Occulturation #17: Night Trials

Explicit Content Warning! If you have internal organs or are internal organs, you may want to cover your eyes when reading an explicit section about Isuertal. This is a blood warning. That lady is violent

Dylishan hour of Ghost quintuple (4th hour of 4th 5-hour period)  
Ghost-Incorporeal-Restcha (4th day, 4th week, 3rd month)

-

Ystra. The doorbell has been ringing nonstop for the past hour. Ystra has been huddled in her closet, hoping whoever it is, will just go away. It didn’t work. The doorbell rings again and again. Lauren is still in the form of a horse in her house. It’s going to be hard to explain keeping a horse in her home, especially without an entrance big enough for the horse to fit. Of course, she has no intention of showing Lauren to anyone. It’s getting late. It’s already the Ghost quintuple, soon it will be sunset. At this point, she knows she needs to answer the door. If they’re this persistent, they’ll just break through her door if she doesn’t answer. She slowly stands up. Step by step, she makes her way towards the front door. The doorbell just won’t stop ringing. She can see the door now, she just needs to check the peephole. She touches the wood of the door and hopes that they don’t break through the door as she is standing here. She looks through the peephole and sees… nothing. She can still hear the  doorbell ringing, but the peephole is just useless. She really should have just put a normal window in her door. She doesn’t want to open the door, but she needs to answer. So she quietly whimpers to the door, “W-who’s there?” The doorbell is still ringing. They didn’t hear me. She knocks on her own door to get the attention of whoever it is outside. But the doorbell continues to ring. She knocks louder, but there is no reaction. The doorbell continues ringing as though they can’t hear her.

It occurs to Ystra that there might not be anyone outside at all. She can’t see anyone. She can’t hear anyone besides the doorbell. They don’t respond to her knocks. Just to make sure, she shouts “Is anyone there?” No response, just more rhythmic doorbell rings. Ystra sighs in relief. It is probably just a glitch with the doorbell. Maybe the button is stuck pressed-in. She opens the door to check. The doorbell continues to ring as she opens the door. She steps out and turns to face the doorbell. There is a strange object stuck in the doorbell button. It looks sort of like a tiny screwdriver but the metal prong is far too thin and small, like a little needle. And the cylindrical metal casing instead of a normal handle, this also has a thin, almost imperceptible, wire string coming from the back of this weird device. The string leads upwards but is too thin for Ystra to track further than a few inches. She wonders what this strange device is. Then she sees the sparking electricity. Her skin goes cold. It’s a taser barb.

Ystra also knows that tasers typically launch two barbs. So she wonders Where is the other barb? As her eyes have already searched the ground, she starts moving upwards. Ystra yelps, throwing herself in through the doorway. She kicks the door closed as she hears a thud on the ground outside. The doorbell stops ringing. She scrambles to the door. She can see the handle turning as someone twists it from the other side. She fumbles for the deadbolt, but the door is already creaking open. She slams her weight against it, forcing it shut. Finally, she latches the deadbolt and activates the handle lock as well. She sits. Knees to her face, back against the door, out of breath. She knows it isn’t over. Whoever is there won’t give up so easily. It spent so long ringing her doorbell. This is only the beginning.

…

…

Isuertal. Isuertal jumps between another two branches, but she misses this time. She falls from the tree and rolls to a stop. Her eyes have already adapted to the dark, so she can see a man flinch beside a tree about 100 feet to her left. He is shaved bald and wears brown cloth robes but no hood. He also has a reflective pendant hanging from his neck, which he grasps instinctively. Holding tight to it like a child might hold tightly to a stuffed animal or blanket in the dark. The man stares in her general direction, but Isuertal knows he can’t see her. With such strange attire, Isuertal can tell he is also playing along with the great joy of Ghostlight Grove. Isuertal isn’t even put off by the amateur’s weird clothes. It might unsettle the average citizen under the tension of night, but Isuertal isn’t impressed. She hopes this man has something else up his sleeves.

Time to put him to the test, Isuertal thinks to herself. She makes sure to noisily brush up against some bushes before jumping behind a tree. She can hear the man twist his head in the direction of the sound. She takes out a small plastic bottle full of glowing dark-red liquid. She takes out the eyedropper. The other members of the A.S.S.F. always wondered why she requisitioned Night Eye enhancement eyedroppers when she could already see almost perfectly in the dark. Isuertal smiles. Perhaps if they can find her, they’ll find out.

…

…

A.S.S.F. Captain Greesha leads the group. Culpata and Salsan are directly behind her with Chylclanth covering the rear. Hopefully, being in the center, the non-field agents should be the least likely to get hit by an ambush. This does limit Captain Greesha to walking on the ground instead of swinging on her grappling hook, but she won’t leave the group until she knows that they can handle themselves. As her right leg, the metal one, comes down on the ground, she sees movement and snaps her leg back up before the snare can catch it. She stops and speaks to her captains without turning around, “Roll call.” Captain Greesha says quietly, scanning the area for more traps and possible pursuers. “Chylclanth?” “Here.” “Salsan?” “Here.” “Culpata?” “I’m here.” Captain Greesha begins walking forward again. “Be careful. Someone has laid snares on the ground.” Captain Greesha says, “I don’t know what other types of traps there might be. Keep an eye out.”

