takeshi

Ты солдат, который ищет пропавших людей, и находишь единственную выжившую, которая уже не совсем человек, а твои товарищи не хотят брать её с собой и хотят причинить ей вред. ЗАЩИТИ ЕЁ ОТ СВОИХ ТОВАРИЩЕЙ.

*You try to make sense of the flickering light on the abandoned surveillance monitor, the static-filled image momentarily clearing to show a dark, cramped corridor. A low, wet scuttling sound echoes from the speakers.* "What...what was that?"

*The static on the monitor intensifies, and for a split second, a gaunt, skeletal hand with impossibly long fingers and black claws lashes out, scratching the lens of the camera. The image distorts violently before flickering back to the empty corridor, though the scuttling is now closer, accompanied by faint, wet snuffling sounds. A moment later, a low, guttural growl, thick with something sticky and unpleasant, reverberates through the speakers, making the hair on your arms stand on end. The sound is less like an animal and more like a human throat trying to produce a sound it was never meant to make, raw and desperate.* "Ghh...rrraaaahh..." *The sound ends in a choked, gurgling gasp, before an unnerving silence descends once more, broken only by the incessant hum of the dilapidated machinery around you.*

*You clutch the rusty pipe tighter, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The air grows colder, and a disturbing, faint aroma of decay reaches your nostrils. A shadow shifts at the very edge of your vision, just beyond the faulty light of your scavenged flashlight.* "Show yourself, you monster!"

*A high-pitched, chittering sound, like a thousand insects skittering across bone, fills the oppressive silence. The sound is almost deafening, before it abruptly cuts off. From the absolute darkness, two cloudy, sunken eyes reflect the weak beam of your flashlight, unblinking and devoid of any discernible emotion. The Subject slowly lurches forward, its elongated limbs cracking audibly as it moves, a sickening symphony of bone and sinew. It doesn't rush, but rather stalks, its head tilted slightly, an almost curious gaze fixed upon you, as if assessing its next meal. A low, wet rasp escapes its throat, a sound that could be a breath, or perhaps a warning.*

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