Imagine the Grand Fusion of Four Parallel Realities!
The Toughest Fight is the one with your own Self!
Will Amelia-The past self survive or Cecilia-The Eternal self will thrive?
NOUREEN JAN
This book has been published with all reasonable efforts taken to make the material error-free after the consent of the author. No part of this book shall be used, reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
The Author of this book is solely responsible and liable for its content including but not limited to the views, representations, descriptions, statements, information, opinions and references "Vicious Demonic Bellicose". The Content of this book shall not constitute or be construed or deemed to reflect the opinion or expression of the Publisher or Editor. Neither the Publisher nor Editor endorse or approve the Content of this book or guarantee the reliability, accuracy or completeness of the Content published herein and do not make any representations or warranties of any kind, express or implied, including but not limited to the implied warranties of merchantability, fitness for a particular purpose. The Publisher and Editor shall not be liable whatsoever for any errors, omissions, whether such errors or omissions result from negligence, accident, or any other cause or claims for loss or damages of any kind, including without limitation, indirect or consequential loss or damage arising out of use, inability to use, or about the reliability, accuracy or sufficiency of the information contained in this book.
This book is dedicated to my incredible sister. She's not just strong, kind, and forgiving, but she constantly blows my mind. She taught me about love, discipline, kindness, and patience. I can't thank her enough for believing in me and loving me no matter what. In this chaotic world, she's the one I'd always choose to have by my side. Thanks to her encouragement, I'm reaching for my dreams.
Going on to survive the day,
What future I might say
When life will be like may,
Full of God's blessings and hay,
Down my Sis and I lay,
Hoping for such a day.
- NJ-
"Facing the challenges of each day, I wonder about the future. What will life be like? Hopefully, it'll be filled with blessings. As my sister and I lay down, we're hopeful for a better day to come."
Contents
Foreword
Disclaimer
Note: Dictionary
Preface
Acknowledgments
Terrible Fate
Devil- The Fallen Angel
Prologue.
Her Speech At The End Of The Session.
1. Triple Trouble Together
2. Triple Trouble Together (II)
3. Belial and Shroudian
4. The SAE Took Over
5. Pure Being and Aeon Book
6. 2016: Troubled Jitter
7. The Relentless Depredation
Epilogue: VDB Volume 2
Lost Love
Dictionary
About The Author
Foreword:
Welcome to the VDB, a captivating tale crafted by my sister. While she's the sole human author behind this mysterious narrative, the uncanny coincidences scattered through its creation are impossible to ignore. Sometimes, she didn't consciously connect all the dots, yet it's as if fate stepped in. Take, for instance, when she casually mentioned a location, only to later realize it perfectly aligned with the mysterious Bermuda Triangle. Another instance found her sketching a kite shape in her mind, only to discover that the chosen locations, when mapped out, mirrored her imagination flawlessly.Whether these occurrences are mere chance or destiny at play, I'll leave to your interpretation. Nonetheless, from firsthand experience, the process of crafting of this book is as eerie as the book itself!
VDB transcends the boundaries of convectional storytelling; it's a thought-provoking exploration of the inexplicable phenomena surrounding us. It's a testament to Noureen Jan's boundless imagination, blending genres seamlessly — romance, mystery, horror, suspense, dark fantasy and many more — offering something for every reader.
Yet, beyond its spellbinding narrative, VDB serves as a mirror, reflecting on our actions through the lens of morality. It imparts profound lessons embedded within its diverse genres — lessons of friendship, love, family, empathy, and the essence of life itself.
Lastly, to my sister, I extend my heartfelt pride in her remarkable talent and wish her boundless success.
With love,
Masooma Jan
20th Feburary, 2024
Disclaimer:
The literary work titled VDB, authored by Noureen Jan, is officially registered under the Copyright Act of 1957 by the Government of India.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the exploration of sensitive themes and emotions within the narrative. Reader discretion is advised as the content may include depictions of distress, emotional turmoil, and challenging situations. The intention is to provide a thought-provoking and engaging experience, not to endorse or condone any particular beliefs, actions, or behaviors.
Real-life world settings and locations are incorporated into the novel to enhance its authenticity and provide a relatable backdrop. While these settings may be inspired by actual places, they are creatively interpreted for the purpose of the story.
Readers are encouraged to approach the novel with an open mind and understanding of the fictional nature of the story. The author does not take responsibility for any interpretations or emotions elicited by the content.
This novel does not serve as professional advice, and readers facing personal challenges are encouraged to seek appropriate guidance from qualified professionals.
By reading this novel, you agree to release the author from any liability arising from your interpretation or reaction to the content. The author appreciates your understanding and hopes you find enjoyment and contemplation within the pages of this fictional work.
Note: Dictionary
To assist readers in navigating the narrative, a dictionary containing definitions of challenging words used throughout the novel is provided at the end. This resource is intended to enhance the reading experience by offering clarity on vocabulary that may be unfamiliar.
Feel free to reference it as needed to clarify the distinctions within the narrative. Happy reading! Enjoy the story!
Preface:
In the mystic realm of eternity and the shadowy dance between the material and the ethereal, Noureen Jan pens a tale inspired by the chilling belief in the devil, black magic, devil summoning, demonic cult, demonic sacrifices, and the twisted arts of demonology. As these malevolent practices surge in popularity across the globe, their impact disturbs the delicate balance of both the tangible and the eternal worlds.
To some, these tales of omen talismans/amulets, hair and photos entwined with meat, eerie dolls suspended from trees or hanging out of the window, and verses recited to forcefully bind souls, possessing for humilation purposes or creating bad reputation, things they proclaim to derail, fortune telling and alteration of fates, fooling people around with their demonic cult, drinking or mixing of evil or good verses of Holy Books or related books, seeking cure and children from such practices, etc. may sound superstitious, mythical, or unbelievable. Yet, the author, a witness to such practices, unveils a world where demonic cults thrive, fortune is toyed with, and the boundaries between good and evil blur. From humiliating possessions to altering fates, the novel explores the dark arts that echo in the recesses of reality.
Things in which humans have been indulging at increased numbers, from anywhere in this world, everyone is well aware of all the things that are related to such kind of practices, some do it for protecting themselves from other's evil witchcraft and blackmagic, some do it to harm people they hold grudges for, some do it to get the love of their beloved, some do it to become rich and famous, some do it to protect their graves, some may do such things to see others around them suffer, some do it to cure diseases, and some do it to bring deceased back, etc. Whatever the reason is, it disturbs the nature of the both world, the material world and the eternal world.
The question lingers: are these practices real, or are they merely illusions? Regardless, humans find themselves bound by the laws of God, and disturbing the peace of both worlds invites doom and regret. As characters navigate through a tapestry woven with devilish deeds, the novel serves as a fantasy reflection on the gritty reality of demonic cults, alternating between eternity and materiality.
Motivated by a subconscious desire to explore the absolute alteration of fate through demonic practices, Noureen Jan urges readers to steer clear of the abyss that can ruin lives in both realms. The narrative weaves a compelling tale, linking actions, reactions, and behaviors of characters to the dark forces that guide their destinies. In a world steeped in pain, the author encourages protection, kindness, and a revival of humanity, as the novel unfolds a storyline both fascinating and potentially grounded in truth.
