Daan leaned back in the car seat, his body aching from the long day. Graycloud's polluted air clung to his skin; the air was dirty as hell, the griminess setting deeper into his bones with every breath.
Daan felt he would rust before the tape killed him.
The night hung over the city like a suffocating blanket, and Graycloud's industrial energy plant could be seen through Drejo's old windshield. Its chimneys puffed smoke that blended seamlessly into the dark sky.
Drejo sat beside him, restless and antsy, tapping his fingers on the wheel. They had spent the entire day tracking down leads and piecing together the mystery of the cursed tape.
Now, they sat in front of the energy plant, waiting for the night shift to end, hoping for answers.
"We know all the victims died of heart attacks," Daan said, rubbing his eyes, exhaustion setting in. "But the foam from their mouths... Is it just saliva? That doesn't make any sense."
Drejo took a swig from his ever-present can of Soda-Cola; Daan felt like if Drejo had a Taren, it would be the ability to have infinite Soda-Cola. "It's weird, man. But I talked to a guy at the morgue—he said it's like they were scared to death. Literally. Their hearts just gave out, like something freaked them out so bad it killed them."
Daan exhaled slowly, trying to make sense of it all. "And all the victims were Taren users," he mused. "Not particularly strong ones, but still. It's not a coincidence."
"Yeah," Drejo muttered. "Johnny was the strongest of them—Tier 1, E Grade. And if that tape can take him out, it's not some random cursed VHS."
Daan nodded grimly, drumming his fingers on the dashboard. Something's targeting these guys specifically. Maybe it's not just about killing them. Maybe it's trying to send a message."
"Perchance," Drejo said as he glanced toward the bar down the street, where they had overheard some workers of the day morning shift gossiping earlier.
"What do you think about what those idiots were saying? That some worker on the night shift at the plant has been acting... off?"
"Could be a lead," Daan said. "Maybe he watched the tape. Or maybe he knows something about it."
They both sat silently for a while, the only sound being the distant hum of machinery from the plant. Daan's gaze flicked to the passing workers as they left the plant in small groups, laughing and chatting, unaware of the curse hanging over their heads.
Drejo stretched, groaning as his spine cracked. "Man, this job's got me feeling like I've been living in a detective movie. All we need now is a jazz saxophonist playing in the background."
Daan chuckled, appreciating the brief moment of fun. "So... favorite Revenger?"
Drejo's face lit up. "Oh, that's easy. Blitzkrieg, man."
Daan raised an eyebrow, "The German chick? Yeah, she got a fat ass."
"Nah, man, She's the fastest thing alive. The chick runs so fast he can phase through walls, turn back time for like three seconds, and he's got that cocky attitude that just screams, 'I'm too cool for this team.' What's not to love?"
Daan shook his head, smirking. "Maybe 'cause she's the weakest of Revengers."
Drejo shot him a grin. "Alright, smart guy. What about you? Who's your favorite?"
Daan didn't even have to think about it. "Crown".
"She is the second strongest and an absolute beast with magic. Hotheaded, sure, but when shit hits the fan, she's always the first one into the fight. Plus, when the Greens invaded she out half a fleet of alien ships by herself? Legendary."
Drejo gave an approving nod. "Respect. Crown is a beast. But I still think Blitzkrieg could run circles around her."
"Maybe," Daan conceded. "But Crown would turn her into a rabbit before she caught her."
Drejo laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet car. It felt good to talk about something normal for a change, to forget about cursed tapes, heart attacks, and nightmarish, sexy, tall ghosts crawling out of TVs—if only for a moment.
But the moment passed quickly. Daan's eyes sharpened as he spotted a figure leaving the plant alone, a young man with sunken eyes and an unsteady gait.
The man's clothes were stained with grease and soot, and he moved like a puppet with its strings cut, or maybe he was a Lueage of Law player.
"There," Daan said, nudging Drejo. "That's gotta be him."
Drejo nodded, tossing his empty soda can into the backseat. "Alright. Let's follow him."
They waited until the man had rounded the corner, then quietly slipped out of the car. The streetlights cast long shadows as they trailed the workers through the narrow alleys of Graycloud.
The man's movements were strange—he kept glancing over his shoulder, muttering to himself, and his steps were uneven as if he were walking on legs that didn't belong to him.
Drejo leaned close to Daan, whispering, "This guy's definitely seen something he shouldn't have."
Daan nodded his senses on high alert. Whatever was happening to this man was connected to the curse. They had to figure out what he knew before it was too late.
The man finally stopped before an old, rundown apartment building, fumbling with his keys. Daan and Drejo exchanged a glance and then quickly approached him.
