same precision.
Same absence of individuality.
He stopped.
"The preparations will begin immediately."
Pause.
"You will be notified as soon as everything is ready."
"We await your order."
The man in the chair did not respond.
Did not fully turn.
He simply raised a hand.
A minimal gesture.
Cold.
The other understood.
He lowered his head.
Gave a slight bow.
Precise.
Controlled.
Then stepped back.
Left without a sound.
The door closed.
The man turned his attention back to the screen.
The drone hadn't found an entrance.
But it had seen enough.
His lips did not smile.
But something in his expression shifted.
Not satisfaction.
Recognition.
They had lost the target.
For now.
But they already knew where it breathed.
And that…
Was enough to begin the hunt.
Hours later, the same agent entered the same room.
Nothing had changed.
The dim yellow light still hung overhead. The old desk. The old chair. The flickering screen. The heavy black telephone resting beside it.
The man remained seated.
Unmoving.
Watching.
The agent stopped a few steps behind him.
"Everything is ready."
Silence.
A long one.
The man didn't turn. Didn't shift. Didn't ask.
He spoke one word.
"Go."
The agent lowered his head slightly. A controlled nod.
Then turned and left.
The door closed.
—
Minutes later…
Engines.
Low. Controlled. Suppressed.
A convoy moved through the fading light. Civilian camouflage. Dark trucks. Black SUVs. A pair of Humvees rolling heavier behind them.
No sirens. No lights. Just movement.
They arrived.
Surrounded the warehouse.
Positions taken. Angles covered.
They moved slowly. Closing in.
Like something tightening its grip.
Doors opened.
Agents stepped out.
All in black. Heavily armed. Disciplined. No wasted motion.
They advanced toward the structure.
Four teams. Four entry points.
C4 charges placed.
Quick. Precise.
Clicks. Timers.
They stepped back.
—
Boom.
The blast tore through the silence.
Doors shattered.
Wood and metal ripped apart.
They moved in immediately.
Fast. Controlled.
Weapons raised.
Sweeping. Clearing.
Four different entrances.
Converging.
—
And then—
They stopped.
At the center of the warehouse… nothing.
No movement. No people. No sound.
Only—
A chair.
Wooden. Placed exactly in the middle.
A single lamp above it, casting a narrow cone of light.
Everything else swallowed in darkness.
One agent approached.
Slow. Weapon aimed.
He reached the chair.
Noticed something.
A paper.
Attached to the backrest.
He grabbed it.
Read.
"Aren't you afraid of the dark?"
A pause.
The agent frowned slightly.
"What the hell is this…"
And then—
A sound.
Low. Deep.
A growl that didn't belong to anything human.
Another.
From the opposite side.
Then another.
Breathing.
Heavy.
Close.
The agents shifted.
Weapons moved.
Flashlights snapped on—
Red.
Pairs.
Dozens.
Eyes.
Watching.
Thirty… maybe more.
Not blinking.
Not moving.
Just there.
Waiting.
One agent inhaled sharply.
Too late.
A howl tore through the darkness.
Not one.
Many.
Layered.
Animal.
Primal.
And then—
The slaughter began.
Screams.
Gunfire.
Bodies hitting the ground.
Metal clashing.
Flesh tearing.
The darkness moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
Outside, a drone hovered.
Recording.
But it couldn't see.
Only hear.
Noise.
Chaos.
Screams breaking into nothing.
—
Miles away, inside the dark room—
The man stood up suddenly.
For the first time.
His hand struck the desk.
Hard.
The screen flickered violently.
Static.
Signal loss.
The drone feed cut.
Silence.
—
Back in the warehouse—
Shadows shifted.
And from within them—
They emerged.
Titus.
No longer human.
A massive wolf.
Dark.
Eyes burning.
At his side—
Another.
Black.
Larger.
Eyes glowing purple.
And on the other side—
Something else.
A wolf…
With two heads.
Both sets of eyes…
The same unnatural violet.
They stood still.
Breathing.
Blood in the air.
The remains of what had entered scattered around them.
Then—
They lifted their heads.
And howled.
Together.
Into the dark.