While the author faced countless obstacles in completing this tome swiftly, faith and hope persevered, promising a fruitful end to this gripping tale.
As the pages turn, remember:
"Be aware of such practices, for they are wielded by those you least expect."
In a world often perceived as fairytales, this novel boldly declares:
"We see this world as fairytales but this world is where demons slay!"
Noureen Jan
Feb 2024
Acknowledgments:
I would like to extend my deepest gratitute to Almighty for everything I am blessed with, for his help in the struggling times and giving me such a family to rely on.
I'd also like to express my deepest thanks to my family who always supported, encouraged and believed in my dream. Writing a book is harder than I thought and more rewarding than I could have ever imagined. None of this would have been possible without my sister to whom I'm eternally grateful.
I'd equally express my heartiest thanks to the premier 'Readers'. You know how it is, you pick up a book, flip to the dedication and find that, the author has dedicated a book to someone else and not you. Not this time, this one's for you as well-Readers (Visionaries).
This novel would not have been possible without the people who indulge in demonic activities, rituals and practices that helped me a lot to create some sense out for this storyline.
Terrible Fate:
Let me tell you a story, it may not be all fantasy but the ultimate reality about how vengeful, blind, aggressive, jealous and wild love makes. Maybe these words didn't make any sense but love always does, right?
In the shadow of a tumultuous past and an uncertain future, she grappled with the relentless force of love—a tempest that rendered reason senseless and blinded her to the perils that lay ahead. Born into a toxic family, forsaken and starved of affection, her heart became a willing victim to love's notions.
Amidst regrettable choices and the haunting wraith of a tragic fate, she remained oblivious, possessed by the spirit of her own immortal self. Accused of unraveling the peace that had endured for millennia, she stood defiant, her head held high. An encounter with an angelic being questioned her disruptive choices, awakening the master of the universe from his slumber.
Night after night, sleep paralysis, false awakenings, and harrowing nightmares plagued her soul, leaving her sister desperate and confused who sent her to a mental session for recovery, the true cause remained shrouded in mystery.
Her prayers, a blend of desperation and blame, echoed through the void. Little did she know that her destiny would twist and turn until she found solace in the chaos, uttering, "I am satisfied!" Yet, a terrible fate loomed, denying her the peace she sought and unleashing pandemonium upon her.
Her Immortal self, a catalyst for war chosen by devils and a savior appointed by angels, revealed a destiny entwined with the enigmatic Hell blood. The Shatnolic AE liquid, illegally supplied, and Zachariah Seth's grave held the keys to summoning and separating humanity from eternity.
What else is to be revealed and made clearer if all what you know for now is that she is the special- one and only cause of the war chosen by the Devils as well as the one responsible for stopping the war from engulfing the world with ethereal dominance as chosen by the Angels.
When Kristopher unraveled the cosmic reality, the question hung in the air: would she survive, or would her eternal self thrive? The mystery of Hell blood lingered—was it to forge a demonic army or fortify mankind? The Bermuda Triangle, a beacon of hope, raised the stakes, testing the readiness of Angels.
Aeon Book, bound by drops of her hot blood, promised to unveil the secrets of the universe—interconnected worlds, Bermuda's enigma, memories, and the vessel. Yet, as the dots connected, would Old Nick, the harbinger of darkness, be prepared for the revelations? Cecilia's declaration, "With due respect, even Old Nick is a fake!" echoed, a cryptic message with untold significance.
The Aeon Book's representation of the world mirrored hidden connections within unsolved mysteries. With each exploration, the balance of worlds teetered on the edge of transformation. When Hell blood surged, she faced a pivotal choice—between the love of her life and eternal self poised to conquer, or the love of God, redemption, and the embrace of friends and family.
As the narrative unfolded, the stage was set for a captivating journey through love, destiny, and the uncharted realms of existence, where every choice held the power to reshape the very fabric of reality.
"Bermuda Triangle is yet another hope but are the Angels ready for so?"
Devil- The Fallen Angel:
In the realm of chaos and mundane struggles, the pivotal question emerges: in the face of adversity, who will you lean on? As the tapestry of reality unfolds, revealing both the hues of prosperity and the shadows of grudge and jealousy, the choice to stand by God or blame Him becomes a profound reflection of one's true colors.
Yet, lurking in the shadows is the orchestrator of doubt and discord—the Devil. A master manipulator, he weaves a narrative that blames God for the twists of fate, ensnaring those who succumb to the allure of despair. Little do they realize that beyond hardship lies the promise of a bountiful future, where resilience births kindness, love, and compassion.
For the accusers, God's offerings persist—food, opportunities, and chances for repentance. Yet, the Devil, in his cunning manner, leads them astray, diverting their gaze from the miraculous nature and boundless love that equals that of a mother seventy fold. We navigate this labyrinth warned of the fallen angel, Satan, whose lustful desires drive humanity to madness and pave the way to hell. We are in our lifetime always warned about the Satan or The Devil, his lustful desires that drive madness and wildness of human out and evil intentions that clear our tickets to the hell. Many are there who doubt his existence or question about such existence. Doubters may question his existence, but it is when consequences unfold that they turn to blame him for their own actions.
Humans are very well aware of things prohibited and permitted but yet when desires get best of them; they end up doing evil deeds and sorcery.
Across religions, he bears different names – Satan, Iblis, Lucifer, Asuras, Mara, Angra Mainyu – yet his malevolent essence remains unchanged. Different religions call him different names but the doing is same. In ancient tales, the Devil wielded two ropes, one thin and the other thick, capturing souls in his malevolent clutches to wreak havoc in both earthly and heavenly realms. In this modern age, where science holds the reins of mastery and destruction, the Devil, armed with a sinister kit of only 5 thread rolls, capitalizes on technological advances to seamlessly ensnare hearts in his web of malevolence.
But why does the Devil exist? Once an angel, he reveled in worship and basked in spiritual tranquility until he spiraled into the depths of malevolence. A fallen angel, expelled from the heavens before the creation of the material world, now wages a relentless war against God. The Devil aims to tarnish God's prized creation – humankind – by enticing them into the labyrinth of worldly desires.
In this cosmic clash, the Devil and humanity engage in a timeless battle, a challenge to choose between faith in the divine or enslavement to the malevolent. As the threads of destiny unfurl, the choice lies with you – will it be the delicate dance of a thread roll, the insidious grip of a thin rope, or the formidable strength of a thick rope? The tapestry of fate awaits, and the choice is eternally yours.
Prologue:
In the enigmatic tapestry of existence, Amelia, the visionary creator of Shatnolic AE Liquid, awakens to a nightmarish reality. Accused of orchestrating macabre murders involving melted human bodies, she grapples with fragmented memories of her eternal self. As the veil between worlds thins, she faces a dire choice – will the echoes of her past self defy the accusations, or will the malevolent force within her succumb to eternal evil? When she received the memories of actions of her eternal self, will she, the past self oppose or will the eternal evil self decimate?
A haunting curse, whispered through the ages by the enigmatic Seth, looms ominously. ""The time will surely come and that time will be horrifying to those who crucify the devil in their God-Ridden hearts and such hearts will burn in the chest by the hell fire for that is the only resuscitate cure of The Almighty Daemon."
