Mission type: Retrieval part 4

I woke up, the weight of last night's events still pressing down on me. My mind raced as I quickly got ready, formulating a plan to reach the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. The path ahead was fraught with danger, but I couldn't let that stop me. The act of making breakfast helped clear my head, the repetitive motions offering a moment of focus amidst the chaos. Once done, I grabbed my bag, slipped into my car, and headed to school. The familiar streets felt oddly distant today, the comfort of routine slipping through my fingers.

As soon as I stepped into my classroom, I could feel it a strange, thick tension hanging in the air. Something was off, but I couldn't pinpoint exactly what. The usual chatter and energy were subdued, like the entire room was holding its breath. I pushed it aside, though, forcing myself to focus. I had a plan, and now wasn't the time for distractions.

I sat at my desk, pretending to take notes, but my mind was elsewhere. Every so often, I'd feel their eyes on me quiet, observant, but never overt. It was as if they were trying to read me, to figure out what I was planning. I couldn't let them. Cheryl was supposed to be sent to the Sisters of Quiet Mercy by her mother, if I remembered correctly. That piece of the puzzle had to fit into the larger picture.

A few hours later, the bell rang, signaling the end of the class. I made my way to the lounge, searching for a moment of peace. I sank into one of the chairs, the hum of idle chatter around me only heightening my sense of urgency. I needed to figure out my next move, but I couldn't ignore the quiet whispers from across the room. Archie, Betty, Jughead, and Veronica were speaking in hushed tones, their eyes frequently flicking in my direction. It was as if they were discussing something important something they didn't want me to overhear. The undercurrent of suspicion was palpable. Whatever they were talking about, it was clearly about me.

I pretended not to notice them, keeping my expression neutral as I casually flipped through my notebook. Then, after a few minutes, I feigned an absentminded sigh, closed the book, and stood up.

"I'm heading to the bathroom," I muttered just loud enough for them to hear.

Before leaving, I made sure to leave my notebook on the chair, strategically open to a page filled with key terms Fox Forest, the Gargoyle King, G&G, Fizzle Rocks, the Sisters of Quiet Mercy all circled multiple times as if they were the most important pieces of a puzzle. A calculated move. Bait.

I exited the lounge and made my way down the hall. I didn't rush. Gave them enough time. Long enough for their curiosity to get the better of them.

After a few minutes, I returned, stopping just outside the lounge. Through the glass doors, I saw them huddled together, leaning over something my notebook. They were fully engrossed, whispering in hurried tones, their expressions shifting between confusion and concern.

Then, as if sensing my approach, they quickly dispersed. By the time I stepped back inside, they were seated as if nothing had happened calm, collected, acting too normal.

But I noticed the small details.

The notebook, which I had placed neatly on my chair, was now slightly off by about five centimeters. A few pages were subtly crinkled, as if they'd been turned hastily. One of my pens, which I'd left on top of the book, had rolled a little further than it should have.

I glanced at them, but they didn't meet my gaze right away.

They knew something now. Or at least, they thought they did.

And that was exactly what I wanted.

If someone or something was accelerating the plot, why shouldn't I do the same?

I leaned back in my seat, fingers idly tapping against my notebook as if deep in thought. In reality, I was gauging their reactions. The stolen glances. The hushed whispers. The tension in their shoulders.

They had taken the bait.

I smirked internally. Good.

If the universe wanted to push things along at an unnatural pace, I might as well take control of the narrative myself. Stir the pot. Lay down breadcrumbs. Guide them toward the truths hidden beneath their own fabricated reality.

This wasn't just about playing along anymore.

This was about making sure I wasn't just a spectator in someone else's story.

After school, I headed straight to my car, making sure to plant a few carefully placed breadcrumbs just enough to stir curiosity if someone really started looking.

A few scattered papers in the glove compartment. A blurred photo of The Farm tucked between receipts. An old business article about Hiram Lodge's empire folded in the side pocket of the door. Nothing too obvious. Nothing that screamed conspiracy. But enough to make someone pause if they were snooping.

And knowing these people? Someone would snoop.

Then, because the universe apparently had a flair for the dramatic, it started raining. Hard.

By the time I pulled up to the front of the school, the downpour had turned into a full-on storm. Through the streaked windshield, I saw Veronica slipping into a sleek black limo, leaving Jughead, Betty, and Archie stranded under the awning, huddled together as they tried and failed to shield themselves from the rain.

