Ross Gold #79

Scanning the beach, Daniel’s eyes quickly landed on Ross, who stood nearby, basking confidently in the sunlight. Ross was handsome, athletic, and tan, his posture relaxed yet full of quiet self-assurance. Shirtless and wearing shiny black athletic shorts, Ross's attire gleamed strikingly under the sun's warm rays. Daniel, drawn by an instinctive friendliness, approached and introduced himself. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, marked by smiles and easy laughter, as though they'd known each other for far longer than just a few moments. Feeling comfortable, Daniel suggested a friendly game of catch, and Ross agreed enthusiastically.

The first throws were relaxed, playful exchanges. Each pass and catch seemed to subtly energize Ross, gradually shifting his behavior. He began crouching lower to catch the ball, reacting more swiftly, with a playful pant occasionally slipping from his lips. His eyes brightened with each throw, his expressions becoming more animated, his responses shorter, simpler, more instinctual.

With every toss of the football, Ross’s behavior continued to evolve. He soon began chasing the ball eagerly, even dropping momentarily to all fours, only to quickly stand again with a laugh, unaware of his increasing playfulness. Daniel noticed a subtle but unusual change; the shiny material of Ross’s shorts appeared smoother, more seamless, and began to creep upwards along his sides. Ross himself seemed oblivious, entirely focused on retrieving the ball. Daniel playfully encouraged him, calling out, “Go fetch it!” This encouragement seemed to amplify Ross’s energy, his movements increasingly dog-like, though he seemed unaware of these changes himself.

As the game progressed, the transformation accelerated with remarkable clarity. The rubbery gloss spread meticulously over Ross's toned muscles, encasing his legs and torso completely. It moved like liquid silk, forming an impeccable, smooth, and uninterrupted surface, glossy and reflective beneath the sunlight. Ross’s fingers gradually stiffened, merging together as the rubber enveloped his hands entirely, reshaping them into smooth, rounded paws perfectly suited to fetch but no longer capable of complex tasks. The feeling must have been strange, yet Ross showed no discomfort—his eyes filled only with enthusiasm and playful eagerness.

The change reached his neck, climbing upward with relentless precision. Ross tilted his head back briefly, instinctively allowing the rubber to slide smoothly around his throat. The material began shaping itself into a tight, seamless pup mask, gradually covering his face completely. It formed first around his jaw and mouth, gently forcing his lips together and molding them into a smooth, featureless muzzle. The rubber rose higher, covering his nose and reshaping it into small, canine-like nostrils, allowing him to breathe easily yet subtly reinforcing his new identity.

Ross’s eyes widened momentarily as the glossy rubber covered his forehead and temples, perfectly encasing his features beneath a sleek, polished canine hood. Human expressions melted away beneath this smooth surface, replaced by a simple yet expressive rubber mask adorned with pointed, attentive ears positioned atop his head. His hair disappeared seamlessly beneath the mask, leaving nothing visible of the man he once was, only the perfect, gleaming form of an obedient pup.

Now fully transformed, Ross dropped instinctively onto all fours, bounding energetically after the ball. His movements were fluid and natural, fully canine in grace and exuberance. The mental shift was unmistakable as words faded from his thoughts, replaced by pure instinctual joy. The sounds Ross made were no longer human—excited barks and soft, plaintive whimpers replaced speech entirely.

With every return of the ball, Ross's posture became more submissive, his rubber body eagerly presenting the retrieved object at Daniel's feet, tail wagging enthusiastically behind him. Recognizing the transformation was complete, Daniel tossed the ball one last time. Ross chased after it with unrestrained vigor, returning proudly with the football gripped gently in his sleek muzzle.

As Ross approached, a glossy black collar began forming around his neck, materializing as though conjured by his submission. It tightened comfortably, settling snugly into place with a clear, definitive click. A gleaming metal tag dangled from it, etched with the name "Pup Ross." As the collar locked, a final mental shift solidified—Ross’s human thoughts vanished entirely, replaced by unwavering loyalty, joyful obedience, and the simple, unconditional happiness of a playful pup.