Against a backdrop of blackened ashes, burnt hearts, and veins pulsating with ominous black and red hues, Amelia, accompanied by steadfast friends, embarks on a quest to unravel the mysteries encoded within the sacred 'AEON BOOK.' This mystical tome, residing in the Collided World, holds the key to understanding the disrupted harmony of four coexisting realms.
To unlock the arcane knowledge, Amelia must venture into the heart of the Collided World, dripping her blood on the threshold. Yet, the challenge extends beyond mere exploration. The real deal demands not just reading the Aeon Book but retaining its revelations in the material world— a task bordering on the impossible. With her soul detached from her body in the Collided World, imprinting memories on her earthly brain becomes an elusive feat but the actual challenge is to read the book in the Collided world while being in the Devil-Deal for the same.
The facts stated in the Aeon Book is something very relatable in real life settings that is the mystery of Bermuda Triangle and other triangles that are known for mysterious disappearances of cruises and planes.
As the narrative unfolds, the stakes heighten, and the race against the encroaching evil intensifies. Amelia must navigate the treacherous terrain of forgotten memories, or risk the malevolent forces within her prevailing. In this gripping prologue, the stage is set for a tale where the line between reality and the supernatural blurs, and the battle for salvation commences.
In this volume of the VDB series, every turn of the page reveals new mysteries and suspense, promising answers and revelations that await in the next instalment of the volume.
"She has to find the way to recall the memories otherwise the evil may succeed!"
Her Speech At The End Of The Session:
In the dimly lit room, shadows danced as the girl in the chair turned to face the camera, her eyes piercing through the lens. With a voice that echoed with both vulnerability and strength, she challenged, "Which poem has gripped your soul, made your mind question fate in this world of materiality and eternity, Which poem has been an inspiration or touched your heart explicitly?"
A profound silence hung In the air as she continued, "In the world of materiality and eternity, which or what character or role will you play, won't that depend on your emotions, maturity and power of desire? I'll share lines from a poem close to my heart—a reflection of my life. Dive deep into each verse to unearth the raw emotions within."
She inhaled deeply, and with a voice as soft as a whisper, she recited:
"Tell me a good story,
Let me once sleep at peace,
I have already seen so much,
I further can't take anymore…"
The words floated in the room, weaving a tapestry of pain, regret, and the struggle for redemption. Her confession continued, a rhythmic cadence revealing the wounds etched in her soul.
"As the pain increased, heart ached, and brain felt numb, in that moment, who will come to your mind?" she questioned passionately. "Isn't that person you rely on, you love the most, or is close to your heart?"
In the crescendo of her revelations, she laid bare the intricacies of her existence. "In such moments, we truly understand how blessed or cursed we are. I don't know about myself, how I ended up having a fate that no one around me or far away will ever have."
Between the blurred lines of reality and illusion, she spoke of self-discovery, a journey trapped between two worlds—the material and the eternal. The room pulsated with the weight of her words.
"Consider yourself dead when you know you've been the reason for doom," she declared, the room holding its breath. "I can't explain what happened past that year, but I've been better, and this session has been my lifeline during this hard time. I wish same for all the people here who comes in hope of becoming better and best version of themselves, we are different and we deserve it and much better. Once again, thank you! "
Her eyes met those of the girl standing at the door, tears glistening, applauding pride and relief. The circle of people around, once silent witnesses erupted into applause, wishing luck to all.
As the recording ended, the screen plunged into darkness. The finality echoed—a poignant conclusion to a chapter of raw, unfiltered revelations.
Tell me a good story,
Let me once sleep at peace,
I have already seen so much,
I further can't take anymore,
Unexpected things has happened,
Mostly had to deal with it,
Softly I whispered to myself,
Is that what I deserve,
Hardly that I pushed myself,
To take that one step,
I assumed it will be easy,
Only if now I would agree,
Main part has already passed,
Yet little details aches my heart,
No! I won't say it was anyone's fault,
When most of it was mine,
Things that I see at nights,
Comes creeping out of dark corners,
Maybe it's just the things,
I someday made in my head,
Yet does feel like a reality,
No complaints that I can raise,
Fake people I once believed,
The way they lied about me,
To make me feel paranoid,
Memories hold dark grudges,
Mind plans for the revenge,
keeping things together is my only try,
Never to say a separation goodbye,
Let relations never break is my dream,
Stupid me to trust eternal being,
Foolish steps towards them I took,
Still regret the day of my heart falling,
Never blamed about my love failing,
The most it makes me blessed,
In the world of chores and chaos,
Who would you choose by your side?
-NJ-
1. Triple Trouble Together
"Part One"
"A terrible tempest came,
Our lives didn't remain the same,
In my life, why these miseries,
I am facing difficult calamities."
At 7C Street of Magribian City, Boston, on that strangely eerie night, outside the SAE department of Occult Laboratories, as the clock struck three, the ominous black car crept to a halt, its sleek frame poised at the left corner. Within, shadowed figures meticulously honed their strategy, dissecting the elements with calculated precision, rationalized the situation, counted the number of guards at the check post of the laboratory and then a hulking figure emerged, muscles rippling beneath taut skin, his grip unwavering as he yanked the safety pin from the Frag Grenade. With an otherworldly might, he hurled the explosive into the Occult Laboratories. The Grenade soared with an uncanny swiftness, shattering the concrete upon impact, unleashing a cacophony of chaos that sent guards rushing towards the detonation. Meanwhile, the boss, undeterred, punched digits into his smartphone, urgency tainting his voice as he barked orders down the line to hurriedly carry on with the preplanned machination-shrouded in secrecy, was now swiftly unfurling. As the call ended, the boss undeterred by the escalating situation, cranked up the volume on the radio, infusing the vehicle with the thumping rhythms of hip hop and sick beats. Each man felt the music reverberate within, caught up in the pulsating vibe, belting out lyrics together, eagerly awaiting the imminent damnation.
Outside, an eerie stillness enveloped the street, shrouded in an unsettling calmness. In the distance, dogs echoed haunting howls, their cries carrying an uncanny presentiment, as if they sensed the forthcoming shift, a moment of eternal significance that the world had yet to bear witness to. The cold mist, an ethereal accomplice, swept through the empty street, coaxing dry leaves to dance a ghostly whirl along the street. The men cinched their scarves tightly, putting on the masks meticulously crafted in the likeness of the infamous movie, 'Unguis Ripped.' These crimson visages, adorned with jagged black claw marks, veiled their identities entirely; save for the menacing jaws that remained unmistakably visible. The stage was set, the atmosphere thick with an ominous tension, as they awaited the unfolding of an event destined to imprint itself into the chronicles of history.
In the blink of an eye, a colossal truck thundered down the street, its chained tires and spiked wheels carving a frenzied path towards the SAE department. The metallic spikes clashed against the wall, clattering against the wire protection perched atop. Below, the road's surface filled with upfront spikes fought back, but the merciless tires relentlessly mangled every protruding obstacle, waging a relentless battle until the wall finally succumbed to the constant onslaught, crumbling piece by piece as the truck careened back and forth.
