Dark. Cold. The sounds of dripping water everywhere. Lights flickering nearby in rooms. Quiet? No. As she tried to move, restraints held her back. Unable to scream, unable to flee. She was trapped. Trapped in a dark room, Natasha is.

"Good morning, Natasha," a voice said. With the red ball in her mouth, all she could do was moan. She couldn't scream as mentioned above. "Natasha Rosa Adams. Born: December 2, 1981, in Austin, TX.

A light turned on, shining down on her face. Sweaty. Scratches on her right cheek, a big bruise on her left cheek, and a deep gash wound on her forehead. The blood has long dried, with streaks of dried blood running down her forehead and cheek. She couldn't make out who was talking to her, or where she was. It was a man talking. Moaning was her only way of communicating.

FLAP! The man talking to her had thrown something onto the floor.

"Ugh, where are my manners?"

He leaned forward, revealing his arms and lower stomach area. His face remained hidden behind the light. She moaned and she shook her head. Her eyes got watery. He reached to pull the strap off of her head. She squirmed around, ratting the long metal table she was restrained to. When the ball came out of her mouth, she began shouting.

"Help, please!" She shouted, "someone–someone–," she continued as her mouth was covered up by the man's hand. She was shushed.

"Shh. Wouldn't want to wake the spider."

Natasha kept her mouth shut as he pulled his hand away slowly. The light flickered but didn't go out. As it flickered, she managed to catch a quick glimpse of the man. But it was too dark to make out how tall he was, or how big he was. She could only see the outline of the man.

"Who are you?" Natasha whispered loudly in a demanding tone, " What are you going to do to me?"

CLINK! That was the sound of something made from metal. Something small. Even though she struggled to get a look around at her surroundings and who the man was, she quickly put the pieces together. Turns out, he was picking up some tools. Natasha couldn't see what tools he was picking up and putting down. Judging by the sounds, they were small tools.

What he didn't know about her, if he bothered to even look at it, was that Natasha had experience in law enforcement. You're probably wondering how she ended up here, huh? Allow me to elaborate. Drawn to the island from a missing person case that went cold. Little was known why the person came to the island. In the end, that person never came home.

Thirty-eight people have gone missing over the past eleven years. The first case dates back to 2011. In the months and years that followed, more people would go missing. No traces, evidence, or leads ever came about; thus causing their cases to go cold.

He scoffed and chuckled. Whatever he was doing behind the light, stopped. His hands emerged from the darkness. Pulling the velcro straps apart, he was setting her free. Why? Natasha didn't understand why he was letting her go. Who's they? What was he talking about?

"You're letting me go?" Natasha asked as he walked down to her feet to loosen the straps around her ankles. Continuing to do so until all the straps were loosened.

"Before you go," he said, "I want you to have this."

"Over my dead body," Natasha said as she sat up, pulling her feet towards her and out of the straps. She turned and jumped off, turning around. The room went silent again.

Shaking the entire table as she jumped off of it. The rattling echoed. A shuffling sound was heard from behind her, followed by creepy giggling and laughing. "Natasha, meet the Witch," he told her as he looked back over his right shoulder. He inhaled sharply as a needle was jammed into her neck. An unknown serum was injected into her. The needle was pulled out.

The witch, wherever she was, started laughing and clapping. Natasha rubbed her hand on her neck where she felt the needle go in and come out. When she pulled her hand away, she looked down at it. The light by the table had been moved by the mysterious man, now shining over at her.

Looking down at her hand, smeared on her palm, was a pinkish-gray substance. "What is this? What'd you do?" She asked, glancing over at the light. The man stood behind the light, setting the syringe down on his tray of surgical tools.

SNIFF, SNIFF! Natasha had felt the hand of the witch behind her. The witch had rubbed her hand down the length of her leg, sniffing her hand afterward. After sniffing her hand, she licked it. She giggled as retreated back and away from Natasha.

"The fuck?"

"She likes you," the man told Natasha.

"You're a psychopath! You and your freak army of cannibals! When the world finds out what you're doing, you're dead." Natasha explained.

The man stood silently. The light was turned off by the man. Retreating footsteps were heard again. She couldn't see the outline of the man anymore. It was dark. A few seconds later, with the flip of a switch, overhead hanging lights began turning on. Row by row, many of the lights turned on. Some flickered, while other lights dangled from the ceiling, sparking often.

"If you escape that is," the man said.

