[Supernatural meets The Boys]
Nobody is stupid enough to venture into unknown territories, except for Ilya. Don't get him wrong! He never meant to enter that mysterious village.
Fate led him there to save, or be saved.
"Peekaboo!"
Beast is a cruel c...
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All the dismembered mutilated bodies in the elevator shaft had two things in common; their skulls were smashed open and their brains were missing.
"AAAAHHH."
"AAAHH."
"AAAAAAHHHHHH."
The high-pitched screams came from everywhere.
Ilya gasped and turned. He didn't know where to run... but he knew that he was supposed to run.
Ilya hopped off the pile of bodies and winced. Then his eyes widened.
"Oh, no."
He clutched his leg. Something felt sore. The fall had twisted his ankle.
There was no time to waste. Ilya started limping with what was left of his strength. Despite the pain, he managed to speed up his movement. Step by step, he found himself at an intersection.
Ilya swallowed hard as he shined the flashlight at the dark paths, fearing that he might encounter the horde of shriekers any second now.
The deafening shrieks echoed from two hallways, while the one on the left seemed quieter. And that was where Ilya walked through, guided only by hope—hoping he didn't just make a deadly turn.
The hungry screams felt like spiders crawling on his bare back. The horde seemed so close, loud, and terrifying. Ilya kept limping his way through the darkness, but his breath was running low.
Ilya leaned on a wall, panting breathlessly.
The walls were closing in on him. His eyes blurred everything in his path. Even with his flashlight, things appeared dim and dark. All objects pulsed around him. The world spun and spun, making him dizzier and dizzier.
Everything was pulsing in rhythm with his rapid heartbeat, getting bigger then smaller. The narrow corridors tightened around him, suffocating him, then releasing him. His head spun with the spinning walls around him.
"Shit," Ilya cursed under his breath. "Hypo... glycemia."
His condition was getting worse. His blood sugar level had gotten dangerously low. If he doesn't find the right nutrition soon he'll collapse.
Ilya didn't know how he was still standing. He was supposed to crumple. He should have crumpled hours ago. He leaned on the walls and limped, determined to escape a cruel death by the zombie shriekers.
All the doors he encountered were locked. Just his luck. However, he kept going.
Those screaming creatures won't stop until they catch him. And when they do, he'll be ripped apart piece by piece while he watched, very consciously, crying in excruciating pain.
Their shrieks didn't echo anymore. They traveled straight through the hallway. That was when Ilya knew—They found him.
They were following the smell of his fresh sweat and blood, starving for a taste of his brain.