I rolled down my window, letting the sound of the storm fill the space.

"You guys need a ride?" I called out, acting casual, like this was just a coincidence. "It's coming down pretty hard."

They exchanged glances. Suspicious, but not stupid enough to reject shelter from the storm.

"Yeah," Archie said first, rubbing the back of his neck. "That'd be great, actually."

Betty and Jughead hesitated a beat longer before nodding.

"Thanks," Jughead muttered as they climbed in.

As they settled into their seats, dripping water onto the floor mats, I shifted the car into drive.

Now, the real game began.

As they settled into the car, I casually reached for the stereo, selecting a track from Evolto City's underground music scene. The song, "Veil of Ash," played softly through the speakers its eerie, atmospheric tones a stark contrast to the usual noise of Riverdale. I glanced at the rearview mirror, watching them subtly shift in their seats, uncomfortable with the unfamiliar music. It was intentional, of course. Another layer of misdirection.

Just as I was about to focus back on the road, a sudden sound broke through the soft beats of the track a phone ringing. I froze for a moment, then noticed the source: my glove compartment. The device Dr. Wagner had given me, cleverly disguised as a regular phone, was vibrating insistently.

Without missing a beat, I turned to Archie. "Hey, can you grab that for me? I think it's important."

Archie shot me a curious look, then reached over and opened the glove box. His eyes landed on the photo of the Sisters of Quiet Mercy, a hospital photo that looked far too official for any casual viewer. The image showed the looming institution, its cold, stark walls adding to its intimidating reputation. I could feel his gaze on it as he pulled it out, but I quickly adjusted my posture, trying to keep the mood light.

As he handled the photo, I answered the call, sliding the device to my ear in a smooth motion.

"Hello?"

A familiar voice crackled through the speaker, low and controlled. "It's me, Wagner. Talk to me about what you've found."

I exhaled slowly, shifting into the role I'd practiced, keeping my voice steady. "Well, everything's going as expected, but there's something about the Sisters of Quiet Mercy that I need to mention. They've got a patient there one who's been... given treatment that doesn't add up. And I think we're looking at something bigger. The drug they're using Fizzle Rocks... seems like a regular treatment at first, but it's anything but."

I glanced at the rearview mirror, catching Jughead's suspicious glance. He was no fool, and I could feel his eyes narrowing, but I maintained my composure, focusing on the conversation.

"I'm not sure if it's just a coincidence, but I have reason to believe it's being supplied from the highest levels," I continued, careful with my wording, never directly naming names. "It's like someone's pulling the strings, and it's all tied into the bigger picture the operation in The Sister of Quiet Mercy. I've got a lead on the location of the MDFG. It's not far from here, hidden in plain sight."

I hesitated for a moment, feeling the tension building in the car. The phone line was dead silent except for the occasional crackle of static.

I could feel the others watching me closely now, especially Archie, who was still holding the photo of the Sisters of Quiet Mercy in his hands. It was a thin thread, but it was enough to keep their minds churning, wondering what I knew.

I almost slipped. The name almost came out my real name but I caught myself just in time.

"Anyway, I'll keep you updated. We can't let our sister slip away in that place. I'm sure you're aware of how... questionable their treatment is, especially with the kinds of drugs they've been handing out. We need to get to the bottom of it. And I'll figure out the rest."

I ended the call with a smooth, practiced click, cutting the connection before it became too obvious. But as I hung up, I let the silence fill the car, leaving them with that lingering tension.

Archie still clutched the photo, his expression unreadable. Jughead and Betty had all noticed the shift, but I'd made sure they hadn't caught on to the full picture. As I drove through the rain-soaked streets, I couldn't help but wonder how much did they really know? How much would they dig?

They all sat there in silence, the tension between us palpable. I could feel their eyes on me, each one of them no doubt itching to ask questions, but none of them spoke. It was a calculated move on their part, either out of fear of getting too close to something they didn't fully understand, or perhaps out of respect for my carefully curated calm demeanor. I was fine with that; the less they knew, the better.

Breaking the silence, I asked casually, "So, where are you guys headed?" I needed to steer the conversation in a direction I could control, make it seem like just another ride in the rain.

Betty and Archie gave me their addresses, and I began the familiar route, driving toward the first house Archie's.