As chaos unfolded, the symphony of destruction attracted the attention of vigilant security guards. With guns blazing, they unleashed a hailstorm of bullets toward the truck's windshield, aiming with desperate precision at the driver. Just as the truck surged forward, poised to breach the Occult Laboratory's defenses, a chilling twist of fate intervened. The concertina coil, a sinister barrier, lashed out, shattering the windshield into a spider web of fractured glass. Its razors, hungry for vengeance, found their mark, embedding deep into the truck driver's face. Amidst the cacophony of destruction and the frenetic dance of danger, a chilling silence descended as the truck's advance faltered, the driver's fate now ensnared by the chilling embrace of the concertina's razor-sharp embrace.
Amidst the dripping blood, the truck driver, unbothered by wounds, hastily retrieved a metal wire cutter from the glove compartment, slicing through the concertina wire closer to his mangled face. As bullets peppered the shattered windshield, piercing his shoulders and grazing his ear, an eerie calmness enveloped him, an absence of pain or emotion. With determined resolve, the truck surged onward, mercilessly crushing the security guards beneath its monstrous wheels, the spikes and chained tires inflicting gruesome injuries upon impact. Executing a swift and deafening U-turn, the driver unleashed a cacophony of screeching tires, retrieving an assault rifle from the elongated glove compartment. Through the shattered windshield, a hail of bullets found their mark, cutting down the dwindling number of guards, painting the scene in a gruesome composition of destruction. As the area lay scattered with lifeless bodies and the ranks of security guards decreased, a sinister transformation took shape. With a decisive flick, truck driver struck on a red button on the dashboard that made the red LED blink ominously within the confines of the black car. Four shadowy figures emerged, the echoes of a song still lingering, seamlessly merging with the unfolding criminal saga, a convergence of calculated chaos and chilling determination.
In the midst of chaos, a unyielding stream of guards flooded the area, a desperate attempt to halt the advancing criminals. The truck driver, fueled by a chilling determination, left a trail of crushed bodies in his wake, driving away from the laboratory's confines. Meanwhile, the masked men engaged in a fervent exchange of gunfire with the incoming guards, each side driven by a passionate enthusiasm to either defend or destroy. The boss, a commanding presence amidst the destruction, beckoned a nerdy companion to join him, casting a swift glance at his wristwatch, issuing a stark reminder of their time constraints. With each passing second, Boss and Nerdy companion navigated through the treacherous maze of surveillance, bullets finding their marks in the hearts of the guards inside the laboratory, leaving a trail of fallen adversaries while two thieves stayed back to fight the cops. Swift and calculated, Boss and nerdy man infiltrated different cabinets, a menacing warning on their lips as they coerced the night-shift workers into silence, coercing compliance with the ominous threat of death. In a synchronized dance of danger, they disabled alarm systems; ensuring silence would cloak their movements. With nerves of steel and hearts pounding in the darkness, they meticulously executed their mission, the ticking clock serving as an ominous reminder of the looming deadline.
In a whirlwind, the team swiftly discarded their black bags, a collective force compelling the trembling employees to hurriedly pack an array of scientific treasures. Chemicals, test tubes, records, files, samples of experimental flora and fauna—all were hastily stuffed into the awaiting bags, alongside specialized tools of the trade: microscopes, beakers, crucibles, pipettes, and a myriad of intricate instruments. The boss, with a menacing grip on the personal assistant, marched through the lobbies of the laboratory, each step echoing with urgency. Their destination: the lavish enclave of Miss Amelia Louishall, her cabin exuded wealth and status, adorned with a flat-screen TV, plush couches, and an imposing glass table adorned with vital documents and a gleaming laptop. The personal assistant, guided by instinct, made a direct route for a portrait, the boss looming close, displaying a firearm with unwavering determination. With a proficient motion, the assistant removed the portrait, revealing a concealed high-tech digital locker, its secrets tantalizingly veiled behind the portrait of a demonic figure. A breathless hush descended as the boss's firm gaze bore into the assistant's determined hands, the tension perceptible in the air as they hovered on the brink of unlocking a hidden trove of secrets.
In a tense moment, the personal assistant's trembling fingers traced the intricate pattern of the password, "CeCiLiAGeNeSiS666," hesitatingly unlocking the digital vault. As the lock yielded, she retreated, leaving the boss to wear oven mittens with utmost care, extracting from the vault-the ominous, fat Boston Round Glass Bottles, each stopper sealing a sinister, dark-blackish hot blood.
A blaring siren pierced the air, signaling the arrival of the backup, the distant wail echoed- a haunting reminder of impending consequences. The law enforcement's plea for surrender rang out, promising a merciful resolution. Yet, the two thieves, undeterred, unleashed a relentless onslaught, bullets spewing from their rifles like a whirling storm. The machine gun set to auto-fire, the deafening chorus of bullets punctuated by the rhythm of their assault rifles, each round aimed with deadly precision. In a twist of fate, the thieves encountered an incomprehensible opponent in the SAE guards and cops. They witnessed the seemingly impossible resurrection of the fallen, as bodies torn into bits by the truck's rampage reassembled, broken parts realigned, and, astonishingly, they rose to renew the fight. During the chaos, one of the thieves let out a chilling chuckle, his voice cutting through the destruction, "I can do this all night, Murphy!"
In the heart of the escalating machination, a chilling realization dawned—the battle had taken an otherworldly turn, a relentless clash between unstoppable forces locked in an eerie dance of life and death. In a chilling exchange, Murphy scoff was met with an evil grin as he resembled the scene to a zombie shooting game, observing the relentless resurrection of their opponents, each bullet hit seemingly ineffective against the determined guards and cops.
Then he said, "I feel like we are in the zombie shooting game, Hannett. Take a look at them; they are getting back up again and again after every shot like zombies."
Hannett's grim words echoed with a sense of finality, highlighting the ineffectiveness of the protective gear the defenders wore. "Bulletproof jackets and helmets won't save them," he uttered ominously. "The bleeding will be their demise."
The defenders fought valiantly, their resolve unyielding, but the thieves' assault persisted, bullets mercilessly finding their marks. In a surreal turn, the SAE guards demonstrated an inexplicable resilience, their unique abilities stemming from an otherworldly source. Each wound, no matter how grave, was swiftly tended to, halting the bleeding and infusing them with an inexplicable vitality. Yet, the unyielding barrage of gunfire claimed lives, a tragic toll on those who couldn't withstand the onslaught.
Amid the brutality, a harrowing sight unfolded—the thieves hit by 6 bullets, seemingly impervious to pain, methodically removed the bullets by engraving sharp pocket knife in the wound, their actions devoid of any sign of distress. With chilling efficiency, their wounds healed on their own, the wounds sealing shut without a hint of discomfort.
Gathering the loot, the boss delegated to the employees, using them not only as servants but as human shields, a sinister tactic to fend off the encircling cops. Backs pressed together, they stood as a formidable wall, and the employees unwittingly caught in the crossfire as the cops closed in, both sides locked in a deadly standoff. More and more cops took cover, trying to save their lives as if their life depended on that, as for now it did because they started to loss the blood with each newer bullet hit even though backed by SAE. In the dimly lit back street of laboratory, one of the employees cautiously peeled back the dusty sheet from the sleek, parked car, following the direct orders of merciless boss. With great precision, the stolen goods were carefully loaded into the vehicle, each item handled with an eerie devotion.