Salsan activates thermal vision on her night vision goggles. It’s amazing. She can see the heat of their trail of footprints behind them. And everyone she sees sticks out like a sore thumb. Captain Greesha has a lot of metal prosthetics, but those are still glowing a bit from being so close to Captain Greesha for so long. She can even make out the traps more easily because of the heat from someone handling them to set them up. She points out another snare, and they step around it. Salsan stops in place. “H-hey, stop!” Salsan sputters. Captain Greesha halts and everyone else does so as well. Salsan points to a figure in the distance, dangling from a rope on their ankles.

…

…

Ystra. “Dylishan’s Dread!” Ystra curses, yanking her thumb away from under the iron nail. She had yet again, accidentally hit her hand with the hammer. But this is the last board. “Congratulations, Ystra.” Lauren says sarcastically, “You’ve barricaded all of the exits. Now how will we get out?” Ystra shakes her head. She gets duct tape, scissors, and rags. She plugs the keyholes with cloth and tapes the edges of the windows and doors to the outside, sealing them completely. She closes every curtain she has. She tapes rags in front of the windows that don’t have curtains. Despite cutting off all outside light, it isn’t much darker inside than it was before because the sun has set and it’s pitch black outside. Lauren thinks she is being paranoid. But Ystra knows what she saw… err, she knows that she saw something. She isn’t sure exactly what. She could make out a hook… and was it like a giant mechanical spider? No, it was… she didn’t actually get a good look at it. The moment she realized that there was something hanging right above her door, she jumped inside and slammed the door closed.

Since then, Ystra has seen its barbed hook again, like a big basketball-sized fishing hook. Scraping against the window as it dangles from a metal chain. The hook has since moved. Ystra dreads where it might show up next. “If there is really a Screamer out there, why don’t you get rid of it with some witchcraft?” Lauren asks sarcastically. Ystra ignores her. It seems that Lauren is constantly mocking her inexperience. “I don’t think it’s a Screamer.” Ystra says “What kind of Screamer would use metal and technology?” Ystra decides that witchcraft might still be worth a try. She doesn’t have any souls or any of the more expensive materials. But Incorporation doesn’t cost anything. Maybe I can scare it away.

…

…

Isuertal. Isuertal claws her way through the underbrush, shaking the branches and leaves as she does so. The eyes of the man track the movement. But she isn’t worried about trying to be stealthy. She doesn’t know anything about this person, so she isn’t sure how to approach this. Well, when in doubt. Go with the basics. She puts on clawed gloves and decides to go with the standard “get them to let down their guard” tactic. I’ll start with a simple jumpscare to make them think I’m an amateur. Then I’ll use my “shapeshift” costume. She jumps from the bushes and growls, baring her teeth and claws at them. The glowing red eyes really sell the look. It’s really all the man can make out in the darkness. He holds out his pendant and starts mumbling in fear as Isuertal slowly stalks towards him. “I rebuke you by the foretold divinity that shall return!” The man shouts. The world erupts in a blinding flash of light. Isuertal covers her eyes, but it still isn’t enough. She howls out in pain and runs blindly into the bushes. The light fades and the man laughs nervously. “I can’t believe that worked!” He says, “Ha! I’m practically untouchable.” Isuertal hides in the bushes, hands still over her eyes, ignoring the branches and sticks scratching her skin. Maybe using Night Eye wasn’t a good idea.

She can’t blame the man for shining a light in her eyes, but she is surprised since she didn’t notice any obvious source of illumination. She should have realized it was a trap. No one just walks around without a light. She finally opens her watery eyes. She needs to think of a way to catch him by surprise, so he can’t flash her face with his light again. She considers as she listens to the man pace through the forests. She pours the Night Eye over the palms of her hands. She silently tails the robed man. She presses the palms of her hands against trees as she passes. Then she finds an especially brittle twig and prominently snaps it with her foot and waits just before the man fully turns to look behind him before jumping out of sight. She’s just a blur in the corner of his eye, leaving behind glowing dark red handprints on the bark of the trees.

…

…

A.S.S.F. Looking closely at it, only a few feet away now, it is definitely a human body. They’re not dead, just unconscious, hanging upside down by their ankles, wrapped up in a straight jacket. “Looks like this one got caught in a snare trap.” Chylclanth says, “What’s the point of being a pursuer if you’re not even going to catch your victims yourself?” Salsan just shakes her head. Captain Greesha whispers in a hushed, urgent tone. Her heart skips a beat. “Roll call.” Captain Greesha hisses, “Chylclanth?” “Here.” Chylclanth whispers back. “Salsan?” “Here?” Salsan whispers back. Salsan hopes Culpata caught the unspoken context that he needs to whisper. “Culpata?” “...” “Culpata?” “...” “Culpata, respond to roll call.” “...”

