DING!
The crisp sound cut through the air. A burst of vibrant green light emanated from the scanner, illuminating the surroundings. It was a positive reading. I exhaled a sigh of relief and lowered my gun, handle slick with my sweat.
"Hector!" John’s voice, strained with unease, cut through the air. His following words immediately set my nerves on edge, sending a cold shiver down my spine. "The fog… it’s darkening faster than I’ve ever seen before; something's terribly wrong."
I nodded tersely, my own unease growing with every passing moment. Shakily, I motioned for John to enter, and he stumbled past the gate. His face was pale and streaked with sweat, his breath coming in quick, sharp bursts.
Minutes. It took only minutes for the fog to become visibly darker. From my vantage point, it seemed as if the darkness was seeping through the seams of the tunnel. The fog, now a shade of deep black, begins to shift. Its seething mass seems to form sinuous shapes that resemble tentacles. Each tendril moved with eerie fluidity, curling and squirming in the churning darkness.
A shadow emerges from the fog, its form elusive and hard to define. Though there are hints of a humanoid shape, it is distorted and wrapped in the tendrils of fog, making it appear both familiar and utterly alien. The shadows, without any discernible steps or movement, seemed to instantaneously shift closer to the gate. Their motion creates the uncanny impression that it is the fog itself that propels it forward.
I fired. The bullet tore through the figure. With a dull thud, the shadow dropped to the floor. It lay there, seemingly dead yet still contorting and twitching in bizarre shapes.
More shadowy entities emerged from the fog, their forms as indistinct and disturbing as the first. I shot again and again, pushing my thoughts and feelings aside as I acted on instinct alone. The fallen shadows littered the floor, soon to be claimed by the tendrils of fog, drawing them back to the murky depths whence they came.
Time stretched endlessly as the fog continued to swirl. The dome responded to the nightmares outside, its electricity intensifying, arcs of white lightning crackling across its surface. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and the acrid smell of gunpowder. My wrists ached, and my ears rang with the echoes of gunfire. My resolve wavered; my body screamed for a reprieve, but I could not stop. There was no end. There was only the fog, the entities, and the unyielding dome behind me.
At long last, the darkness started to dissipate, leaving the dome's barrier pulsating with its typical, eerie hum. The fog grew still—almost serene—as it softened into a shade of dull gray. For the moment, the worst was behind us. Utterly spent, I collapsed onto my chair, legs trembling with my frayed nerves.
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