"Hey, man," Daan called out, trying to sound casual. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
The worker froze, his bloodshot eyes widening with fear as he saw Drejo and Daan's shadow over him. He turned slowly, clutching his keys like he was ready to stab someone with them. "W-who are you?" he stammered, his voice hoarse.
"We just want to talk," Drejo said, raising both hands in peace. "We heard some guys at the bar saying you've been acting weird. We're trying to figure out what's going on."
The man's eyes darted between them, his breathing shallow and ragged. "I... I can't... It's too late..."
"Too late for what?" Daan pressed, stepping closer. "Did you watch the tape?"
The man flinched at the mention of the tape, confirming their suspicions. "I didn't mean to!" he cried, his voice breaking. "It was just... sitting there... I thought it was a joke... But now she's coming for me..."
"Madako?" Daan asked, his heart racing. "The woman from the tape?"
The worker nodded frantically, tears streaming down his face.
"She's in my head... I see her every time I close my eyes... I can't sleep... I can't think... She won't leave me alone!"
Daan exchanged a grim look with Drejo. This was worse than they had thought.
"Listen," Drejo said, his tone gentle but urgent. "We can help you, but you need to tell us everything. Where did you find the tape?"
The man sniffled, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his jacket. "It was... it was in the plant. Someone left it in the break room. I thought... I thought it was just some old movie..."
Daan's mind raced. If the tape had been left at the plant, it meant someone was deliberately spreading it. This wasn't just a random curse that leaked into the wild—it was a weapon.
"Do you still have it?" Daan asked.
The man shook his head violently. "No! I tried to destroy it... I burned it... But it just came back... It always comes back..."
Drejo cursed under his breath. "This is bad." Daan's thoughts raced. The man tried to destroy this tape, but he couldn't, contrary to the one they saw burning when it touched the ground back at Jhonny's place.
Daan nodded, his jaw clenched.
They were running out of time, "We need to move," Daan said, grabbing the man's arm. "Come with us. You're not safe here."
But before they could take another step, the lights in the alley flickered—and then went out completely.
A chilling wind swept through the alley, and the worker let out a terrified scream as she crawled out of a drain. A familiar tall figure crawled her way out of the drain.
"She's here!" he cried, struggling in their grip. "She's coming for me!"
Daan and Drejo drew their weapons, Drejo his usual SIG P365 and Daan a SIG P320 gifted by Smoking, their hearts pounding in their chests.
The air grew thick with an unnatural cold, and a low, haunting whisper echoed through the darkness.
"...five days..."
Daan tightened his grip on the pistol, his breath fogging in the freezing air.
"Stay close," he whispered to Drejo.
Manako slithered out of the sewer drain. As her full figure came into view, both Daan and Drejo froze, momentarily stunned by the surreal sight before them.
Standing over seven feet tall, her massive breasts strained against the thin, white, almost transparent nightgown, the fabric clinging to her damp, curvaceous figure.
The dark outlines of her nipples were clearly visible through the soaked material, and the swell of her hips and thighs was impossible to ignore. Her ass jiggled as she began walking in Daan's and Drejo's direction.
Her glowing crimson eyes pierced the night with an unholy intensity. They locked onto Daan and Drejo, causing the two men to shudder involuntarily.
Her jet-black hair cascaded down her back, shimmering as if dusted with diamond dust, gleaming even under the grimy streetlights.
Manako's aura radiated a disturbing allure that made it impossible to look away, yet every instinct screamed to run.
Daan and Drejo shook themselves from the trance, raising their pistols. Fingers on the triggers, they prepared to unload their magazines, fear twisting in their guts.
But before they could fire, the air shifted—something heavy and fast fell from above.
With a loud thud, a figure dropped from the sky, landing between them and Manako with the grace of a predator.
The impact cracked the pavement beneath their feet, sending a shockwave through the alley. The figure stood tall, draped in a vanta-black cloak that seemed to absorb every ounce of light around it, rendering them a void in the night.
"Ayo! That's Resolute!" Drejo screamed, forgetting he was about to be killed by a 7-foot-tall ghost.
Resolute, without hesitation, reached into a white utility belt tightly connected to her waist, hidden by the cloak, and withdrew an object.
This radiant, white cross seemed to irritate a glowing white light into the night street.
Manako's eyes widened in recognition. She let out a guttural shriek that echoed off the alley walls as the radiant object touched her.
Her lustful body twisted in agony, her nightgown burning as if touched by flames. She clawed at the air, backing away from Resolute's cross.
With another pained scream, Manako punched the glass of a nearby TV store window. She phased into one of the plasma screens, her figure dissipating into static and flickering light.