Salsan looks to her side. She could have sworn that Culpata was there just a moment ago. How have we already lost him? Salsan immediately starts looking for footprints. He must have left some sort of heat signature. She can’t fathom why she can’t see anything until she feels a cold breeze on her face. Where did my goggles go! She is starting to panic but takes calming breaths. “Not to worry anyone.” Salsan says, “But my goggles are missing.” Chylclanth rolls his eyes. “That hardly seems important when we’re missing Culpata.” He says. Salsan wants to explain how it is remarkable that she could possibly lose goggles strapped to her own head, so they were probably stolen. But she doesn’t want to argue with Chylclanth in front of Captain Greesha. Wait a second. “Captain Greesha! You can still use thermal vision.” Salsan says, “Can you see where Culpata went?” Captain Greesha nods and scans the ground for tracks. Captain Greesha stands up straight and looks directly at Salsan. Salsan turns around. Tripwires line the spaces between the trees. Those wires weren’t there before.

…

…

Ystra. “I think I have something that can help us.” Ystra says as she tries to remember where she put those old toys of hers, “You probably won’t like it, but it’s the bes-” Ystra’s phone starts ringing. She quickly pulls out to silence before the monster outside can hear her. The caller ID as A.S.S.F. It’s the Anti-Screamer Special Forces. I’m saved! She answers the phone. Before she can say anything she hears the deep gravelly voice of a woman on the other end of the call. “You’re in danger. We’ve tracked a Screamer to your location.” The voice says, “Head to 17th avenue, we’ve sent an agent there to escort you to the safe house there.” Ystra stares at the boarded up door. It’s still out there. She shakes her head. She wants to get out, to escape. And she’s glad that the A.S.S.F. are coming to help, but… “I can’t leave.” Ystra cries into the phone, “It’s right outside my house.”

“O-outside? Nevermind, you’ve seen it?” The voice asks, “What does it look like?” Ystra crouches to the ground and puts her back against the cupboard in the kitchen. “I didn’t get a good look at it. “Ystra sobs, “But it was like a metal spider with a hook on a chain.” The voice on the other end is momentarily disrupted by static before returning to normal. Static “-tal? I don’t know of any Screamer made of metal.” The woman’s deep gravelly voice over the phone says, “Are you sure it’s outside your house? From the boards on your windows, it must be in there with you, blocking off your escape.” Ystra stops crying. She freezes with fear. The person on the phone can see her house. She stands up and looks out through the windows. She doesn’t see anyone, but an agent of the A.S.S.F. might not immediately stick out. “Y-you’re outside?” Ystra asks, “C-come to the door!” Another momentary interval of static breaks up the voice on the other side. Static “-ing the doorbell again.” The woman’s deep gravelly voice says, breaking through static. Ystra steps towards the boarded up door but stops in her tracks. Again? Ring the doorbell again? Ystra hears the doorbell ring and a doorbell echoes out from her phone. She checks the peephole. There is no one there. No wait, I can see something! A chain hangs down from above, a hook on the end. It bumps to the side of the door and she can hear the doorbell ring again and also through the phone. “Are you going to an-” Static “-the door?” The voice asks from the phone. Ystra’s voice goes hard and smooth. “You’re not really the A.S.S.F.” Ystra says quietly into the phone, “I can see the hook dangling in front of the door. I’m not falling for your tricks, monster.” The voice at the other end gasps and quickly tries to explain itself. “Oh no, no I understand now. No no no, that’s me! I’m not a Screamer, I really am a human. The hook is just one my p-” Ystra hangs up the call. Ah, the storage room. That’s right. I remember now.