The rain had lightened up by the time we reached his place, but the dark clouds still hung in the air. I pulled up the driveway slowly, making sure to take in every detail. As I stopped in front of his house, I noticed the familiar figures of Archie's parents standing on the porch, watching my car intently. Their eyes were sharp, assessing almost like they were waiting for something, or perhaps anticipating something they didn't want to see.

Archie and Betty got out of the car, giving me polite goodbyes before heading to the door. I watched them go, then drove away, but not before I caught one last glance at the concerned looks on his parents' faces.

I didn't slow down, though. As I neared Jughead's house, I decided to steer the conversation in a direction that would keep him at ease, even if it wasn't entirely truthful. I glanced over at him, trying to sound casual. "So, what are your plans today?" I asked, hoping to get some kind of answer without it seeming suspicious.

He seemed distracted at first, but then he shrugged. "Nothing too exciting. Just the usual stuff. Why?"

I hesitated for just a moment before adding, "Well, I'm planning on heading to Fox Forest later today. There's a specific type of rare mushroom I've been hearing about, and I figured I'd go check it out."

It was a lie, of course, but I needed him to buy it. Fox Forest was my next stop, and I wasn't about to tell him the real reason investigating the location of the MDFG.

He looked at me with a slight raise of an eyebrow. "Mushrooms, huh? Interesting." His tone was casual, but I could tell his mind was already ticking. If anyone was going to question me, it'd be Jughead. But I knew him well enough by now he wouldn't just let it go. He'd either secretly follow me or, more likely, tell the others Veronica, Betty, and Archie what I was planning.

I made sure to give him a small, nonchalant smile. "Yeah, you know, just something to kill time."

When we finally reached his house, he got out of the car, and I could see him walking toward the front door. But as he was leaving, something caught my eye a slight movement, a quick glance at my seat. It was subtle, but I noticed it.

Jughead had taken something from the passenger seat. The bait. The specific photo of Hiram's empire and the subtle hint about his involvement with the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. The one that tied him to the larger network I was digging into.

My grip tightened on the steering wheel as I watched him walk into the house, realization dawning on me. Jughead had taken the bait.

As night fell, I made my way to Fox Forest, the rain from earlier leaving the ground damp and the air thick with the scent of wet earth. The deeper I went, the more the trees bore signs of something unnatural. Their bark warped and cracked, twisting in ways that defied nature. Some sections of the forest looked untouched, while others seemed to be in the middle of being unmade and remade at the same time. The MDFG's presence was growing stronger. Whatever it was doing, it was accelerating.

I followed the trail of distorted trees, their gnarled branches stretching toward me like grasping hands. Every so often, I would pause, listening for movement. The forest had an eerie stillness to it no rustling leaves, no chirping insects. Just silence.

I exhaled slowly. I have to get into the Sisters of Quiet Mercy asylum.

If my memory served me right, there was a way in a secret passage by the river. It wasn't well-known, but it had been used before. If I could find it, I'd have a chance to slip inside unnoticed.

I kept moving, my steps careful, my eyes scanning the darkness ahead. The forest was a maze, but I knew I was close. The truth was waiting on the other side of that asylum's walls.

As I approached the river's edge, the dark water reflecting the faint light of the moon, my comm device buzzed again. This time, it wasn't Dr. Wagner. The name that flashed on the screen made my heart skip Zalthorion.

His voice, cool and authoritative, crackled through the device.

"Mission duration has changed. You have five days left. Use any means possible."

His tone shifted, becoming more serious. "The MDFG is destabilizing at a faster rate than before. The only way for that to happen is if somebody did it."

I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. Zalthorion's words hit harder than I expected. Whatever I was up against, it was accelerating growing more dangerous by the second.

"Whoever is responsible for this isn't just playing with fire. They're setting the world ablaze," Zalthorion continued. "You need to move fast. And this time, don't hold back."

The line went dead.

Five days.

That was the time frame. The clock was ticking, and I had no choice but to keep pushing forward. The situation was dire, and I couldn't afford to waste time. I had to find the source of the destabilization and fast. Whoever was behind it had to be stopped, or the consequences would be catastrophic.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. The river flowed quietly ahead, and just beyond it lay the entrance I needed. The mission had shifted. There was no more room for hesitation.

I crossed the water quickly, focusing on my next move getting inside the Sisters of Quiet Mercy asylum.