Natasha quickly turned her head over to her right, finally able to see the man in plain sight. He was wearing ripped shorts, but no shirt, socks, or shoes. He was barefoot and bald. His entire body was covered in red paint; even his ripped, worn shorts.

"You!" Natasha said as she pointed over at him, "you're–you're–."

"SATAN!" a muffled female voice shouted from nearby. Able to get a good look around, she was finally able to make sense of where she was–really.

She stopped looking around once she laid eyes on ten other people locked away in cells. They pounded on the floor-to-ceiling window hard, continuing to shout disembodied slurs and warnings. In total, there were four cells, all of which were occupied. Two women, a teenage girl, and two men were all trapped. One person to each cell.

Natasha gasped dramatically, covering her mouth with her hand. She was disgusted and outraged. How many more people are there? What purpose do they serve? Looking over to her left, the Red Man was still standing over by the light switch with his hands behind his back.

"Monster! You're a sick, twisted twat!"

"Is that what you think?"

"What you're doing… is illegal. You know, I know more about you than you think," Natasha said.

"Is that so?" the Red Man questioned as he tilted his head slightly. Natasha nodded her head and crossed her arms.

"Well then, in that case," he said, "you're free to go."

He held his right arm out straight, pointing over at the exit sign and doors. He rested his back upon the light gray wall. He stood in that position for a moment or two. She scoffed, shook her head, smiled, and laughed.

The floors were littered with disembodied limbs, blood, and chunks of rotting flesh and guts. When she looked down at her feet, she screamed and took a step back. She was standing next to four bloody fingers. She covered her mouth with her left hand as she glanced over to her left at the spider.

"Uh-oh," he said.

The spider is also known as Virginia. Not much was known about her. Natasha had no clue as to what was going to happen. Was it time to flee? The creature hissed loudly as she leaped up onto her legs? Landing on all four legs, she fixated her attention on Natasha.

"Damn!" Natasha said.

Virginia hissed, only this time louder. The floor began shaking violently. Something was coming. Another cannibal? Or another mutant perhaps?

ROAR!

"Natasha," the Red Man said, "meet Cowman."

The Cowman had a face that resembled a chunky babyface, only it didn't have eyes. Its eye sockets were empty. Just like Virginia, he had tiny undergrown arms; one on his right, and one on his left. Its feet were oversized and bloody. His feet were so big, that every time he took a step, a loud thumping sound occurred.

Holding up three fingers, he lowered each one every five seconds. He was counting down to something, but what?

"Run!" one woman shouted from inside her cell, "Run!"

Turning around to look behind her, Natasha looked up into the Cowman's empty, dark eye sockets. Even though he couldn't see, he had his head lowered; looking down at Natasha. Virginia took a few steps forward toward her, Virginia leaned back slightly, lifting her two front legs. Rubbing them together a few times, Natasha was able to get a good look at her underside. Instead of her mouth being on her face, it is on her bottom side. How creepy and disgusting that sight is. It's now forever cemented in her head, never to forget that sight.

Suddenly, a bump started moving down her left arm, followed by more. Similar-sized bumps appeared on her hands, wrists, legs, and her neck. They were all over. From behind, the Witch laughed hysterically, jumping up and down, clapping her hands.

"Let's give her a headstart," the Red Man said, looking down at the witch.

Without another minute wasted, she booked it for the exit doors as fast as she could run. She had forgotten about the bumps all over her body. But as she approached the doors, she began feeling dizzy and light-headed.

"It's working," he mentioned, "that was fast."

"What did you inject me with?"

"A serum," he answered.

"What kind of serum?" She asked, raising her voice, "what's happening to me?"

The Red Man smiled and lowered his right arm. He scoffed and shook his head. He did this as he stared down at the floor. Upon raising his head, he looked back over at Natasha, smiling and chuckling sinisterly.

"A life-changing one," the Red Man said, "a serum infused with genes of my mutants."

"You're–you're joking," Natasha said, "right?"

He didn't bother to elaborate. It's like he didn't register her question. He clapped his heads together once, capturing the attention of everybody around him; Natasha included.

"Everyone, welcome to our newest family member," the Red Man said, "Natasha."

Elsewhere on the island, a group of people were setting up camp on a beach. There were dead shark carcasses on the beach, with suitcases scattered around. In the water, just a short swim out, a half-sunken yacht was located. The sail was down, the yacht listing. Somehow though, the yacht hadn't sunk completely. If one wanted, they could swim out to it; discovering the secrets it has inside.