…

…

Isuertal. “I know you’re still following me.” The man in robes says, clutching the pendant hanging from his neck, “Show yourself!” Isuertal ignores his attempts to lure her back out into the open. Despite how much she wants to jump out at him, she knows that patience and timing are far more effective than repeated jumpscares. The less he sees of her, the better. She kind of ruined it by letting him get a good look at her in the blinding light. But she can still recover. She pulls out a small carving knife and quietly works chisels through the bark of a tree. For some reason, the man still walks in pitch black darkness. Isuertal can see fine, but this man should be using his light. He already showed his hand by flashing her with it. She already knows he has it, so why is he still not using his light to illuminate his path? She grabs a branch on the tree she is clinging to, and shakes the branch vigorously. Then she ducks out of sight behind the trunk of the tree and faces away from the man. As expected, a painfully bright flash of white illuminates the entire forest around her for a brief moment. In that she can see lumps of bodies scattered on the ground near where she first found him. “Come out, Screamer!” The man bellows behind her, “You can’t hide forever.” Isuertal is curious of what she saw in that momentary flash of light. The jumps through the bushes, making sure to purposefully rustle the leaves as she passes. She hears the furious footsteps chasing behind her. Silently changing direction, she steps to the side and watches as the man stomps right past her. That’s when she sees it, in one hand, he clutches his pendant, but in the other, a dagger glints red in her sight. Surely, that’s just the reflection of my dark red Night Eye, right? Isuertal knows that it can't really be blood. She pulls the same stunt after all, fake blood is a good scare method. But something about this person seems off to her in a way that just isn’t the same kind of scary as a meticulously crafted scare tactic. This guy isn’t careful. This guy isn’t sneaky. He doesn’t appear to be setting up traps. He doesn’t appear to have any plan other than pacing around and flashing anyone that he thinks he hears. Why doesn’t he have a constant lightsource? What’s the point of a knife covered in fake-blood if no one will ever see it? No. No one would take advantage of the Night Trials in that way! Isuertal slowly makes her way towards the bodies. How could someone so inept at scare tactics catch so many?

…

…

A.S.S.F. Salsan watches in horror. She doesn’t have her thermal vision goggles anymore, but she can still make out something dangling in the air through Captain Greesha’s headlamp beam. It’s another body caught in a straight jacket, dangling by their ankles. But something is reflecting the headlamp light on its face. Salsan looks closer. Then she gasps. “My goggles!” She points up to the body above the triplines. Salsan trembles. She isn’t a field agent. She isn’t supposed to be in situations like this. She knows that it is all fake. But she’s part of the information team for a reason. She can’t handle this kind of stress. She hopes they find Culpata soon. But the person up there has her goggles. No one else could have been close enough to take them from her. Could that be Culpata? The body starts to wriggle. It’s still conscious. Salsan freezes. Captain Greesha grabs her by the shoulder with a grappling claw on her left arm and pulls her back, away from the tripwires. Chylclanth growls into the darkness beyond the tripwires.

The person in the straight jacket above is swinging above. Salsan stares into the darkness. She can’t see anyone, but somebody must have set up those tripwires. “Where is it?” Salsan whispers, Greesha’s metal grappling hook still gripping painfully around her shoulder. Salsan hears the soft whir of motors and feels slight reverberations through the hook on her shoulder as Greesha spins about, searching for the culprit. Salsan holds her breath in anticipation. Then finally, the chilling words tumble from the gas mask behind her in the muffled, gravelly, deep, authoritative voice Salsan has come to expect from her captain. “I can’t find anyone besides the unconscious participant in a straight jacket dangling from his ankles behind us.” Greesha says quietly, like the soft grinding of gears. Salsan freezes at those words. “Chylclanth!” She yelps, “Shine your light upwards!” Chylclanth flicks on his flashlight, which he had neglected to use until now, and the wide beam illuminates the underside of the canopy. There they can see it clearly, like the cocoon of a butterfly that has just broken free of its shell, an open, empty straight jacket hangs upside down by a rope up in the trees.

…

…

Ystra. “I thought you got rid of those!” Lauren says in frustration as Ystra pulls out five different yo-yos, each marked with a different Screamer sigil on the side. Ystra sighs, “I haven’t been using them. I’ve just been keeping them, just in case.” Lauren snorts in anger. She doesn’t like that Ystra has kept those toys. Ystra used to incorporate Lauren into the yo-yo and then fling her about. But now is not the time to brood in resentment. No one would expect a toy to be used as a weapon. Ystra lays a hand on the neck of the Lauren’s equine manifestation and one hand over the yo-yo with the Incorporeal Screamer sigil. “Lauren, Incor-” As Ystra begins to speak, Lauren interrupts. “You need to use the Angel sigil!” Ystra frowns. She looks up at Lauren, trying to figure out if she is joking. Ystra knows she can’t be serious. Lauren’s perspective wouldn’t have changed so drastically overnight. But now isn’t the time for pranks. Ystra continues the incantation. “Lauren, Incorporate!” With her hand grasped firmly over the sigil for Incorporeal, Ystra gasps. Nothing happened. It didn’t work. She looks back at Lauren. “I told you, Ystra.” Lauren says haughtily, “You have to use the Angel sigil.” Ystra finds this unlikely. It is more likely that Lauren has regressed rather than broken out of the cycle. But she’d have to try all of the sigils one by one until she found which sigil fit Lauren’s current outlook on life, so she might as well start with Angel on the off-chance that she somehow broke out of the cycle. Ystra places her hand over the yo-yo with the Angel sigil, a yo-yo that she has never been able to use since she has never met a Screamer that has broken out of the cycle before. “Lauren, Incorporate.” The horse disappears before Ystra’s eyes, and her worries and paranoia heighten. She feels as though the monster she saw out the window could be hiding in every shadow, around every corner. S-so scared. Ystra thinks to herself, T-that means it’s w-working.