As I slipped through the narrow secret passage, the cold stone walls of the asylum greeted me. My footsteps were muffled by the damp floor, and the smell of mildew and old stone permeated the air. This wasn't the same silent, foreboding place I had come to know from my research it was something much more dangerous.

I crept further into the asylum, using the darkness as cover. The basement, once a quiet, abandoned space, was now a far cry from its former state. The room that should have been filled with cold, dusty shelves was instead crawling with gang members, armed and alert. They moved with purpose, their eyes scanning the room, some pacing, others conversing in hushed tones.

This wasn't part of the plan. The basement had always been a potential entry point into the deeper parts of the asylum, but not like this. The sheer presence of these gang members was an unexpected development. I had come here to find clues, to understand what was really happening with the MDFG, but now I was staring down a much more immediate threat. The basement, once abandoned, was now a hive of activity.

I pulled back into the shadows, every muscle in my body tense. They were everywhere, but none had noticed me yet.

The mission had shifted again. I had to get past them without drawing attention, or the entire plan would fall apart before it even began. The gang members weren't just random criminals they were organized, dangerous, and seemingly well-armed.

My eyes scanned the room, looking for an exit or a way to move deeper into the asylum without alerting anyone. Every door, every shadow seemed like it could lead to something else, something more dangerous than what was already before me.

I needed to stay focused. Time was ticking. The MDFG was destabilizing, and now this... whatever had turned the basement into a gang stronghold was part of the same web I was caught in.

I inhaled deeply, steadying my nerves. I had come this far. There was no turning back now.

As I crouched in the shadows, my mind worked quickly, analyzing the new threat before me. The basement was teeming with gang members, an unexpected complication in an already volatile situation. But I was not unprepared. I had access to a unique ability one that could give me the edge I needed in this dangerous environment: the power to craft weapons.

I focused my energy inward, honing my senses to the raw potential around me. I could feel the tension in the air, the subtle vibrations that signaled my connection to the space. The power surged through me as I concentrated, shaping the ambient energy into something solid and lethal.

My hands crackled with a faint pulse as I shaped the energy into knives. They materialized in the air, their sleek forms appearing before me with a soft shimmer. The edges were impossibly sharp, each blade designed with one purpose in mind silent takedowns. They were balanced perfectly, their weight ideal for quick, lethal precision. The blades shimmered in the dim light, and I felt the familiar reassurance that only a well-crafted weapon could provide.

With a quiet exhale, I grasped one of the knives, testing its weight and balance. It was perfect deadly, efficient, and light in my grip. I felt ready. The others materialized beside me, an arsenal of silent, lethal tools designed for the sole purpose of striking from the shadows.

I knew what I had to do next. The gang members in the basement were still oblivious to my presence. That was key. Every move had to be calculated, deliberate. I couldn't afford to make a sound.

I reached out, tapping into my umbrakinesis. I could feel the shadows around me responding, shifting at my command. One by one, I began to snuff out the lights above, plunging the room into near-total darkness, save for the faintest flickers of dying bulbs. The atmosphere grew heavier, more oppressive, and I used that to my advantage.

With the lights extinguished, I melted into the blackness, my form almost undetectable. The gang members, still unaware, moved about with their back to me, oblivious to the danger lurking just out of sight.

I moved swiftly, a ghost in the shadows. The first thug was nearby, leaning against a crate, his guard down. He never saw me coming. With a flick of my wrist, the first knife flew, striking with deadly accuracy. He crumpled to the floor silently, his body slumping with barely a sound.

I moved again, fluid, like a ripple in the dark. The next target was closer to the door. I crouched low, slipping between the rows of crates. I drew another knife and crept up behind him, the blade now in my hand with a precision that came from years of practice. In a flash, the thug was on the floor, rendered unconscious before he could even make a sound.

With each strike, I took out another thug, my movements so seamless and quiet that it felt like the shadows themselves were aiding me. One by one, I incapacitated them, leaving no trace of my presence behind. The basement grew quieter with each passing moment, only the faint hum of machinery and the occasional scuffle of a body breaking the silence.

The tension in the air was palpable, but I remained calm. I knew what was at stake. The MDFG was destabilizing faster than anyone had anticipated, and I needed to uncover the truth, no matter the cost. The gang members were just obstacles in my path, but the deeper I went, the closer I would get to the heart of the operation and to the answers I so desperately needed.