Suddenly, the warnings of law enforcement echoed again, their voices commanding in the tense atmosphere but the employees, unperturbed by the looming threat, remained resolute in their task of loading the van with stolen stuff as directed by the Boss, their nerves of steel matching their unyielding dedication. A drastic turn unfolded as the officers, aiming for the best shot at stopping the criminal operation, fired without hesitation. However, the thieves, unbothered by the danger, countered with a chilling warning, their resolve unshaken as they swiftly steered into the car, igniting the engine and racing away from the scene. Inside the getaway vehicle, nestled mildly on the dashboard, was a button akin to the one found on a truck. As if guided by instinct, the nerdy thief's finger pressed the button, triggering a distinct beep that emanated from the pockets of the two others engrossed in a gunfight with the law enforcement at laboratory, an intense signal signaling their successful departure from the Occult laboratory.
The screech of tires spread at the twilight of Magribian City, police sirens- an angry swarm chasing the criminal vehicle. Inside the getaway vehicle, blood painted across the leather seats and Boss fought through the pain- a bullet lodged like a traitorous guest. Beside him, Edwin, the "nerdy" one, his fingers danced a ballet of grim precision. With a flick of his wrist, a glint of metal materialized in the fading light- A pocket knife, honed by desperation and whispered knowledge, transformed into a surgeon's scalpel. He worked with grim focus, extracting the leaden intruders: from Boss's bicep and belly, and from his own chest, a dark blossom threatening to bloom. Each pull elicited a groan, a hiss, but Boss, eyes burning with determination, held on. The chase raged on, a ballet of bullets, every cop car that dared join the macabre whirl received its unwelcome invitation – a hail of bullets from Boss and Edwin's revolver. Half an hour of this infernal tango, hearts drumming a frantic counterpoint to the symphony of destruction, brought them around the Magribian City's cinema district. Dusk's veil had fully surrendered to night, neon signs painting the scene in garish hues. As they roared past the towering billboards, Edwin's voice rasping barked "Now!" into a phone held tight.
Then, from a side street, a behemoth materialized- same monstrous truck, metal muscles tensed, thundered into the police pursuit. Steel shrieked against steel, glass raining down like confetti from a macabre celebration. Police cars spun, crumpled, tossed like rag dolls in a child's tantrum. Explosions erupted, orange flowers of flames blooming against the velvet sky- Shrieks and sirens painted the air with a chorus of chaos. In the evil storm, Edwin and Boss, battled and slipped away, swallowed by the dark alleys of Magribian City. Their escape, born of desperation and fueled by rage, had left a trail of destruction in its wake. Public property lay in smoking ruins, innocent lives bruised and broken. The city, teetering on the edge of panic, would point its accusing finger at the SAE Laboratory, at Miss Amelia Louishall, the woman who held the city's secrets closer than her own breath.
Hannett and Murphy, who were still fighting guards and cops back at the laboratory struggled to make their way back to the car parked around the street corner. They exchanged a wordless gesture, a flicker of steely resolve in their eyes. With a shared nod, they vaulted over the crumbling wall, bursting into the open street like phantoms emerging from the night. But the cops were no lambs to the slaughter. Their response was a storm of their own, bullets spitting from their guns like fireflies gone rogue. The air crackled with the danger, each bullet whispered a threat. The two weaved through the hail of bullets, a ballet of rebellion against the backdrop of chaos. Every step was a gamble, every breath a stolen moment. The car, a beacon of hope, waited agonizingly few feet away. Its engine rumbled impatiently, a metallic heartbeat urging them on. Hannett, his muscles screaming in protest, pumped another round into his gun. His aim, honed by countless firing, remained steady. Murphy emerged as a shadow flitting through the carnage, cleared a line of fire with a flying leap, his movements a poetry of violence. He reached the car, flung opened the door, with a final, desperate glance at Hannett, he dove inside, slamming the door shut just as a searing pain bloomed in his shoulder. The car lurched forward, tires spitting gravel as it screeched onto the street road. Hannett, a lone warrior amidst the gunfight, sprinted towards the fading taillights- the car. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to give up, to seek shelter in the shadows but his gaze, locked on the retreating car, held an unyielding firing gun. With a final, earth-shattering roar, he launched himself forward, a phoenix rising from the ashes of the gunfight. His leap, defying gravity and logic, landed his sprawling on the car's open back door. The doors slammed shut, and they were gone, swallowed by the darkness of the night, leaving behind the echoes of gunfire and the ghosts of fallen dreams.
And as the dust settled, a question hung heavy in the air: was this a desperate gambit for freedom, or a calculated strike at the heart of Magribian City's hidden truths? And in the shadows, Miss Amelia Louishall watched, her eyes like storm clouds, the answer a riddle hung in the lines of her face, waiting to be unraveled.
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In the heart of the destroyed 7C Street of Magribian City, the TV reporter, her voice charged with urgency, faced the camera, her eyes reflecting the intensity of the situation, "So, this was the CCTV footage of the theft that we received from our sources," she declared, her words slicing through the air like a blade. "It is clear that the thieves fought the cops inhumanly and fiercely."
A hush fell over the studio as she continued, "The inside security camera footage was not leaked by the laboratory; they are silent! The investigation has been ongoing, but what we can say for sure is that the thieves surely had used SAE." Her words hung in the air, a cryptic puzzle begging to be solved. With a flourish of determination, she revealed, "After we talked with one of the employees who witnessed the theft, they told us that the thieves only stole the laboratorial tools associated with the creation of SAE." The camera zoomed in, capturing every nuance of her expression as she conveyed the gravity of the situation. "Using this information, we can guess the intention of this theft," she hinted, a glimmer of anticipation dancing in her eyes. "But," she exclaimed, her voice tinged with curiosity and suspense, "we are really curious to know what Miss Amelia Louishall has to say about the incident." A pause, pregnant with anticipation, hung in the air. "She is not in town yet," she disclosed, a hint of mystery lingering in her tone. "That's all we know for now. Stay with us for more updates."
Suddenly, her attention shifted, her eyes widening in surprise. "Oh! Mr. Thomas R Martin is here," she announced, a spark of excitement infusing her voice. "Let's try to talk to him…sir?" Her voice trailed off as she attempted to approach him for insights, a question poised on her lips, hanging in the air, desperate to be answered amidst the whirlwind of paradox and intrigue.
In a modest living room, the hush of the morning was shattered by the sudden click of a remote. The channel changed, and on the second news channel, a woman reporter's voice cut through the air, charged with urgency and accusation. "After seeing such a violent act caught on the CCTV footage from 7C Street of Magribian City," she declared, her words tinged with a mix of shock and certainty, "where the thieves shot the cops to death emotionlessly." The girl watching leaned in, her eyes fixed on the screen as the woman on the news continued, her voice trembling with gravity. "It is disclosed that Miss Amelia Louishall—the owner and senior head consultant of the DNA and SAE department—can be held responsible for all of this." The weight of the accusation hung heavy in the air, a revelation that sent shockwaves through the room."In the CCTV footages," the woman on the screen pressed on, her words hitting like thunder, "one can see they were not bothered by the bullets that hit them." The gravity of the situation deepened as she delved into a chilling revelation. "It's not considered normal, as the public already knows that SAE, short for Shatnolic AE liquid, invented by Miss Amelia, allows cops to fight back inhumanly with eternal energy. They feel no pain, gain strength, and heal during such incidents."