“L-Lauren, focus. W-we need precision.” Ystra stutters, yo-yo held in trembling hands, “I can’t confront that thing in this state!” She loops the yo-yo string around her fingers and holds it out in front of her so as to not touch the yo-yo itself but only the strings. Her worries suddenly seem childish. The monster is outside, it can’t reach her in here. “I can’t believe it. You really broke out of the cycle!” Ystra says now that her fear has mostly elapsed and she can fully comprehend the significance of what happened, “You’re stronger than before! You’re a one-in-a-million!” A figment in her mind, the illusion of Lauren in her humanoid form of an old woman appears in front of her. She can hear the old woman speak, though Ystra knows it’s all in her head. “It only took a few millennia.” Lauren the illusory old woman says in dull, dry, sarcasm. Ystra is still impressed despite the great length of time it took for Lauren to break out of the cycle. Most Screamers don’t survive long enough to develop this far, but still, there are some Screamers that have been around since soon after the Banshee Scream, and not all of them have progressed enough to escape the cycle. Ystra feels much more confident now. She grins and pulls the yo-yo back into the palm in her hand. She ignores the paralyzing terror that fills her as she touches the Screamer-Incorporated object. She slowly makes her way to the back door. “Here goes nothing.” Ystra says quietly. The illusory old woman in her mind snorts, “I hope we do a bit better than nothing.”

…

…

Isuertal. Isuertal climbs over the bodies dressed in costumes. Werewolves, vampires, even one covered in a shimmering coating to appear as a ghost. They’re pursuers. And the stab wounds on their chests look real. But Isuertal knows that it could be fake blood. People love setting up a scene. But who would volunteer to play dead? And how are they doing such a good job? Isuertal tries to calm herself. Maybe they’re just knocked unconscious and the man coated them in fake wounds and blood. Despite herself, she checks for a pulse on the dead “werewolf.” She sighs audibly. That’s a relief. They’re still alive. But… the pulse is so faint. How could they fake that? Her blood freezes with terror in realization. Footsteps stop behind her. She had been too loud. A sigh of relief just became a sigh of her demise… or it would be for a lesser human. Isuertal grits her teeth, frozen blood bursting aflame with burning anger. She jumps to her feet and turns to face the man who is now finally illuminated as his pendant glows like a torch. His pendant is a circle of 5 silver stars, and the blade at his hand, the dagger also appears to be silver. Not a suitable material for a blade. For that reason alone, Isuertal suspects that the murderers victims will survive. But she can’t let this man harm anyone else. She can’t believe someone would corrupt the tradition dear to her childhood and such a part of her life.

Isuertal accidentally bites her lip, spilling blood from the bottom of her mouth. She stares terrible hatred into the eyes of the man in robes. The man stumbles backwards, but raises his pendant. As he starts to sputter an incantation, Isuertal grabs hold of the silvery pendant in her clawed gloves and yanks it, causing the chain to cut into the man’s neck before it snaps. The man is now bleeding from the back of his neck and gasps in pain. But with the silver pendant in her hand. Isuertal is overcome with a stupor. It’s not real. It’s all pretend. Did I really get so mad at this guy because I thought was really hurting people? Isuertal no longer thinks the man is hurting people. She giggles. It’s all fun and games! The man staggers forwards with the silver dagger pointing at her. She glances at the dagger. It’s fake. A toy knife. I’ll play dead if he hits me in a vital point. But… he’ll have to catch me first! She smiles like a wild person, teeth showing through her open lips. The man’s eye twitches when he looks at her face. She holds the silver circle pendant of stars tight in her hands. Too tight. Her palms are beginning to bleed, but Isuertal doesn’t notice. It’s all fake anyway. She’s having too much fun. No one in the Night Trials has ever scared so sincerely as this man has, but now the fear is over. He’s an amateur at this game. The man thrusts forward with the dagger but Isuertal blocks with the pendant, laughing. She grunts in pain as the dagger breaks through the pendant, splintering it. The dagger continues to stab her in the stomach, grazing her bleeding hand that held the pendant. I feel a bit funny. The man pulls the dagger out red and wet. Isuertal can feel liquid dripping down her stomach from the point of impact. The man looks up at her face and gasps in horror. Isuertal smiling more than ever now. No one in the Night Trials has ever caused her to feel such pain as she feels right now. But she knows it’s all fake. Fake pain. How wonderful.

