The air in the room was arid. The overhead lights buzzed—one flickering in arrhythmic spasms—casting sickly yellow glows across sterile steel counters and abandoned exam tables. You could hear the hum of old refrigeration units in the distance, low and ceaseless, like something breathing behind the walls.

Every surface gleamed too clean, scrubbed raw—except the stains. Faint, rusty smears on the floor near the drain. A drawer was half open, holding syringes still wrapped in cloudy plastic. One had a dark residue inside, dried like coagulated ink.

You'd almost forgotten you weren't alone.

"I was wandering around South East Asia," said Bob, voice quiet. Raspy. Ashamed. "Thought I'd figure something out. Or at least find more drugs."

The doors slid shut.

"And there was this guy," he continued. Looking at Yelena. "Started talking to me about - about a medical study. A trial drug that could make me stronger. Felt like a miracle. I'd finally get to show everyone that I was..." He paused.

Your chest churned with pain at his words. The hairs on your arms standing up.

"That I was more. That I was...something."

The Void finally showed itself. It seemed to thrive off of your fear. Off of Bob's misery.

"And look what you unleashed."

The Void stood motionless, its shadow-cloaked form barely human. A hospital gown clung to its frame like dead skin. Then, without a sound, it began to walk toward you—slow, deliberate, inevitable— as it spoke to Bob.

"The most shameful thing of all was thinking that you could be anything more than nothing."

"We're leaving." Said Yelena. Faster than you. Bolder. Her Russian accent cutting through the humid, harsh air, deep.

"No."