Pup Ross knelt obediently in the sand, his rubber-coated body completely still except for the eager wagging of his tail, patiently awaiting Daniel's approval. Daniel smiled gently, kneeling beside him and reaching out to softly stroke the side of the smooth rubber hood, feeling the warmth radiating beneath his touch.

“Good boy,” he whispered warmly.

Pup Ross leaned blissfully into Daniel’s hand, his sleek rubber body perfectly obedient beneath the fading golden sunlight, the gentle sound of waves continuing to lap softly at the peaceful shore.

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Text by @ross-gold-79

Part 4 - Mirror Mirror

Coach tightened the strap on his gear, rolling his shoulders like a boxer stepping into the ring. “We’re going back in.”

Ross hesitated, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Already?” His voice carried the distinct tone of someone hoping for at least five more minutes of not dealing with a haunted death trap.

“We don’t have time to waste,” Coach said, double-checking his supplies. “If we’re getting Trevor and Chevy back, we need to find whatever’s keeping the ghost here. Spirits don’t just float around aimlessly—they latch onto something. The room with the highest activity will tell us where.”

Before Ross could respond, Coach snatched the EMF reader from his hands, gave it a quick wave through the air, then shoved it right back at him. “So start looking.”

Ross gripped the device like it was the last thing tethering him to sanity. “And if we see anything weird, we run, right?”

Coach was already walking toward the house. “We’ll see.”

Ross groaned under his breath, dragging his feet as he followed. He cast a quick glance back at the van, where Brody sat comfortably in the glow of multiple monitors, looking far too at ease. Brody met his eyes and gave the smallest nod, the universal gesture of Better you than me, before taking a sip of his coffee. Ross muttered a curse and hurried after Coach.

Inside, the house felt even heavier than before, like stepping into a thick fog made of pure dread. The silence pressed in on them, each floorboard creak sounding like a gunshot in the stillness. The air was stale, and the deeper they moved, the more Ross felt like something was waiting.

“Keep that reader up,” Coach said, voice lower now, like even he didn’t want to disturb the quiet. “Let’s find this thing.”

They worked their way through the hall and back into the bedroom, where the EMF reader immediately went berserk, beeping erratically in Ross’s hands. He nearly dropped it, cursing as he struggled to adjust his grip. “Oh yeah, real subtle haunting. Totally not obvious at all,” he muttered.

Coach’s flashlight swept across the room, but Ross’s beam found something first—an ornate mirror hanging on the far wall, its gilded frame dulled by dust and age. The glass, however, was pristine. Too pristine. It shimmered unnaturally, the surface rippling like disturbed water.

“There,” Ross said, taking an instinctive step forward. “That’s gotta be it.”

Before he could get any closer, Coach’s hand clamped down on his shoulder, yanking him back with enough force to make him stumble. “Don’t look into it.”

Ross blinked at him. “What? Why not?”

Before Coach could answer, Brody’s voice crackled through the radio. “Uh, guys? That mirror just lit up on the cams. And I don’t mean, like, caught a glare. I mean it glowed. That’s—yeah, that’s not normal.”

Coach gave a firm nod, his grip still locked on Ross. “Because it’s a trap, that’s why. You stare too long, and you’re next.”

A shiver ran down Ross’s spine as he forced himself to look away. “Okay, great. Fantastic. So how do we not end up like Trevor and Chevy?”

Coach exhaled through his nose, fingers tightening ever so slightly. “That’s the part I haven’t figured out yet.”

As if in response, the mirror pulsed, the light within shifting like something beneath the surface was pressing against it. Watching. Waiting. The temperature in the room dropped, and Ross instinctively stepped closer to Coach.

Brody’s voice came through again, quieter this time. “I don’t think it wants you to figure it out.”

Coach’s eyes never left the mirror, his expression set like stone. “Brody, grab the salt and the extra incense from the van. We’ll need them to deal with this.”

The radio crackled with Brody’s immediate response, his voice utterly devoid of hesitation. “Yeah, that’s gonna be a no from me dog. Not stepping one foot out of this van.”

Coach sighed and rubbed his fingers along the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Ross, go get it.”

Ross’s head snapped up. “Wait, why me?”