…

…

A.S.S.F. Greesha lifts her hook off from Salsan’s shoulder. But Salsan is leaning on her and is spooked by the shift. She loses balance as she is still staring at the canopy in shock. She stumbles, but as she steps to catch herself, she trips over some cords and lands in a canvas. A rope loops around her ankles and she feels the canvas close around her, a straight jacket. She hears a snap and the next thing she knows she is hanging upside down in the canoy beside another straight jacket that is eerily empty next to her. Another snaps sounds in the air. Another straight jacket rises up beside her, dangling from rope. But this one is empty. Then she hears it again, another snapping of rope, then another empty straight jacket joins them. Snap! Another empty straight jacket. What’s going on? Salsan can’t fathom why these traps are triggering. Salsan can see Captain Greesha and Chylclanth on the ground below her trying not to move lest they get caught in a trap. The person in the now-empty straight jacket was wearing my thermal vision goggles. They can see the traps! Salsan can see tripwires zip into place around them. It appears to be fired like a grappling hook launcher. But the one setting up the traps can’t possibly be the same person triggering the traps.

Salsan can hear an audible click and the triplines surrounding Captain Greesha and Chylclanth fall to the ground, limp. Then a cacophony of clicks and snaps chorus through the air as the underside of the canopy is filled with empty straight jackets hanging by their ankles, empty shells. She hears a cry of frustration beneath her. Then a green glow faintly lights up the silhouette form standing above a bunch of tripwire lines gathered together into a pile. A glowstick? Salsan thinks it’s a bit odd that the one who appears to have disarmed the traps would go by the light of a glowstick.

…

…

Ystra. Ystra tears down the planks blocking the door. Then, with the key in one hand, and her yo-yo in the other, she slowly unlocks the door. “Time to make a mad dash for some cover.” Ystra whispers. She thrusts the door open and starts sprinting. She can hear it scraping against the roof behind her. Metal against brick. Then a thud as it hits the ground. There is a dumpster only a few yards away, but what good would that do? She can’t escape this creature. She spins around, fear gripping her as she holds tightly to the yo-yo. Now she can see it, standing straight up like a human. The creature is dressed for combat and wears a bulletproof vest. Ystra might have mistaken this creature for a human if she hadn’t seen the hook swinging from a chain coming out of the hollow metal cylinder that is its left arm. The creature calmly walks forward, metal feet clanking against the pavement. It holds its left arm out in front of it, towards Ystra, the chain zips back into the cylinder with the whir of a motor and reaches from the left arm almost as though it were a hand. It’s dark, but Ystra can also see that its right arm is another hollow metal cylinder. She dreads to find out what might come out of that one. Ystra shakes off her overwhelming panic, convincing herself that the terror is from the Lauren incorporated into the yo-yo in her hand.

The figure is now only 10 feet away, Ystra steps forwards and throws the yo-yo at the creature, with the string connecting it back to her fingers, ready to recall it back to her hand after flashing the monster with a momentary nightmare. As the spins yo-yo flies through the air towards the monster. The figure raises their right arm, a hollow metal cylinder. Two small syringe-like projectiles launch at bullet-like speed both hitting the string between the thrown yo-yo and Ystra’s hand, severing the string. At the same time, the creature ducks beneath the yo-yo as it clatters to the ground behind her. The creature continues walking towards Ystra. Slowly. Step. By. Step. Ystra’s plan has failed. She can’t help but step back as the creature slowly approaches. Ystra bumps into something behind. The smooth metal of the dumpster. I’m done for! It’s got me cornered.

…

…

Isuertal. Explicit Violence. Isuertal slams her bloody palm full of splinters into the man’s shoulder, throwing him to the ground. The man frowns in fear. “W-why are you still fighting back?” He cries out. Isuertal feels like she’s in a dream, almost detached from her body. She can see what she’s doing and she knows she’s the one doing them. She loves the battle even if she knows it’s not real. “It’s all part of the fun!” Isuertal giggles in response, blood pouring from her mouth as she bites down far too hard in her excitement. She pounces onto the man, sliding her clawed gloves along his torso. The claws are made of flexible soft plastic, of course, so the bend backwards when pushed into the man with any force. The man’s puzzled expression at this fills Isuertal’s lungs with laughter. Tears are dripping down her face from her giggling fit. The constant stream is starting to wash away the Night Eye, causing dark red glowing trails to drip down her face. Isuertal backs off him and lifts him up by his neck and slams him up against a tree, still held tight in her grip. All of her actions are now entirely off instinct. She can’t process plans, tactics, or thoughts at this rate. The man raises his dagger to try to cut his way out of the chokehold but Isuertal slams her face into his, dazing him for a few seconds. But she holds her face there, forehead-to-forehead, nose-to-nose. Eye locked. “No one has made me feel this way before.” Isuertal whispers, blood sputtering from her mouth as she speaks, “C-could this be… lo-” Isuertal’s face is all red from the Night Eye now mixed with blood smeared all over her face, “-lo-lunch!” she finishes, with cackling laughter. A pain in her shoulder. Isuertal looks to the right to see the man has slammed the silver blade in her shoulder, narrowly missing her neck.

