A mournful howl, pained and starving, echoed through the night. It was a sound that resonated in the depths of BRUJO-2's soul, a lament for a world that had fallen into shadow. The atmosphere was heavy with sulfer, carbon, ozone.
In the inky obscurity, BRUJO-2's senses sharpened, attuned to the silent nuances of no-man's land. An uneasy silence settled in the air. Shadows shifted among skeletal trees, a flicker of movement that tugged at the edges of BRUJO-2's vision. BRUJO-2 silenced his breath and strained to hear any sounds of natural life, but the flickering shadows were soundless. Was it mere illusion, born of exhaustion and fear?
The cold seeped deeper into their bones. BRUJO-2 aimed their rifle towards the elusive shape, determined to confront the malevolent presence that haunted their existence. their heart thundered in their chest, a steady rhythm of dread in the face of the unknown. It was almost sunrise, but no sunlight would come over the horizon.
A voice crackled over the radio, belonging to WITCH-1, the grizzled veteran who had stared into the abyss and lived to tell the tale. "BRUJO-2, any signs of movement out there?"
"I thought I saw something, WITCH," BRUJO-2 replied, their voice much steadier than their trembling nerves.
BRUJO-2 nodded, their gaze locked on the shadows, their senses tingling with anticipation. The night was no longer silent; it wtheirpered secrets and harbored unseen horrors. Leaves rustled in the wind, the distant wolf's cry echoed, and then... ominous, mournful voices drifted on the breeze, like the anguished cries of the damned. The wolf yelped before it, too, went dark.
BRUJO-2's grip tightened on their rifle as the shadows converged, coalescing into grotesque, writhing forms that slithered through the trees. their heart raced, beads of sweat forming on their brow. Fear gripped him, but they held their ground, resolve rooted deep.
"WITCH-1," they whispered into the radio, "I'm hearing something strange, something I can't explain."
The radio sputtered and whined, the faint voice of WITCH-1 could barely be heard: "...signs of movement..."
As BRUJO-2 continued to watch, the sinister shapes solidified, grotesque forms born from the darkest recesses of their imagination. Eyes gleamed malevolently, voices grew louder, a cacophony of madness that threatened to eclipse their sanity. Terror clawed at him, but they stood firm, their training and programming refusing to yield.