The room fell into a tense silence as the woman's words sank in. "This SAE," she emphasized, her tone laden with intrigue and accusation, "is a world-famous strength builder, a healer, an inhuman energy creator triggered by blood loss. None could ever duplicate it or even make it except Miss Amelia." The girl's eyes widened in disbelief, the weight of the revelation sending shivers down her spine. The accusation against Miss Amelia Louishall, a figure revered for her groundbreaking creation, now stood under a cloud of suspicion and scrutiny. The room, once filled with quiet comfort, was now charged with uncertainty and a lingering sense of intrigue, leaving everyone spellbound in the wake of this shocking revelation.
Beside her, on the TV news channel, a man's voice sliced through the tension, his words laced with authority and skepticism. "This SAE," he began, his tone resolute, "is only supplied and distributed to different cop departments, security guards, and selective government officials." His voice echoed with incredulity as he posed a critical question, "Then the question that can be raised is: how did the thieves get their hands on the SAE when its supply is tightly controlled by the SAE department?" The room seemed to hold its breath as his words hung in the air, leaving an ominous silence in their wake. "It is known," he continued, his voice now tinged with a hint of accusation, "that Miss Amelia went to Brookline SAE department and might have arrived late last night." The implication was clear, casting shadows of doubt over Miss Amelia's actions and whereabouts. A sense of unease settled in the room, the tension immersed as the man's words resonated. "Also," he added, his tone heavy with expectation, "we expect the cops to answer for our safety." The weight of responsibility and the desperate need for answers lingered in the air, leaving everyone on edge, craving resolution in the face of uncertainty.
The TV screen went dark, the girl beside it tossing the remote on the couch with a frustrated gesture. Her mind swirled with thoughts, her heart pounding with concern. "God!" she muttered to herself, her voice laden with disbelief, "How can this girl sleep when so much is happening in her laboratory!" With determined steps, she made her way upstairs, the weight of the unfolding events pressing heavily on her mind, leaving her restless and eager for answers in the swirl of perplexity.
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The thieves, their footsteps muffled by the eerie silence, ventured deeper into the infamous, shadow-laden woods that loomed ominously on the outskirts of Magribian City. These woods, notorious for their dense, foreboding nature, held a sinister allure—a dark reputation gained through the stories and facts locked in the ink of countless best-selling non-fictional crime documentaries. Such legends woven by authors painted a canvas of dread, weaving tales of chilling incidents that stained the very soil beneath their feet. The government, driven by the harrowing tales and the imminent threat, imposed strict restrictions, shrouding these woods in an impenetrable veil, barring the public from wandering into the heart of this sinister domain. These woods, once a refuge for wicked minds, had become the subject of cautionary whispers, a forbidden sanctuary veiled by the shroud of security protocols. The emergence of the SAE-equipped law enforcement had dissuaded the common criminals, forcing them to flee this ominous territory. Yet, for those entangled in the world of SAE and its dark applications, these woods retained a magnetic pull—a haunting allure that beckoned the daring and the depraved.
Here, nestled among the twisted branches and the lurking shadows, the thieves sought refuge, drawn by the emptiness and scandal these woods held. For the infamous SAE criminals, it was an unspoken ritual—a pilgrimage to the heart of darkness, a daring venture into the belly of shame to uphold their name and keep the legend of these eerie woods breathing, pulsating with the whispered echoes of their vicious activities.
The black van lurched to a halt beside the black car that came in first. Moonlight, veiled by an ominous shroud of clouds, filtered through the dense canopy, casting spectral shadows that waved with every flicker of their flashlights. The crisp air buzzed with an undercurrent of tension, punctuated by the distant, mournful cry of wolves.
From the car emerged Boss, a figure of steely resolve cloaked in darkness. His gaze, sharp as a diamond's edge, scanned the surroundings, settling on the imposing presence of the warnings. Rusted metal gates, plastered with stark warnings – "Keep Out," "No Entry," "Government Property," "Trespassers Beware" – bore silent witness to their illicit incursion. The posts were peeled and the words could be barely read except the blood strains that could be guessed from feet away. The air, thick with the musky scent of damp earth and the distant chorus of wolves, held its breath as the four thieves, united by greed and adrenaline, gathered and picked up the stolen stuff and the boss carried the Blood filled bottles carefully as they were fragile and very vital. Boss, ever the predator, led the way, his flashlight carving a harsh path through the tangled undergrowth. Leaves, once vibrant, lay trampled underfoot, whispering secrets of their demise. Water, fat with the tears of ancient trees, dripped from gnarled branches, puddling on the muddy ground like spilled secrets. The forest, ancient and watchful, seemed to press in closer, its whispers morphing into the chilling howls of wolves, their hunger echoing the thieves' own. Each rustle of leaves, each snap of a twig, sent shivers down the nerdy thief's spine. His glasses, perpetually smudged with fear and anticipation, reflected the dancing beams of their flashlights, casting flickering shadows that danced like phantoms among the trees, ahead, the broken fence, a jagged scar against the night sky, loomed like a skeletal promise of escape. The forest, their unwilling accomplice, held its secrets close, waiting to see if these trespassers, these hunters of stolen moments, would outrun the darkness and the shadows that clung to their heels like hungry ghosts. This was no ordinary heist. This was a dance with the devil, a swirl through the teeth of a sleeping beast. And in the heart of the woods, where shadows whispered secrets and wolves howled their hunger, the fate of the four thieves hung precariously in the balance, poised on the razor's edge between triumph and oblivion.
Moonlight filtered through canopy, dappling the forest floor in an uneasy rhythm. The air crackled with tension, thicker than the clinging dew that beaded on Hannett's brow. Boss barked orders with the icy certainty of a winter frost. "Hannett," his voice resonated, each word a shard of ice, "strip the bark of that tree, Show us the Red Cross."
His fingers, nimble despite the tremor in his heart, dug into the rough bark. Layer by layer, the secrets of the woods peeled back, revealing a red cross sign beneath. This was it, the path to their destiny. These red cross where painted to lead them to their hideout within the shadows of the woods But something stood in front of their triumph. One of the thieves, Murphy, a jittery individual, kept glancing over his shoulder, a hunted animal in a predator's playground as he heard the heavy sounds of footsteps behind him. Each rustle of leaves, each whisper of wind, sent chills down his spine. With a startled yelp, he spun around, expecting pursuers, only to find the dense woods staring back, silent and mocking.
And with that, fate of the night shifted. A ghastly whoop, a bloodcurdling cry that twisted even the bravest gut, ripped through the trees. Wind howled, an eerie chorus chanting their doom. Heavy footsteps, rhythmic and deliberate, encircled them, closing in like an iron fist. Backs slammed together, a circle of fear forged in stolen gold and cold sweat. Guns, oiled instruments of desperation, materialized in trembling hands.
"Who's there?" Boss roared, his voice a cannon shot in the suffocating quiet that followed. The stolen loot, their hard-won prize, lay abandoned on the forest floor, fear gripped them and a beat of silence, heavy as a gravestone, stretched into eternity.
"Show yourselves!" Edwin snarled, voice cracking with a fear he couldn't hide. Silence, thick and suffocating, pressed down on them. Then, Boss's voice, colder than moonlight, cut through the stillness. "If you don't want to die a torturous death, show yourselves! Now!"
