The corridor of the military base stretched long and unending, its walls lined with cold steel and fluorescent lights that hummed faintly overhead.
Four soldiers walked side by side, their boots echoing against the floor as they moved.
Each had their own unique traits, their camaraderie evident in their shared laughter and playful banter.
The leader of the group, a tall man with a crooked nose and a permanent sneer, a smirk spreading across his face.
"Remember that wiry guy we caught, He thought he could sneak in a salad and get away with it!"
The stocky man, with arms too large for his uniform, roared with laughter.
"Yeah! He was so confused when we started chanting 'Salad Boy!' He was about to cry!"
The wiry man, shaking his head with a mischievous glint in his eye, chimed in.
"I still can't believe he tried to defend himself by saying he was 'eating healthier.' As if that was going to save him from us!"
The man with earrings, the quietest of the group, finally spoke up, a grin creeping across his face.
"And then there was that girl. She had the nerve to call us out for our 'tactical' jokes. I mean, come on! We were just giving her what she deserves because she always brought those weird vegan snacks!"
The leader chuckled, shaking his head.
"Yeah, her face when we started pretending to gag. She looked like we had just told her the world was ending!"
The group erupted into laughter again, each recalling their own favorite bullying moment.
Their laughter filled the narrow space, coarse and mocking, bouncing off the walls like cruel echoes of their own amusement.
"Don't also forget that weak dude!" The man with earrings, spoke up again.
"Did you see his face?" one of them, a wiry man with a scar running down his cheek, said between fits of laughter. "He didn't even flinch. Just sat there like a statue."
"Private Sky, wasn't it?" chimed in another, a stocky man with arms too large for his uniform. "What a freak. Bet he was too scared to do anything."
The leader of the group, a tall man with a crooked nose and a permanent sneer etched onto his face, smirked.
"Sky's nothing. No fight in him, no spine. Next time I see him, I'll show him what happens to cowards like that."
The laughter grew louder, but it had a nervous edge to it now, as though the dim corridor itself disapproved of their mirth.
The air seemed heavier somehow, colder, and the fluorescent lights began to flicker faintly.
"Something wrong with the power?" one of them muttered, glancing up uneasily.
The leader waved him off.
"Relax. Probably just the base's crappy wiring."
But the flickering persisted, and then, without warning, the lights went out entirely.
Or rather yet.
Darkness swallowed the corridor whole, thick and impenetrable.
The soldiers froze, their earlier confidence draining away in the oppressive silence that followed.
"What is happening?," the scarred man said, his voice trembling slightly, "Something seems off"
The leader turned, intending to bark an order, but his breath caught in his throat.
His minions were gone.
The darkness remained, the silence deafening.
"Guys?" he called out, his voice cracking.
Then he saw something.
A pair of glowing, blue eyes piercing through the darkness, cold and unknown.
They stared at him with a menacing intensity that made his skin crawl.
"Who's there?" he demanded, his bravado faltering.
The figure stepped forward, it was tall, it appearance looked like an embodiment of darkness.
It held an iron tray in its hand, the metal gleaming faintly in the eerie glow of its eyes.
The leader took an unsteady step back, his heart pounding against his ribs.
There was something utterly wrong about this figure, something that sent every instinct in his body screaming to run.
"Stay back!" he shouted, his voice shaking. "Move any further I will have no other option than to take action"
The figure didn't stop.
It moved with deliberate slowness, each step echoing ominously in the confined space.
When it was close enough, it raised the iron tray high above its head.
"Mashed potatoes," the figure said in a low, almost mocking voice.
The tray came down with a resounding clang against the leader's head.
He stumbled, clutching his skull, but before he could recover, the tray rose again.
"Meatloaf."
Clang.
"Green beans."
Clang.
"Time."
Clang.
"Energy."
Clang.
The leader fell to his knees, his head swimming with pain and confusion.
"Stop!" he begged, his voice barely a whisper. "Please... stop."
The figure paused, tilting its head as though considering the plea.
Then it leaned in close, its glowing eyes burning into his.
"And why should i?."
It raised the iron tray high above its head again, not spearing a second.
"Hunger," the figure continued.
The tray came down with a resounding clang against his head.
"Anger."
Clang.
"Humiliation."
Clang.
"Drink."
Clang.
"Food."
Clang.
"Frustration."
Clang.
Each word was punctuated by another blow, the sound reverberating through the corridor.
When the figure was done, it turned and walked away, its steps fading away.
The darkness cleared slowly, the fluorescent lights sputtering back to life.
The leader blinked, his vision blurry from the pain.
He looked around and saw his minions sprawled on the floor, their faces pale and contorted in terror.
They looked as though they had stared into the abyss itself.
A faint groan escaped his lips before the world tilted, and he collapsed beside them, unconscious.