Coach didn’t even look at him. “Because I’m not leaving this thing alone, and Brody’s apparently cemented to his seat.” He gestured toward the door. “Now move.”

Ross groaned, already backing toward the hallway. “If I get grabbed on the way, I’m haunting both of you.”

Brody’s voice crackled through just as Ross disappeared from sight. “Just don’t screw it up like the incense.”

All Coach heard was Ross scoff as he disappeared down the hall. Without warning the air in the bedroom grew heavier…colder. The dim overhead light flickered softly, casting shadows that seemed to move with a will of their own. He exhaled slowly, gripping the EMF reader tighter, steeling his nerves. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. The silence stretched, heavy and unnatural.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he inadvertently found himself gazing directly into the mirror. Before his own warning was able to ring through his head, he found himself staring at his reflection, unable to place something about it being just slightly…off. It stood rigid, just as he was—but then something shifted, his boots started to darken. The worn leather rippled, smoothing over into something sleek, something glossy. He could only stare as the change spread upward, the fabric of his pants melding into the boots seamlessly, molding around his to his legs tightly.

He closed his eyes and shook his head, it was clear the mirror was playing tricks on him but a warm, almost pleasantly tight feeling spread through his feet and legs. His eyes shot open and he looked down to see his familiar pants and leather boots. A brief, uneasy sigh escaped him at the realization that it really was just a trick, but that as cut short when he felt the tight embrace of ghostly rubber advancing higher still.

His gaze snapped back to the mirror. Wide-eyed, he saw that transformation was progressing with or without him looking into the mirror. The rubber had flowed over his thighs, his waist. Even worse was the sensation was starting in his fingers and hands now too. The skin on his hands darkened next, wrinkles and blemishes smoothing out into a perfect, seamless black rubber.

The tightness continued its spread, pleasure creeping over his skin. He took a deep breath. It was all a trick. If he could get away from the mirror he would be ok. Despite the rubber being confined to the reflection, his body resisted him moving towards the door, almost like it was trying to keep him from fleeing.

The rubbery feeling advanced further and further up his arms and around his waist as he struggled towards the doorway. The creak of rubber filled the room right as he was within reach of the door as it forcibly swung closed, sealing him inside the room. "Because of course that would have been too easy." he whispered to himself.

The pleasant tightness crept over his chest and back now and he couldn't help but feel his steel resolve waver slightly as a moan slipped from him. It felt good…too good. He ran a hand over his chest, feeling his rubber covered hand gliding over his now tight, rubber chest. Another moan slipped free as it slid down his slick abdomen, lower and lower until….

The sound of screaking latex pulled him from his daze, and his attention back to the mirror. The mirror that now reflected his now almost entirely rubber covered body, now just his head uncovered standing near the supernaturally locked door to the bedroom staring back at him. He could feel the tight rubber around him and couldn't deny how good he looked with it reflecting in the dim lighting.

A shimmer in the reflection drew his attention and in an instant he saw that there was dark black rubber gasmask gripped tightly in his hands. Coach's breath quickened as he stared at the gas mask in his hands. He didn't remember picking it up, yet there it was—its glossy black surface gleaming under the dim light. His fingers gripped the material tightly. A cold dread settled in his stomach as he looked down at himself, and the air in his lungs escaped in a sharp gasp. The transformation wasn’t just in the mirror anymore. The snug embrace of rubber was real, sealing him in from the neck down, hugging every muscle in a perfectly sculpted sheen. His boots, his pants, his jacket—gone. All replaced by the seamless, inescapable rubber.

He staggered back, hands trembling, but the suit held firm. It felt right, perfect, but his mind rebelled against the unnatural sensation. His fingers twitched against the mask, a thought creeping into his mind…to put it on. The thought sent a jolt of panic through him, and he clenched his jaw, willing himself to drop the mask. But his body refused.

The warmth pulsed again, curling up his arms, across his chest. His reflection had changed even more now, fully coated in gleaming rubber from the neck down. He could only stare at it—at himself. His stance had shifted, straighter, more rigid. His body looked powerful, sculpted beneath the smooth surface.