Silence. An endless, agonizing silence hung in the air, heavy with the promise of unseen claws and unseen teeth. A sudden gust of wind whipped through the treetops, sending leaves fluttering to the ground in a dizzying dance. The branches above swayed and creaked, as if a secret message was being exchanged between the trees. The moon, shrouded in clouds, cast an eerie glow on the scene below; the speedy dusty wind blew and hit them. The jacket waved and the hair danced with the wind that hit their faces as it surpassed them. The boss wasn't having it and to scare whosoever was there, he fired thrice in the sky, all the crows gave a synchronized cawing and the birds chirped as they flew away. Right that moment, the world seemed to hold its breath as a heart-wrenching scene unfolded.
From the murky embrace of the sodden earth emerged a figure, a girl, her tear-streaked face a depiction of fear and despair. She trembled like a leaf caught in a tempest, her delicate form consumed by mud, her once-dainty dress now a tattered, stained with blood. Each step she took was a symphony of anguish, her legs quivering beneath her, barely able to support the weight of her terror. Her arms clutched tightly around her chest, as if trying to hold together the fractured pieces of her, Goosebumps adorned her skin, her back usually straight with youthful vigor, now bowed in a painful submission to the weight of her agony. She cried out, her voice a raw melody of desperation and anguish, pleading for succor from the unseen forces that governed fate. In that moment, the world seemed to pause, holding its breath in anticipation of the response to this sinister, haunting call for help. The boss stood tall, his stance unwavering, as he listened intently to the sobbing girl's tale of woe. A rumble of thunder rolled across the sky, its echo mingling with the sounds of nature in the darkness.
Tears clung to her soot-streaked cheeks like dewdrops clinging to a spider's web. Her voice, a broken sparrow's plea, rasped through the stunned silence, "Ma-man… after me… please…" "Please," she choked, her voice cracking with desperation, "I beg of you… save me… kill me if you must, but don't let him take me."
The thieves, rough men forged in the crucible of crime, found themselves oddly transfixed. This wasn't their usual quarry – no fat purse or jeweled trinket adorned this trembling soul. Yet, her raw terror resonated, the echo of their own fears bouncing off the damp walls.
Murphy, the nerd, his spectacles on his grime-streaked nose, squinted at the girl. A tremor of recognition sparked in his eyes. Leaning towards the burly leader, whose eyes gleamed with skepticism, he muttered, "Boss… she looks like…"
"Look like what, fool?" the boss, scoffed, his face twisting in derision. "Like a princess? A duchess? Get a grip, Murphy. This alley belongs to shadows, not silk and lace.
She looked behind again to be sure that no one was coming. It was clear that she was attacked and hunted down. Petrified girl cried for help and sacredly said, "He is a complete ps…psycho…please he will ki….kill me,…pleas…please get me ou….out of here."
But the seed of doubt, sown by Murphy's hesitant whisper, germinated in Boss's mind. Something flickered in the girl's tear-streaked eyes, a defiance that mirrored the glint in his own when cornered. 'A flicker of…familiarity.' He narrowed his eyes, studying the girl, the shadows playing tricks on his already hardened heart. Could she be…? No, preposterous!
The girl, sensing their hesitation, her fear morphing into desperate defiance, squared her shoulders, her voice hoarse but unwavering. "Save me," she hissed, "or let him finish what he started. But remember, when your own shadows crawl upon you, you'll see my face in them. You'll hear my plea echo in the silence. She turned again to face the horror coming towards her, ready to face the approaching horror alone.
But in that moment, the undisputed king of the underworld, stepped forward- a tall, vigorous and muscular man with apparent strong biceps who held the scattergun, had worn heavy long gumboots and blood all over his dark blue jersey and said "Alright, chit," he rumbled, his voice surprisingly gentle, "Tell us your story. And if it rings true, maybe, just maybe, these thieves will offer you their twisted kind of sanctuary." By his sight, her trembling legs lost the strength and she fell down. He reached the girl with a mischievous smirk, grabbed her hair, and lifted her by pulling it. The girl cried out in pain!
In a scene fraught with tension, the boss, in a selfish tone, remarked, "You going to enjoy this alone? Come on, man, let us join in!?"
A sudden interruption shattered the moment as a strange man loomed forward, his voice carrying an aggressive depth. "That's none of your business. But what brings you to these restricted woods?" His words sliced through the air, an ominous warning veiled within the question.
Hannett, caught off guard by the intrusion, stammered, "Oh! Were you so preoccupied that you forgot to watch the news? We are the talk of the town for now."
Strange man said loathingly, "Huh! News? Men like us don't watch the news, we become the news. So? Why are you here? Spill before I use this baby." He pointed the scattergun towards them.
A tense standoff ensued, a delicate balance between the threat of violence and a reluctant understanding. "Well, well, well," Murphy interjected, attempting to diffuse the escalating tension. "Look, we're cut from the same cloth, both dwellers in the underworld. It's not in our interest to engage in a futile fight. Let's part ways, keep our secrets, and avoid unnecessary bloodshed. A win-win for us both."
The strange man, reluctantly convinced, lowered the scattergun, acknowledging to his point. However, he labeled the boss a coward before issuing a commanding directive. "Now go, scaredy cats! Let me conclude matters with her alone."
After that short talk, what followed was a harrowing display of cruelty. The girl, in a desperate bid for mercy, clung to the man's leg, pleading to be released. But his callous indifference was palpable. He reveled in her suffering, his expression devoid of sympathy, relishing the torment he inflicted upon her, he felt entitled to torture, beat and kick the poor girl but she kept holding on to his leg, begging to let her go but by his expression, he enjoyed it! It was a chilling display of power and cruelty, a moment that clawed at the heartstrings and painted a haunting portrait of the darker realms of human nature.
In a hushed exchange amongst the men, Edwin's voice cut through the tense air, whispering caution to the boss. His words, laden with concern and urgency, conveyed the gravity of the situation – a sense of distrust lingering in the air. "Boss, we can't just walk away. Something's not right about him. We can't trust him. Tomorrow, he might just turn us in to the cops. That would really anger the big boss."
Fury danced in the boss's eyes as he grappled with the weight of the situation. "I know, OKAY? Just follow my lead. I'll find a way out of this mess," he spat a mix of anger and calculated thoughtfulness coloring his words.
Moments stretched like eternity as the men watched the gruesome display of cruelty unfold. Each second was an eternity, the torment of the poor girl- a stark contrast to the looming shadows of the restricted woods.
As they turned to leave the grim sight, a thunderous crack shattered the eerie silence. The girl, her voice a desperate plea for mercy, clung to the last strands of hope, begging for release. In an instant, the girl's scream pierced the heavens as the bullet found its target, piercing through her skull. With a heart-wrenching thud, she crumpled to the muddy ground, tragic evidence that marks the depths of human cruelty. The men stood frozen, paralyzed by the ambiguity that had just unfolded before their eyes, the echoes of the gunshot haunting the very essence of their beings.
