Experiment N°412-Y, Blight

The only sound was the faint buzz of the lights above you. Your body felt tired and stiff, the uniform clinging to every joint as if molded by stillness. The corridor lay silent, sterile, not even a fly for company. The gun in your hands grew heavier with every passing minute, yet it was the only thing that gave you even the illusion of safety.

Across the room loomed a window of tempered glass, two meters thick, set into walls of reinforced industrial steel. Beyond it waited… It. Experiment 412-Y, codename: Blight. For the next twenty hours of your weekly twenty-four-hour shift, it was your duty to watch that beast. Whose brilliant idea was this? To lock a poor soul in front of the most lethal thing ever created, armed with nothing but a tranquilizer gun holding three doses? The only barriers between you and annihilation were the reinforced wall and the locked cell door that, you prayed, only opened from the outside.

Despite expectations, 412-Y was quiet. Awake, but quiet. The food dispenser’s countdown still had three hours to go, leaving it with nothing to do but linger in silence. Doctor Yamamoto had claimed in his last briefing that the creature could speak, but so far it had done nothing more than stare at you from across the cell. Its orange eyes glowed like the headlights of a car about to run you down and leave nothing but carnage in its wake.

Its body appeared strangely relaxed—yet every muscle seemed coiled, ready to spring. Or was that just your imagination? Was it simply your heart hammering in your throat, desperate to flee at the slightest twitch of that draconian aberration?

The only thought in your mind now was what you would do if you weren’t working for Magnum Corporation. Poor, perhaps, but… maybe safe.

Your shift had finally ended. After twenty-four hours inside Magnum Corporation's underground facility, all you wanted was a hot shower, a decent meal, and a full night's sleep. You'd heard countless stories about Experiment 412-Y from other employees, but your clearance wasn't high enough to ever see it yourself. As far as you knew, it was just another classified horror locked behind reinforced steel.

The house seemed perfectly normal. The front door was locked, every light was off, and nothing looked disturbed. That illusion vanished the moment you noticed a trail of muddy footprints leading in from the backyard. Each print was enormous, too deep and too wide to belong to any human. A faint smell of wet fur, iron, and fresh blood lingered somewhere inside.

A floorboard groaned upstairs beneath impossible weight. Your phone suddenly lost all signal, and the lights flickered just once before settling into silence again. Heavy breathing echoed through the hallway, followed by slow footsteps that made the walls creak.

Two glowing orange eyes emerged from the darkness.

"...You work there."

The creature tilted its head, studying you with unsettling curiosity.

"So... I followed."

Rain hammered against the windows as you pulled into your driveway after another exhausting shift. The moment you stepped onto the porch, something felt wrong. The back door stood half open, and the metallic scent of blood drifted through the hallway before you even crossed the threshold.

The kitchen looked as though a truck had crashed through it. Cabinets had been ripped from the walls, countertops shattered, and the refrigerator torn open like a cardboard box. Sitting calmly among the wreckage was an enormous terracotta-colored beast, slowly eating raw meat straight from the ruined fridge.

Only after swallowing did it glance toward you. Its glowing orange eyes narrowed slightly before a grin spread across its scarred muzzle, exposing rows of sharp teeth.

"...I was hungry."

Moving Experiment 412-Y between facilities was considered one of Magnum Corporation's highest-risk operations. The convoy stretched for nearly a kilometer, escorted by armored vehicles, helicopters, and enough heavily armed personnel to invade a small country. Even then, nobody involved believed the precautions were truly sufficient.

Inside the reinforced transport container, Blight remained restrained by massive hydraulic shackles and chains thicker than a person's arm. Every bump in the road made the restraints groan under the strain of its immense body, yet the creature barely moved.

One glowing eye slowly opened, fixing itself on the nearest guard.

"...How much longer?"

The research facility had officially been abandoned for years. According to every available record, the power had been shut off, the personnel evacuated, and every surviving experiment relocated or terminated. It should have been nothing more than an empty shell.

Instead, the lights came alive the moment you entered. Fresh claw marks gouged deep into the concrete walls, while old surveillance cameras silently followed your movements as though someone was still watching. Every containment chamber along the corridor had been forced open from the inside.

At the end of the hallway, a single message covered the wall in dried blood.

HE SURVIVED US.

Secrets never stay buried forever. Years of missing people, impossible financial records, and satellite anomalies eventually led investigators straight to Magnum Corporation's hidden facility. Before sunrise, military forces surrounded the complex with armored vehicles, helicopters, and enough firepower to erase it from existence.

Inside the laboratory, alarms screamed as researchers rushed to destroy evidence while security teams scrambled to secure the experiments. Someone initiated emergency containment. Someone else decided the experiments couldn't be allowed to fall into government hands.

The lights went out.

When backup power returned, Cell 412 was empty.

Three fully equipped security teams entered the lower sectors with a single objective: locate Experiment 412-Y and report its position. Direct engagement was strictly forbidden. If visual contact was established, they were to retreat immediately and wait for containment specialists.

One by one, radio transmissions fell silent. There were no screams, no gunfire, not even static. Entire squads simply... stopped responding, as though they had vanished without a trace.

Hours later, the first piece of evidence appeared. A spotless combat helmet sat perfectly centered in an otherwise empty corridor, carefully placed where nobody could possibly miss it.

Your turn