The basement was now nearly empty, the bodies of the gang members lying undisturbed in the shadows. I surveyed the area, making sure no one else was lurking in the dark corners, before proceeding toward my next objective. The mission wasn't over yet, but with the knives in my hands and the shadows as my ally, I was more than prepared to face whatever came next.

As I moved up from the basement to the upper floors, I remained cautious. Thankfully, there were no more gang members only the Sisters of Quiet Mercy patrolling the dimly lit halls. Their presence wasn't unexpected, but it still meant I had to be careful. These women weren't fighters, but they were vigilant, and I couldn't risk raising any alarms.

I kept to the shadows, my footsteps silent against the cold floor. The asylum's atmosphere was oppressive sterile, yet suffocating. The flickering fluorescent lights cast eerie glows on the cracked walls, and faint murmurs of prayer echoed through the halls.

As I moved, I passed a small cell. I barely glanced inside at first, but something made me stop. Inside, curled against the wall, was Cheryl Blossom.

She was crying.

That was unexpected. I had only spoken to her briefly before, and she had always carried herself with an air of confidence arrogance, even. Yet here, stripped of her usual fire, she looked small. Pitiful. The sight of her, broken and vulnerable, unsettled me more than I wanted to admit.

I exhaled slowly, then leaned in just enough to whisper through the bars.

"Hey, Cheryl."

Her sobs hitched. She lifted her head slightly, red-rimmed eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, there was only silence, the weight of my presence sinking in. Then, recognition flashed in her gaze followed by something else. Hope.

"Be quiet," I whispered sharply as I worked on the lock, my fingers moving quickly but precisely. The last thing I needed was for the Sisters to hear us.

Cheryl wiped her eyes, nodding frantically, her body tense with anticipation.

With a soft click, the lock gave way. I eased the door open just enough for her to slip out.

"Listen," I murmured, keeping my voice low. "There's a secret passage in the basement. That's how I got in. Go through there it'll lead you out. Stay low, stay quiet, and don't stop until you're clear of this place."

She swallowed hard, her usual sharp demeanor buried beneath exhaustion and fear. But she didn't hesitate.

"What about you?" she whispered.

I glanced down the hallway, ensuring the path was still clear.

"I have unfinished business."

As I moved through the dimly lit halls, my suit shifted seamlessly, adapting to the colors and textures of the environment. The once stark contrast of my form blurred into the walls, making me nearly invisible to the patrolling Sisters. Every step was calculated, every breath controlled.

Then, as I neared the head Sister's office, something strange happened. The tracker in my pocket previously silent began to vibrate. Slowly at first, then with more intensity the closer I got.

I halted, pressing myself against the wall. This wasn't normal. The tracker wasn't just reacting to the location it was reacting to something inside.

Something was here. Something wrong.

I took a steady breath, refocusing. Whatever was behind that door, it wasn't just the head Sister. And I needed to be ready.

I pushed the door open cautiously, the creaking sound almost deafening in the stillness. What I saw on the other side was nothing short of nightmarish. The air felt thick, like it was charged with an unnatural force, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

The walls of the room were distorted, their molecular structure seemingly torn apart and constantly being reformed. It was as if the very fabric of reality itself was being manipulated destroyed and rebuilt in a cruel, never-ending cycle.

At the far end of the room, a grotesque sight met my eyes. The head Sister, or what was once her, was grotesquely fused to the wall. Her body was no longer fully human. Her organs, exposed and twitching, seemed to pulse with life, their movements unnatural. The fusion wasn't just physical—it was as though her essence was being drained, absorbed into the very fabric of the walls.

I felt a wave of nausea wash over me, but I fought it back. This was no ordinary experiment. No, this was something far darker. Something that shouldn't exist.

The tracker in my pocket vibrated harder, a sharp warning in my ear, as if urging me to move. But I couldn't tear my eyes away from the horrifying scene in front of me. Whatever had happened to the head Sister, it was linked to the destabilizing force of the MDFG.

I needed to gather more information, but I couldn't stay in this room for long. The implications of what I was witnessing were far-reaching. This place, this asylum, was far more than a containment facility it was a twisted breeding ground for something else. Something dangerous.

I reached for the tracker, its faint hum vibrating in my hand as it guided me toward the cabinet. The air around me grew heavier, and the room seemed to pulse in sync with the tracker's vibrations. Each step felt like a delicate dance between discovery and danger.

