Chapitre 28: Chapter 28: A Shock of Terror
The stifling air in the Hive pressed down on the team like a vice. Every breath tasted of metal, and the walls seemed to close in with each step they took. Beads of sweat slid down the backs of their necks beneath their helmets. The corridor stretched on, narrow and winding, dimly lit by flickering emergency lights that barely pierced the darkness. James "One" Shade led the way, his MP5A3 held steady, eyes scanning every shadow, every inch of steel around them.
"Stay tight," he ordered, voice low, gravelly. "Eyes sharp. We're in their territory now."
Ethan Drake followed, his custom 1911 .45 ACP in one hand, HK416 slung across his back. His breath was steady, but inside, a storm churned. The Hive. This godforsaken place. He had to fight to keep the memories at bay—the echoes of screams, the sterile smell of antiseptic mixing with blood. He'd been here before, he was sure of it, even if he couldn't remember how or why. He felt a weight on his chest that had nothing to do with his gear.
Ahead, the floor clanked under their boots, and the walls seemed to pulse with a life of their own, an unnerving, rhythmic hum that felt almost like a heartbeat. Rain Ocampo's MP7 was at the ready, eyes narrowed, lips set in a firm line. She spared a glance over her shoulder at Ethan. "You look like you've seen a ghost," she muttered.
"Maybe I have," Ethan replied without looking at her, his voice like ice.
Behind them, Kaplan's steps faltered. The young private glanced nervously around, his M4A1 Carbine trembling slightly in his grip. His face was pale under the dim lights, and his breath came in shallow, rapid bursts. The others noticed, but said nothing. They all felt it—the creeping dread that had settled over them like a thick fog.
A clattering sound echoed from up ahead. Shade froze, raising a clenched fist. The team halted instantly, weapons up, eyes wide. The sound came again—a sharp, metallic clang followed by a low hiss. Kaplan swallowed hard, his finger hovering too close to the trigger. He whispered, "Just a pipe… probably just a pipe."
Ethan's gaze darted to the flashlight on the ground, flickering erratically. Kaplan knelt to pick it up. "This… wasn't here before," he said, voice tinged with fear.
Ethan didn't bother to glance down. "Leave it," he said. "It's a distraction."
Rain hesitated, her instincts buzzing. She stared at the flashlight, something gnawing at her mind. But Shade was already moving forward again. "Eyes up," he barked. "We keep moving. No stragglers."
They continued down the corridor, the sound of their footsteps echoing like gunshots in the confined space. Then it hit them—a scream, piercing and unearthly, tearing through the darkness. It was raw, jagged, filled with a pain that was all too human but with something else twisted into it—something primal.
The scream sent a shiver down Rain's spine. She swung her weapon around, aiming into the darkness from where the sound had come. Her heart pounded in her chest, adrenaline surging. "What the hell was that?" Miller's voice broke, sounding higher than usual.
"Stay sharp," Shade commanded, his eyes scanning the darkness. His hand gripped the MP5A3 so tightly his knuckles whitened.
"Sounded like it came from up ahead," Davis muttered, his grip tightening on his FN SCAR-L.
Ethan stepped forward, his voice cold and resolute. "We keep moving. No one splits up." His tone brooked no argument, but his eyes were restless, darting between the shadows.
Alice's eyes flicked to Ethan. She could see the tension coiling in his shoulders, the way his fingers flexed around the grip of his 1911. She whispered, "You alright?"
Ethan didn't meet her gaze. "I'm fine," he snapped, a bit too quickly. His hand twitched towards his sidearm again, fingers brushing the grip. Something in him itched, a sensation he couldn't shake—like being watched, like being hunted.
They pushed deeper into the corridor. A rusted vent cover rattled above them, and Kaplan jumped, nearly squeezing the trigger. "Get a grip, Kaplan," Rain hissed, keeping her voice low but sharp. "You're gonna shoot your own foot off at this rate."
Then Ethan saw it—a reflection in a shattered panel on the wall. For just a second, he thought he saw his own face, twisted into a sneer, eyes glaring back with something almost like recognition. He blinked, and the image was gone, just a jagged shard of glass reflecting the light.
"Drake?" Alice's voice again, quiet, but insistent.
"Nothing," he muttered, shaking his head, trying to focus. But a cold sweat had broken out on his forehead. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was… wrong. Very wrong.
Kaplan halted again. "Did you see that?" he whispered, pointing down a pitch-black hallway to their left. Shade turned, raising his MP5A3, eyes narrowing. The others did the same, forming a half-circle, weapons aimed.
"Where?" Shade demanded.
Kaplan's eyes darted frantically. "There… I swear, I saw something move, just out of sight…"
"Probably your imagination," Davis grumbled. "Or your nerves."
"I'm not imagining it!" Kaplan's voice cracked, desperation creeping in.
"Enough," Shade growled. "We don't have time for this." His gaze lingered down the hallway for a moment longer than necessary. "Whatever's playing games with us, we don't let it win. We move."
They reached a door at the end of the corridor, its surface scarred and dented, as if something had tried to claw its way out. Shade looked back at his team. "This is it," he announced. "Whatever's on the other side… we go in fast and hard. No hesitation. No second-guessing."
Ethan took his place at the front, heart thundering in his chest. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his HK416 against his back, the comforting heft of his 1911 in his hand. He looked back at the team—Alice, Rain, Davis, Miller, Kaplan. All of them waiting, watching, the fear in their eyes barely masked by their determination.
Shade nodded. "On my mark… Ready…"
The door creaked, hinges protesting as it slowly began to open. Darkness yawned beyond, a void that seemed to swallow the faint light from the corridor. The team tensed, every muscle coiled like a spring.
"Go!" Shade commanded, and they plunged into the darkness.
The door slammed shut behind them with a deafening clang, sealing them in.
And then, silence—thick, oppressive silence, broken only by the sound of their own breaths.
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
Vivid_Horizons
Vivid_Horizons "If you enjoyed this story, please add it to your library. If not, thank you for reading! Your comments and suggestions for future changes are welcome!"
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
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