The mirror pulsed again, the reflection tilting its head—not in mimicry, but in observation, as if watching him struggle. Coach’s fingers twitched, still wrapped around the gas mask, and his breath quickened as he tried—tried—to let go. But his body refused. The smooth rubber encasing him hummed, the tightness sinking deeper into his muscles, his bones. His reflection lifted the mask to its face, and his own arms obeyed, bringing it closer, the scent of rubber filling his senses. He clenched his jaw, resisting, but the moment the edges of the mask touched his skin, a warm, tingling pressure surged through his head. A sharp gasp escaped his lips as the material moved, creeping over his head and sealing itself around him entirely.

It was like a second skin sliding into place, fusing with the rest of the suit, cutting off any trace of his bare flesh. The rubber tightened around him, molding to him, smoothing away any last sign of individuality. His breath came hot and heavy through the built-in filters, the soft hiss of air cycling in and out setting a steady, controlled rhythm. His thoughts swam, his resistance fading beneath the suffocating pleasure of the suit’s embrace. The pleasant tightness wasn’t just external anymore—it was in his mind, sinking deeper, soothing, silencing. His name, his purpose, his will—distant echoes swallowed by the rubber. He belonged this way. He had always belonged this way.

Part 3 - Lavender and Sandalwood

Ross’s heart raced as he cowered in the darkness of the closet, listening to the rubbery transformation happening outside. He didn’t dare move. The darkness seemed be enclose around him entirely. His breathing was shallow, his eyes wide in the pitch-blackness. The faint sounds of the house creaking and groaning made him jump with every noise.

Then came the footsteps—slow, deliberate, and drawing closer.

Ross pressed himself against the back of the closet, his hands trembling as he clutched his flashlight like it might somehow protect him. The footsteps grew louder, heavier, until they stopped right outside the closet door.

A shadow passed under the crack of the door, and Ross held his breath, praying whoever—or whatever—was on the other side wouldn’t open it. For a moment, there was nothing but silence, and Ross dared to hope that he was safe.

The door creaked open.

Ross flinched, throwing his hands up defensively. “Please, no—”

“Relax, kid,” Coach’s gruff voice cut through the tension, and Ross blinked up at the familiar figure standing there, flashlight in hand. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

“C-Coach?” Ross stammered, his voice shaking. “It’s—it’s Trevor! The ghost got him! He’s…he’s gone, turned into some kind of—”

“Drone,” Coach finished, his expression grim. He pulled Ross out of the closet, giving him a firm shake. “Get it together. Where’d you last see him?”

Ross pointed weakly down the wardrobe, only the faint glow of his dropped flashlight remained.

Coach’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t good. We’ve got to regroup and figure out a plan. Stick close to me, and no more hiding in closets, got it?”

Ross nodded, clutching the back of Coach’s jersey like a lifeline as they moved cautiously down the hallway, towards the front door. The faint echo of squeaking rubber drifted through the air, almost mocking them in their retreat.

The pair stumbled out of the house into the cold night air, their breaths visible in the frigid air. The van sat a few yards away, its interior glowing softly from the monitors inside. As they approached, the door slid open, and Brody leaned out, his expression already tense.

“What happened in there?” Brody asked, his usual calm demeanor tinged with worry. “I saw Trevor’s signal drop, and now I can’t find him on the cameras.”

Coach climbed into the van with a grim look. “The ghost got him. Took him just like that. And Chevy’s still missing.”

Brody paled slightly, glancing back at the monitors. “Took him?” He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze fixed on the flickering feeds. “I thought we were just dealing with activity, not—this.”

Ross slumped into a seat, his hands trembling as he held the EMF reader. “It’s real, Brody. This isn’t just flickering lights and spooky noises. That thing’s…it’s doing something to them. Trevor’s gone, and he’s…he’s not the same anymore.”

Brody swallowed hard but nodded. “Alright. What’s the plan?”

Coach yanked open a storage bin and pulled out a bundle of incense sticks. “This. Incense. It can stun the ghost. Won’t get rid of it, but it’ll buy us time to regroup and figure out how to deal with it—and maybe get the others back.”

Brody frowned, taking one of the sticks and turning it over in his hands. “Incense? You’re serious? What, is the ghost gonna just light it up and vibe out with some lavender and sandalwood?”