Many visitors have come and gone, with many being slaughtered by mutants or cannibals. Unbeknownst to the four campers, they came to the island with low expectations. The sun had set behind the North Mountain, with nightfall quickly setting in. The tents had been set up, with a fire in the process of being made.

"Where's Jeremy?"

"Getting firewood," Talon answered.

He was going through the suitcases, seeing if there was anything of use to them. So far, he's only come across some cloth and outdated protein bars. There were dozens of suitcases and trunks on the beach.

They've all heard the stories and the rumors. But none of them believed what was said about this place. To experience it for themselves, they chartered a small speed boat for the weekend to travel to the island. It was a last-minute decision to come here. A weekend trip away from home, what could go wrong?

Jeremy had his arm wrapped around a small bunch of sticks. With the sun setting, it quickly became dark in the forest. The strong winds coming from the ocean were blowing the trees back and forth, causing them to creak and groan. He reached into his back pocket to grab his phone. Using the flashlight, he could now easily see where sticks were on the ground.

After leaning over to pick up two sticks next to a tall oak tree, he added them to his bunch of sticks. Searching for any flammable item he could, he decided that he had found enough for the fire. As he turned around to head back in the direction from which he came, a man was standing a couple of feet away from him. He had startled Jeremy, causing him to drop the sticks he was carrying.

"Holy shit," Jeremy said as he rested his hand on his chest just over his heart, leaning over. He was breathing heavily for a moment. "Don't just creep up on me like that Woody. You know I don't–."

"There are others?" the man questioned.

When Jeremy shined his flashlight on who he thought was Woody, he then realized that it wasn't his friend. This man was someone else, someone he didn't know. He had painted his body with red paint. His head was shaved. He had scratch marks all over his chest and arms. He was a well-built man. He maintained his weight and was well fit.

"Yeah, I mean… I didn't come alone," Jeremy said as he kneeled down to start picking up the sticks he'd dropped. He had set his phone down on the ground facing down. The flashlight was shining bright, lighting up his immediate surroundings.

"Hmm," the Red Man said.

Jeremy hadn't heard what he said. But when he looked up and over to his left, the man was no longer there. Checking all around him, he found no sign of the man. It's like he just vanished into thin air. Could it be Jeremy was hallucinating?

"Good talk," Jeremy mumbled as he picked his phone up, turning the flashlight off. Beginning to walk in the direction of the beach, the trees continued to creak and sway. Leaves rustled in the wind. Deer were heard chirping nearby as they ran amok. Birds' flapped their wings vigorously as they flew about. Woodpeckers pecked away at the outer tree bark.

The sky was clear, the moon is a crescent shape. While heading back to camp, he had walked past something he had missed earlier; an effigy. One decapitated head was resting on top of a stick. Four rocks were on the ground around the stick, keeping it somewhat upright. It had poor craftsmanship. With the head on top, there were four amputated arms. The head and arms were a pale grey color. Flies were flying around it. As he got nearer to it, a foul smell made him nauseous. Little by little, he was starting to make sense of what was happening on the island.

Hundreds of stories and rumors had been spreading around the web, reporting on what was happening on the island. The United States government had forbidden all travel. By forbidding transport to the island, the number of people venturing to the island dropped dramatically. While many sided with the government, there were still those who wanted to come out. Hence why Jeremy and his friends had come here.

Wanting to experience the island for themselves, they'd hoped to prove the stories and rumors false. They all had one mission: to prove that no harm was being done. To show the world that the island was safe and that the stories weren't true. This was their way of accomplishing that.

Fog had begun moving in off of the ocean, quickly covering the area in a thick blanket of fog. Visibility dropped drastically. Having the flashlight on, made seeing where he was going more difficult. He slipped his phone back into his pocket, proceeding to walk back to the beach. Jeremy wanted to believe that the effigy was just a way of scaring visitors away.

"Yo, Jeremy," Woody shouted, "where ya at?"

"Coming," he shouted.

As he began walking back to the beach, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Looking to his left, he saw what appeared to be a statue of some sort. As he approached it, he saw that it wasn't a statue but a pole with something on top of it. There was a foul smell to it when he got closer. The faint sounds of flies buzzing around could be heard.