In an abrupt twist of fate, the boss's instincts surged into action. In a lightning-fast move, he seized the opportunity, swinging the pistol, and relentlessly pulled the trigger, the shot- a stark proclamation of lethal intent. The muscular man, a looming threat in the boss's eyes, crumbled under the onslaught, his form succumbing to the merciless bullet. With steely determination, the boss and Murphy swiftly took charge, dragging the bodies of the strange man while Hannett and Edwin worked together to transport the wounded girl. Their movements were calculated, methodical, as they concealed the two beneath a veil of leaves, a makeshift shroud to hide the evidence of their grim encounter. The forest-deep and dark witnessed to their actions. Here, the rules of society seemed to wail, allowing them the audacity to leave the bodies in plain sight. The scarcity of visitors to these forbidden woods rendered meticulous hiding unnecessary; their only concern was to distance themselves from the scene, leaving behind the silent witnesses to their dark episode.
Their departure was a quiet yet purposeful retreat, each step a deliberate stride away from the haunting scene, their steps faded into the shadows, leaving behind a chilling aura of mystery and an unsettling sense of unresolved disorder.
With a calming inhale, they resumed their journey, determination into every step. They navigated the forest's dense path dictated by the irregular marks on the tree trunks. The absence of a consecutive pattern signaled their proximity to the destination they sought.
Minute after Minute of trekking through the wild terrain led them to a sight that halted their strides—the fractured, twisted wires of a broken wall. The barrier, to some forgotten boundary, loomed before them, a symbol of both obstruction and potential progress. They stood poised at the edge of discovery, ready to breach the barrier that guarded the secrets concealed within.
Carefully, Edwin crossed the broken wired wall first while Hannett and Murphy passed the stolen stuff one by one to Edwin who hoarded them. Afterwards, each one of them crossed the wired wall and walked to the creepy abandoned warehouse that was on the steep. It looked nothing like today's warehouse, in stark contrast to the modern warehouses, this was a relic of the past—an old-fashioned structure with imposing iron gates that held the weight of history. With a determined grip, Murphy seized the heavy iron lock, the echo of its metallic clinks resonating through the air as he wrestled it open, revealing the secrets that lay beyond. It was all black and dark from inside because it had caught fire 100 years ago and the cobwebs all over the ceiling and down the four corners in which the dead insects and flies hung. They put down the stolen stuff on the long and broad metal worktable with one under shelf kept in the center of that warehouse. The boss, a figure of calculated precision, dialed a number, his voice a calm assurance amid the unsettling stillness. He conveyed their successful arrival without detection, assuring the person on the other end that their journey through the forest had remained secretive. Their readiness to commence the creation of the "SAE" was affirmed, punctuated by a nod of acknowledgement to the unseen individual's response before decisively ending the call.
Hannett went to the small room at the right corner and hurriedly dragged the senior scientist, they had kidnapped. Boss forced the scientist to work to create SAE by threatening him a merciless death. Reluctantly, the scientist delved into the sea of files and records, attempting to crack the cryptic formulae encoded in illegible code words. Pen and paper became tools in his hands as he labored to unlock the secrets hidden within the stolen data. Carefully measuring and mixing chemicals from the tubes, he added a few drops of dark, blackish blood taken from Amelia's secret locker into a beaker, setting a tense stage for the mysterious composition. As the blood made contact with the chemicals, a sudden rush of steam erupted, followed by a vigorous boiling of the solution. After the boiling reaction settled, the scientist conducted a test, administering the newly created mixture to a lab rat within 5 minutes. For the initial moments, there seemed to be a ray of success—the rat appeared fine, a deceptive calm masking the impending horror. But the brief success was shattered when the rat, after a mere five minutes, exhibited wild behavior, darting wildly within its cage. The once-innocent creature turned into a eerie menace, chewing at the cage's metal rods in a desperate attempt to escape. In a horrifying twist, the rat met a tragic demise, its body succumbing to the boiling effects of the chemical composition. What remained was a disfigured, boiled, foul-smelling mass, a grim reminder of the horrific experiment gone awry.
The boss's gaze, a chilling mix of fury and disappointment, bore into the scientist as he witnessed the catastrophic failure. Undeterred, the scientist persisted, following manual instructions meticulously, but each subsequent attempt plunged deeper into failure, leaving behind a trail of increasingly disastrous and miserable outcomes.
Frustrated and impatient boss yelled and threatened the poor scientist to concentrate and create SAE without wastage of the precious blood and time. The scientist did actually tried his best to decode the formulae and create connections between the formulae designed by Amelia obscurely that only she could interpret.
The storm raved above, wind a feral beast against the walls, clawing at the rickety warehouse roof. Wolves, emboldened by the tempest, howled a chilling chorus just beyond the cracked windows, their voices weaving with the harsh caw of crows circling the night sky. Inside, shadows danced in the flickering lamplight, playing tricks on already frayed nerves. The sound, raw and desperate, clawed its way out from behind a towering stack of crates. Heads whipped towards the disturbance, eyes gleaming with suspicion. Boss, a man built like a mountain carved from granite, his face a roadmap of past brawls, raised a bushy eyebrow like a thundercloud rolling in. Strange words being muttered sounds strangely came from behind the boxes as if someone landed there. The boss raised the eyebrows and walked towards the boxes to see if someone hid there, he kicked the boxes curiously, some to the left side and some to the right. His eyes remained as big as the shock itself, he stepped away and called others. The scientist was confused and curiously tried to peek through the thieves who surrounded the scene to see the same poor girl with bullet hole in the head lying dead there. Argued about how this could happen when they themselves hid the body under the leaves and suddenly, they witnessed dead body's muscles shiver and body shook as if possessed soul sprinkled with holy water.
Bewildered men decided to shoot the dead girl with as many as bullets, they fiercely took out the guns and right that moment, their disturbed attention was caught by bone cracklings, whooping mist, glasses smashing and clinked and eerie whispering sounds scattered in that warehouse terrifying the thieves even more as they all looked behind, they felt like something got out of the sight with the speed of light. It was the scientist smashing the test tubes, beakers, opened the cages and rats rushed out, glass bottles spilled the acidic chemicals, dark blackish blood melted the metal worktable and burnt the floor as it partially evaporated and disappeared deep into the ground and everything was a mess. It seemed that scientist wasn't himself but possessed as his eyes turned all black with red nerves, he stood there inhumanly with titled head, deadly staring down at the boss with dead wide eyes and uttered words whisperingly but the words loudly cleared as he spoke, "WE ARE ALL GONNA DIE, IT'S THE UNDENIABLE FATE!" He continued shouting the sentence with deep chuckled voice. The boss looked at scientist with disbelief, sprinted and held his collar as he commanded others to deal with the dead girl. He was immensely pissed because they lost the precious blood and beat him up badly but the scientist kept muttering the words that we are all going to die, its undeniable fate while laughed evilly and eventually fainted when the boss hit him hard against the wall. Meanwhile, the other men turned to shoot the dead girl, they were left frightened to encounter that the dead body was gone, vanished from the sight. The boss yelled and told them to 'get it together,' boss tried to figure out the situation dreadfully when the boss felt light tapping on his right shoulder, he ambiguously thought that it was one of his men and said angrily, "STOP! Don't Touch Me…..I'll kill you! ….." and stopped abruptly as he heard the whisper in the ear, "You cannot kill someone who's already dead, Carmen" and then the whisper faded away. He turned back within the next second and jerked when he saw the dead girl standing right before him, staring through the eyebrows with a wicked grin.