Coach shot him a glare. “Yes, I’m serious. It messes with their energy. Just be ready to use it when…”

The sudden click and flare of the lighter interrupted him. Coach and Brody turned to see Ross holding the incense stick, smoke already curling lazily into the air.

"…you really need it…", Coach finished softly, staring at the trail of smoke trailing from the incense.

Before he could say another word, the stick flared brightly, glowing red-hot for a moment before disintegrating into ash in Ross’s trembling hand, smoke filling the van in an instant.

The three of them stared at the smoldering remains.

Brody broke the silence, coughing through the smoke. “So…that’s one stick down.”

Ross looked at Coach, guilt written all over his face. “I—I didn’t mean to! I thought—”

“You thought wrong,” Coach growled, running a hand down his face. “Now we’re down to three sticks, and I swear if you waste another one—”

Before he could finish, the faint sound of the ghost’s laughter drifted out from the house, issuing another mocking taunt at the would-be ghost hunters.

Coach gritted his teeth, grabbing another stick and shoving it into Brody’s hand. “You’re in charge of these now. If he so much as looks at the lighter, smack it out of his hand.”

Brody nodded, his expression grim, but he set them back down next to Coach “Uhh yea. I'm not going in there. These are all yours.”

Coach looked at him for a second before sighing softly and handing one to Ross. "Only if you see the ghost. I mean you REALLY see it. Ok?"

Ross gulped as he took the incense, the pungent aroma of the previous one still hanging in the air, a constant reminder of his mistake.

Coach coughed slightly, clearing his throat and regaining his composure.

"I know how to fix this, we just need to find the thing that summoned this ghost and send them back. We've only got one shot at this so…"

Before he could finish a loud creaking sound could be heard and the trio turned toward the front door of the house, slowly opening with the loudest, most drawn out creaking that any of them had ever heard, almost like the ghost was welcoming them inside.

"So we better not screw it up," Coach finished, shooting a glare at the door, "And you better stop interrupting me."

Part 2- Woof

The team had just finished setting up their first round of equipment. Motion sensors blinked faintly in the doorways, cameras perched in shadowy corners, and a dusty K2 meter hummed weakly on the dining room table. The old house was silent, save for the occasional groan of warped floorboards and the faint creaks of the settling structure.

Coach clapped his hands, breaking the tension. “Alright, that’s round one done. I’m heading back to the van to grab the rest of the gear. Brody, keep an eye on the monitors, and shout if anything moves.”

“Got it,” Brody’s calm voice crackled through their headsets from the van.

Ross hesitated, clutching his EMF reader tightly. “Uh, Coach? What about Chevy? He hasn’t come back yet.”

Coach frowned, his eyes darting toward the hallway Chevy had wandered down earlier. “Probably got distracted sniffing out something ridiculous again. Don’t worry about him—Chevy’ll show up. Just keep your focus on the job.”

Ross’s grip on the reader tightened. “But—”

“Relax,” Coach cut him off. “Trevor’s here, and Brody’s got eyes on everything. You’re fine.” With that, he turned and headed out, the front door creaking shut behind him.

The house seemed to grow quieter, as if holding its breath. Ross’s flashlight beam wavered as he glanced toward Trevor, who was leaning casually against the bedroom wall.

“We should look for him,” Ross said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Trevor waved a dismissive hand. “Chevy’s fine. He’s probably crawling around somewhere, covered in cobwebs, living his best life. He always turns up when you least expect it.” His flashlight swept across the floor, catching something tucked under the bed. “Oh, what’s this?”

“What are you doing?” Ross asked nervously.

“Investigating,” Trevor replied, crouching down and tugging at the object. “You know, like a ghost hunter. That thing we’re here to do?” He dragged out a flat wooden board, brushing off a thick layer of dust to reveal faded letters and strange symbols. A crooked smile spread across his face. “Hah! Check it out—a Ouija board.”

Ross took a step back. “Nope. No way. Put it back. Didn’t Coach specifically say not to mess with anything weird?”