He took a deep breath in and held his breath. He covered his mouth with his hand as he examined the pole. At the top of it, there was a decapitated pale head. At the pole's base, there were four bloody rocks. They were what was keeping the pole standing upright. A tennis ball was shoved into the mouth of the victim. Just below the head, there were six arms tied to the post too. Maggots were crawling on all of the arms, slowly eating away at what was left of the flesh. Jeremy wanted to vomit.

"Hey guys," Jeremy said, "I don't think we're welcomed here."

"Don't be a pussy, Jeremy. This was your idea," Talen shouted.

"Yeah, yeah. Okay," Jeremy mumbled as he began slowly backing away from the effigy. He had bumped into something. He froze as the thing he had bumped into began huffing and puffing heavily. Slowly reaching into his pocket to grab his phone again, he shined the flashlight up at what he bumped into.

It was no man, nor a tree. It wasn't an animal or boulder. It appears to be made out of 3 bodies. It has six arms, deformed legs, backward feet, and a tentacle-like limb, possibly the umbilical cord. It doesn't have a head or any facial features. But it does have a slit down its frontal end that was open.

"Shit," Jeremy said as he dropped his phone and the sticks. He booked it for the beach, with the Armsy on his tail. Running as fast as he could, the Armsy was gaining on him, swinging his arms back and forth. ROAR!

Talen, Woody, and Joseph froze and stopped what they were doing. They all looked over in the direction of where Jeremy was heard. Woody, who was waiting on Jeremy to bring back some firewood, stood up. Talen was cooking dinner on the grill they had brought along. Joseph was searching through different suitcases scattered on the beach.

"RUN!" Jeremy shouted, "RUN!"

When they saw Armsy charge out of the fog close behind Jeremy, that's when they recognized the danger they had put themselves in. They all started running north, abandoning the camp. Talen, Woody, and Joseph all had a good distance between themselves and the Armsy.

Talen looked back over his shoulder to see if Jeremy was widening the gap between him and the mutant. But what he saw, were two male cannibals. Their skin was grey, and far more muscular than the other cannibals the guys had read about before coming here. They had a general idea of what could happen while camping here for the weekend, but they never thought anything like this would happen so soon. Not even a full night here and they're already being chased by mutants and cannibals. This must be the islands way of welcoming new visitors.

"Keep going!" Jeremy shouted, "go fas–," he continued as he was then attacked by one of the grey cannibals. They were far faster than the Armsy, making them just as dangerous as the mutants. When Talen looked back over his shoulder again, he saw Jeremy being beaten by the two grey cannibals. The Armsy had stopped pursuing them when Jeremy was taken down.

"Jeremy's down!" Talen shouted ahead to Woody and Joseph. But they ignored him and kept running. Running up a steep hill, they would soon be out of sight of the cannibals and Armsy. Talen stopped running, but Woody and Joseph did not.

There was nothing much Talen could do to save his friend. He had no weapons or anything to defend himself with. Should've packed a weapon or tool of some sort, huh? Jeremy was knocked unconscious by the cannibals. His face was full of blood, as were the bodies of the cannibals and Armsy.

One of the cannibals had a club with the head of a victim at the top of it. He grabbed that and began pounding Jeremy's face in with every hit he delivered. His skull cracked and his face caved in. Bits and pieces of his brain exited from his broken skull. The other cannibal was yanking and tugging on Jeremy's right leg. They were ripping him limb from limb, taking body parts they wanted with them. Once Jeremy's head was smashed, his right leg was ripped clean from his body, as were his left leg and both arms. Only his chest and head remained on the beach.

Talen was horrified by what he had just seen. As he stood there processing what had just happened, a hand grabbed his right shoulder. He turned around so fast, that he startled the man standing behind him. He was wearing armor made out of bones from head to toe. He had long brown hair and brown eyes. He was wearing a blue and black checkered shirt, and jeans with heavy-duty, steel-toe boots. He had his backpack on his back and a metal ax in his hand.

"The hell do you think you're doing, son?" The man said, "are ya trying to get yourself killed? C'mon. Come with me."

The man turned around and began sprinting back up the hill. Talen followed him up to the top of the hill where Woody and Joseph were standing around. They were out of breath and shaken up by what happened.

"Number one rule of survival: always have a weapon to defend yourself," the man said, "what the hell were you guys doing out in the open?"

"Who the fuck are you?" Joseph questioned, asking in a snotty rude tone of voice.

"I'm the man you'll want to have around," the man said.

"We didn't ask for your help," Woody mentioned.

"Noted," the man said, "it's not safe. Come, my base is this way."