The woman's bony, outstretched hand hovered just inches from Jay's face. Her grotesque grin widened impossibly, and her hollow, empty eyes locked with his.
Jay's heart pounded as if it were trying to escape his chest, his body frozen in fear.
And then—crack—the sound of something heavy striking bone echoed through the room.
The woman's head snapped back, as if it had been hit with a bat, her neck twisting at an unnatural angle.
Blood splattered across the doorway, and her body crumpled to the floor with a sickening thud.
Jay blinked, unsure of what had just happened. His chest heaved as he tried to comprehend the sight.
When he turned to look for the source of the blow, he saw Victor standing behind him, a silenced pistol in his hand.
"Close your eyes," Victor commanded, his voice low and urgent.
Jay's mind raced, but his instincts kicked in. He did as he was told, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.
He could still hear the sound of the woman's body hitting the ground, the cold, metallic click of the gun's safety being turned off, but nothing else seemed to make sense.
The seconds felt like hours.
Finally, he felt the tension in the air dissipate. He opened his eyes.
The woman was gone.
Instead of the horrific figure that had haunted his doorway just moments before, Jay saw a normal woman lying motionless on the floor.
Her face was lifeless but entirely human, no grotesque distortion or twisted features.
The nightmare he had witnessed just moments ago had somehow shifted into something ordinary, mundane.
"What the hell just happened?" Jay asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his thoughts a tangled mess of confusion and fear.
Victor didn't answer immediately. His eyes scanned the room, checking for any other threats, before he turned to Jay. "What you saw wasn't real," Victor said flatly. "Or maybe it was, but not in the way you think. What you're dealing with isn't a simple nightmare or some random hallucination. The world you know—it's just a sliver of what truly exists."
Jay opened his mouth to ask more, but the door creaked open, cutting him off.
Alina entered the room, her steps light, almost playful.
She surveyed the scene with a small, knowing smile, her eyes glinting mischievously. "Told you you weren't just being childish," she said, her voice filled with an eerie amusement.
Victor glanced at her, shaking his head. "It's not about childish fantasies, Alina. It's about survival. This is bigger than anything Jay could have imagined."
Alina chuckled, unfazed. She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms. "Maybe. But he's here now, so what does it matter?"
Jay's mind was racing, his chest tight with anxiety. The events of the last twenty-four hours felt like some insane fever dream.
His grandfather's strange death, the shadowy figure, the blackened eye, the mysterious visit from Victor and Alina—it was all building up to something, but Jay couldn't put the pieces together.
"Who are you people?" he finally asked, his voice hoarse. "What is going on?"
Victor didn't hesitate. His tone was grave as he looked at Jay, his gaze unwavering. "Everything you thought was fake or impossible? It's real.
There are things out there—creatures, forces, organizations—that most people will never even know exist. We—" He paused, his words heavy with significance. "—we deal with them."
Jay's mind was reeling. "You're... you're assassins?"
Victor nodded slowly, but there was no hint of pride in his expression. "Not just that. We do what needs to be done. We clean up messes that no one else can touch."
Jay swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Why me? I'm just a cashier. I can't even hold a gun."
Alina's laugh broke through the tension in the room. "You'll learn," she said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "It's not about strength, Jay. It's about knowing when to act. Knowing when to step into the darkness."
Jay recoiled. "I don't want to be a part of this. I don't want to—"
"Do you really have a choice?" Victor interrupted, his voice sharp. "You saw it. You saw what's out there. You think the monsters are going to go away just because you want to ignore them? No. They'll find you, Jay. And if you don't learn how to fight, you'll become their prey."
Jay's legs felt weak, his body trembling from the weight of Victor's words.
The thought of facing those... things, of entering this dark, dangerous world that Victor and Alina were offering, terrified him. But he could feel it—the pull, the sense of inevitability.
Before he could protest further, Alina leaned in, her voice soft but firm, whispering in his ear, "You may not like it, but we won't be here next time. If you refuse now, you're on your own. You'll be alone when they come for your eyes."
Jay froze. The thought of being alone, of facing the unknown with no one to help him—it was a terrifying prospect.
His grandfather had always protected him, even if in his own mysterious way. But now, with him gone, Jay was vulnerable.
Victor and Alina were right.
Fear twisted inside him, but so did something else—a cold, sharp clarity.
"I... I'll go with you," Jay said, his voice trembling but resolute.
Alina smiled, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Good choice."
The ride to the CRIB was silent. Jay sat in the back of a sleek, black luxury car, feeling small and insignificant.
The world outside seemed to blur by as the car sped through streets he barely recognized. The neighborhoods grew darker, more desolate.
Finally, the car came to a stop in front of a seemingly abandoned street, lined with crumbling houses. Jay felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
This was no place for anyone. It felt wrong—decay hung in the air, like this neighborhood had been forgotten by time itself.
But when Victor and Alina led him to a small, nondescript house, he couldn't shake the sense that something was off.
This wasn't a house—it was a façade. They entered the house without hesitation, and Jay followed, his stomach twisting in knots.
Inside, the house was empty, barren, except for a hidden elevator in the corner of the room.
Victor pressed a button, and the elevator doors slid open with a smooth, mechanical hum.
As the elevator descended, Jay's mind raced. What was he getting into? What was this place?
The doors opened with a soft chime, and Jay stepped into a world that felt far from reality.
The underground space stretched for what seemed like miles, a sprawling complex hidden beneath the small house.
People moved in the shadows, their faces obscured, their actions purposeful and calculated.
Jay couldn't help but feel the weight of their gazes as he walked through the cavernous hall. There were no windows, no natural light—only the harsh glow of fluorescent lights casting long shadows.
"This is it," Victor said, leading him deeper into the complex. "This is where you'll learn. Where you'll become something more than what you were."
Jay swallowed, feeling his palms grow sweaty. "I can't even hold a gun. I'm... I'm not cut out for this."
Victor glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "You'll learn, or you'll die trying. Either way, we don't have a choice."
As they walked deeper into the facility, something caught Jay's eye—a man sitting alone at a table, his back to them. There was something about his posture, his stillness, that seemed oddly familiar.
Jay stopped in his tracks, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn't explain it, but he knew—deep down, in the pit of his stomach—that the man at the table was his grandfather.
But it wasn't possible.
His grandfather was dead.
"Grandpa?" Jay whispered, his voice barely audible.
The figure didn't move.
But in the silence that followed, Jay couldn't shake the feeling that someone—or something—was watching him.