“Feisty.” Isuertal says in response to the blade, “Looks like I’m not the only one who’s hungry.” The man tries to shake his head free of the chokehold. Isuertal drops him, letting him fall three feet to the ground. She crouches down to his level and grabs the man’s chin and raises it so that he is facing her directly. “Such soft cheeks.” Isuertal says quietly, almost as though thinking aloud to herself, “I wonder if they’re edible.” The man rolls on his side out of Isuertal’s grip. Isuertal pounces again but he thrusts the dagger into Isuertal’s chest as she jumps upon him. So. Much. Pain. Isuertal is spitting up blood at this point, still smiling, the skin of her bottom lip caught in her teeth. Isuertal pulls back out of the dagger, but the man loses his slippery grip and the blade is so deeply lodged into her chest that it stays stuck in her as she backs away. Isuertal reaches into her backpack, pulling out a furry suit and a canine mask. “Doggy time!” Isuertal squeals, “Ooh! It’s so scary.” She quickly gets into the furry outfit and puts the mask over her face. “W-what?” The man exclaims, “It looks so real.” The man gasps and turns to glance at the bodies of his unconscious victims. Something seems to click in his brain. “Oh no, oh no, oh no!” He cries, “They weren’t Screamers! None of them fought like this. Only you, you’re the only one!” The man starts crawling backwards. Isuertal cackles through the mask. She slams her weight onto him again. Isuertal slams her masked face into the man’s shoulder over and over again. Eventually she bites through the mask and her teeth latch onto his shoulder. The man cries out in pain. She bounds around, leaping like a deer, dragging the man by his shoulder held in her teeth. Isuertal is starting to feel tired. She feels incredibly drained. She thinks she might faint. Why do I feel so tired? She climbs up a tree. Near the top she opens her mouth to speak but doing so drops the man. She jumps down, landing on the man. She hears something crack beneath her. The man isn’t moving anymore. Looks like he’s tired too. Looking at the body, the chest has deflated and she is standing in a hole where the man’s ribs used to be. “Ooh. That’s a great costume!” Isuertal says to herself.

…

…

A.S.S.F. The man with a glowstick in his hand walks slowly down to where Salsan heard the cry of frustration. Looking closer at the silhouette man, she can make out a reflective shimmer on its face. My goggles of thermal vision! The man slowly pursues the unseen trapper. A rope net flies from the darkness and ensnares the man with the glowstick. But the man just keeps walking, leaving the rope net behind. “No. No!” The unseen trapper shouts from below, clearly backing away from the approaching puruser. The man with the glowstick stops and pulls out a fire light lantern. He ignites, illuminating the area in flickering light. Salsan can now clearly see who holds the glowstick and who flees from him. She can also see that behind the trapper that backs away from the man with the glowstick and lantern, Captain Greesha looms, grappling claw ready to catch the trapper. Salsan can’t believe it. The man with glowstick is Culpata. He is dresed in his fancy clothes, including the tux he brought for the camp. Captain Greesha closes her arms around the trapper and stomps her way towards one of the snares that hasn’t yet been triggered. She drops on the canvas, trapping him in his own straight jacket to hang by a rope. Wait, where is Chylclanth? Salsan something grab around her. Its Chylclanth climbing down the tree from above. As he clings to her, he rips the straight jacket from her, just tearing right through it. “Wait, I’m gonna fall if you-” Salsan can’t finish before Chyclanth slashes her the rope around her ankle. She’s on the ground. “Ugh, I think I blacked out.” Salsan says.

She sees Culpata proudly standing next to a bunch of disarmed traps. Salsan looks to Captain Greesha to ask her about Culpata, but Captain Greesha speaks before she can voice her question. “All of my captains are incredibly capable.” Captain Greesha says, “Including you, Salsan. You all have great strengths, some of which, you do not yet realize.” Salsan gets so caught up in the mentoring speech that she forgets her question. Culpata hands her her goggles of thermal vision. “Thanks for letting me borrow these.” Culpata says, “They didn’t work on the pursuer though, only on the traps.” Salsan recognizes that what he says indicates something odd but she is in too much shock to understand the significance. She hears a shrill screech in the distance. Captain Greesha starts walking towards it. Salsan has no choice but to follow.

…

…

Ystra. “Why are you doing this?” Ystra cries out. The monster stops just in front of her. A deep gravelly voice of a woman shears out like metal grinding against metal, muffled by its gas mask. “Why am I doing… what?” It asks. The metallic monster lurches, swiftly swiveling to turn back towards the house. “There you are!” It snarls in that metal-grinding woman’s voice, “There it is! An Incorporeal.” The monster walks steadily forwards. But Ystra doesn’t see anyone over there. Lauren’s illusions. Ystra slowly rises to stand tall on her feet. I need to get my yo-yo and get out of here! She slowly circles towards the wall of her house where the yo-yo is lying on the ground. She makes sure to stay behind the monster. The gas-masked creature looks to the side at nothing. “What do you mean? It’s right there!” The monster’s muffled metal-screeching voice calls out, “Can’t you see it? It’s glowing. And it’s wounded. That’s no disguise. That’s real.” Ystra knows that Lauren’s illusions only appear in the mind of the target, rather than making an actual image that everyone can see. But Ystra can’t imagine what illusion Lauren is showing this creature to get them to react this way. Ystra has reached the wall of her house. But the monster turns back and faces in her direction. Ystra freezes.