I approached the cabinet, its surface dark and worn, as though it had been untouched for years. With a slow, deliberate motion, I pulled open the door.

Inside, sitting quietly on a pedestal, was the MDFG. But something was different. The object, which I had only known as a dormant anomaly, was now radiating a faint, yet unmistakable energy. It hummed and crackled softly, as if it were alive. A strange aura clung to it an energy that felt both cold and suffocating.

As I drew closer, the air around the MDFG began to distort. Tiny sparks of energy flickered in the atmosphere, like electricity crackling in a storm, making the hairs on my arms stand on end. It was as though the MDFG was no longer passive it was actively destabilizing everything around it.

I glanced around, feeling the weight of the room's charged atmosphere pressing down on me. The walls, the floor, even the air seemed to be warping. The very space was trembling as if it was caught in the throes of some impending collapse. This wasn't just an object it was a catalyst, and the forces it was releasing were clearly more dangerous than I had anticipated.

My mind raced. The MDFG wasn't just affecting the immediate area it was changing the very structure of this place. And if I didn't act fast, the consequences could be catastrophic.

I reached out cautiously, keeping a safe distance from the pulsing energy, and activated the tracker to analyze the object's signature. I needed to understand exactly what was happening. Was this energy tied to the destruction of the Sister's body? Was it tied to the destabilization of the MDFG itself?

I couldn't afford to wait any longer. I had to either neutralize it or find a way to contain it before everything spiraled out of control.

But soon it vanished and soon as the MDFG vanished, the entire room began to distort. The walls stretched and warped, and the air thickened, like the very fabric of reality was unraveling. It was a surreal, nauseating sensation, as if I was being pulled into an alternate dimension where nothing was as it seemed. My heart raced as I tried to make sense of what was happening.

Then, from the shifting distortion, a figure emerged. It wasn't Hiram Lodge not anymore. His body moved with a strange, unnatural precision. His eyes were glowing with an eerie golden light, their intensity almost blinding. In his hand, he held the MDFG, and it pulsed with a sinister energy that made the air hum with static.

I stepped back, my breath catching in my throat as the realization hit me.

"Hiram?" I asked, the confusion in my voice barely masking the fear.

The figure smiled, but it wasn't Hiram's smile. It was something colder, more calculated. "Hello, Jake... or should I say Nyxia?"

My heart skipped a beat at the mention of my name. How did he know that? Before I could process the shock, the figure spoke again, his voice now smooth and almost mocking.

"I am not Hiram. I'm just... commandeering his body for the time being. I am Xytheron Null," he said, his tone almost casual, as if we were old friends catching up. "But you can call me Xytheron. It's good to see you, brother."

Before I could respond, a sudden sound broke through the tension in the room. I turned, only to see a familiar group walking in Archie, Veronica, Betty, Jughead, and Cheryl. They stood frozen in the doorway, their eyes wide with shock as they took in the scene before them.

"Dad?" Veronica's voice wavered, filled with disbelief.

Xytheron turned slowly, his smile stretching unnaturally wide as he met their gaze. "Ah, my daughter. How nice of you to join us," he said, his voice dripping with an almost eerie affection. The words didn't sound like Hiram at all they were cold, deliberate, calculated.

In that moment, everything seemed to freeze. The room, the air, the world itself it all felt suspended in time, and I realized that Xytheron was more than just a threat. He was in control of something far greater than I could have ever anticipated.

Jughead's Monologue:

"It was supposed to be just another normal day, right? One of those days where the most we'd have to worry about was where to get dinner or which homework we forgot to do. But nothing's ever that simple in Riverdale, is it? Not when you're surrounded by secrets and lies, when everyone has a hidden agenda some more dangerous than others."

"I always thought I understood this town. Its mysteries, its darkness. But this... this is different. A different kind of game, a different kind of danger. And it's not just Hiram Lodge anymore. It's something far worse. Something that has the power to change everything."

"The world we thought we knew, the family we thought we understood it's all slipping away, and none of us are really safe. We thought we were just playing in the shadows, but now... the shadows are playing us. As I look around at my friends, at the people I've known my whole life, I can't help but wonder: How much longer do we have before this world collapses on us? Before we're all caught in its wreckage?"

"The truth is, we may never get the answers we're looking for. And maybe that's the scariest part of all."