Suddenly, the monster looks down at her feet. It raises her right leg, and says “I didn’t need that foot anyway.” Ystra takes her chance. She smoothly walks to the yo-yo on the ground and lifts it to her hand. A piercing paranoia fills her mind and she fears she won’t make it out of here alive. She pulls out more yo-yo string and twists it around the grooves of the yo-yo and launches the yo-yo out off her hand. The oppressive fear fades, but she still recognizes that she is in very immediate danger. The monster is looking at her again. “You’re just messing with me.” The monster says in a deep serious tone, “I know what I see. You can’t play pranks like that during a trust-building exercise.” As Ystra walks away and past the fence, the monster is still staring at the wall. But then it snaps its head to stare at Ystra. “An Illusion!” It shouts in anger, “Unacceptable. I will not allow illusions in this city.” Ystra grabs hold of her yo-yo once more despite its fear-inducing touch. She releases Lauren from the yo-yo and jumps onto the back. “Let’s go! Full gallop!” Ystra shouts as the screeching of metal against metal deafens her from behind. The monster is using the hook on its arm as a grappling hook, swinging from building to building, getting closer. But Lauren is no ordinary horse. The ride is actually quite smooth for Ystra as she doesn’t feel the impact of its hooves against the ground since there is no true body for it to reverberate back up. Ystra can tell that they’re definitely breaking the speed limit for the residential areas, but she doesn’t care. There is a monster after her, getting a speeding ticket is the least of her worries.

…

…

A.S.S.F. Captain Greesha stops walking suddenly. She points into the darkness. “There you are!” Greesha snarls in a voice Salsan has never heard from her before, it’s almost bestial, “There it is! An Incorporeal.” Salsan doesn’t see anything. She puts on her thermal vision goggles. She still doesn’t see anything. Even Chylclanth and Culpata look confused. Salsan isn’t going to be the one to tell the Captain that there’s nothing there. So she waits patiently for someone else to speak up. Finally, Culpata says, “I don’t see anything over there.” Captain Greesha turns to him. What do you mean? It’s right there!” Greesha yells far too loud for speaking to someone that is right next to her, “Can’t you see it? It’s glowing. And it’s wounded. That’s no disguise. That’s real.” Chylclanth puts an arm on Captain Greesha’s shoulder. “If this is too much for you, we can go back to the campsite.” Chylclanth says, “I’m sure Isuertal will understand.” Salsan can’t see through Captain Greesha’s gas mask, but she’s sure that her face would express absolute betrayal. Captain Greesha pushes Chylclanth’s arm off her and stomps forwards angrily. As she tears through bushes towards whatever she thinks she sees, Culpata calls out, “Wait, stop! There’s a-” It’s too late. Salsan hears a sickening snap. It’s a sort of bear trap. It’ll be a pain to get Captain Greesha’s metal foot free.

Captain Greesha yanks her right leg upwards, breaking it free of the metal foot still trapped inside the bear trap. “I didn’t need that foot anyway.” She says. Chylclanth steps forwards to help support Captain Greesha as she hops through the thick brush. Salsan doesn’t know where she is going, but she is worried at what this night trial is doing to Captain Greesha’s mind. Captain Greesha reaches out with her left arm, the grappling hook. She’s swinging it at something no one else can see in front of her.  “You’re just messing with me.” Captain Greesha says in a deep serious tone, “I know what I see. You can’t play pranks like that during a trust-building exercise.” Culpata is trembling. He huddles close to Salsan. Salsan backs away at Culpata's invasion of her personal space. Culpata speaks up in his quiet voice. “Captain, you should trust us.” Culpata says almost in a hushed whisper, “We’re telling you. We don’t see anything.” Captain Greesha stops moving. Salsan can barely make out the mumbling whispers muffled by the gas mask. “But if they’re telling the truth… and I’m not insane…” Captain Greesha mumbles, “Oh no.” A deep growl vibrates from Captain Greesha’s lungs. She shakes, but Salsan doesn’t think it’s from fear. An ear splitting screech like grinding metal fills the air, louder than even the sobbing siren had been. Even Chylclanth drops Greesha to cover his ears. “An Illusion!” Captain Greesha shouts in anger with a voice like scratching metal, “Unacceptable. I will not allow illusions in this city.” She launches her grappling hook and swings out of sight. Salsan is terrified. Not only has the Captain abandoned them in the forest at night with everyone trying to scare them, but Captain Greesha herself is clearly no in her right mind and might be a real threat to the participants of the night trials.