Trevor snorted. “Relax, dude. It’s not weird. It’s classic. This is ghost-hunting 101.” He set the board on the table, placing his fingers lightly on the planchette.

Brody’s voice crackled through their headsets. “Trevor, I’m watching your camera. Don’t mess with that thing. Seriously. Those boards are bad news.”

“Oh, come on, Brody. It’s a piece of wood. What’s the worst that could happen?” Trevor grinned, his tone light, though there was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes.

“Trevor, stop,” Ross insisted, his voice rising. “We should wait for Coach.”

Trevor ignored him, leaning closer to the board. “Alright, let’s see what it’s got. Spirit, are you here with us?”

At first, nothing happened. The planchette stayed still, and Trevor shot Ross a smug look. “See? Nothing to—”

The planchette jerked under his fingers. Y-E-S.

Ross froze. “Nope. Nope. Nope. Put it away!”

Trevor just grinned. “Okay, spirit. Have you seen our friend Chevy? Little guy, acts like a bloodhound?”

The planchette moved again, faster this time. W-O-O-F.

Trevor blinked. “Huh. That’s…oddly specific.”

Almost immediately Ross’ flashlight flickered and the air turned cold. The motion sensors in the hallway began to beep, one after another, as if something unseen was moving toward them.

“Trevor,” Ross whispered, backing away. “We need to go.”

Trevor’s cocky expression melted into unease. “Uh, Brody? You seeing this?”

Brody’s voice came through as static and garbled up words. “Yeah....Som....ings mov...g...at...you...  Get...of ...there.”

“Ross, run!” Trevor shouted, his voice shaking. But before the words fully left his mouth, there was the sound of a closet door creaking shut. Trevor turned his head sharply, only to see that Ross had already bolted, leaving the door swaying slightly on its hinges. He stared, mouth agape in disbelief for a moment before current events pulled his attention back.

The lights began to flicker violently, plunging the room into erratic flashes of light and shadow. A low, mechanical growl rumbled from the far corner. Both men turned as an old wardrobe creaked open, the hinges groaning under the strain.

From the shadows, a figure crawled out on all fours. It was sleek and black, its body glistening as if coated in liquid rubber. The creature’s head was featureless except for a pup-shaped gas mask with glowing eyes, and a rubber tail that seemed to wag as it moved.

Trevor’s voice cracked as he stumbled back. “Oh…nope. Nope. Nice doggy. Please be a nice doggy.”

The pup-drone crawled closer, its glowing eyes locked on him. Its growl deepened, and shiny, black tendrils began to slither out from its body, creeping across the floor toward Trevor.

Rubbery tendrils surged forward, wrapping around his legs and rooting him in place. Trevor yelped, struggling to pull free, but the glossy material clung stubbornly, crawling upward and sealing his legs into a smooth, seamless surface.

“Guys? Brody? Anyone?” Trevor shouted into his headset, but the static was deafening.

The pup-drone leapt at him, its movements unnervingly fluid as it crashed into him, knocking him onto the ground. The glossy material of its body seeped onto him and climbed higher, spreading over Trevor’s torso and arms. He gasped as the material tightened, compressing his form into a sleek, rubbery suit that gleamed under the flickering light.

"Bad...dog..." was all he could squeak out as the rubber continued its advance.

His movements slowed as the rubber encased him completely, forming a second skin. A smooth, featureless gas mask grew over his face, silencing his cries. Trevor’s body stiffened, his movements ceasing as he laid motionless, his transformation complete.

The pup-drone circled him, its glowing eyes flaring briefly. With a low, mechanical growl, it nudged the new drone with its muzzle before they both vanished into the darkness. Leaving only the dark room and silence.

Back in the van, Brody stared at his monitors, frowning. “Uh, guys? I just lost Trevor’s feed. What’s going on in there?”

Part 1 - Smell's Boney

The team stepped cautiously into the house, their flashlights casting eerie shadows on the walls. Dust hung in the air, and the faint creak of the old wooden floor echoed with each step. Chevy's nose wrinkled, and he sniffed theatrically. “You guys smell that? Smells…boney,” he said, grinning as he dropped to all fours.

“Really?” Ross asked, clutching his EMF reader nervously. “That’s not even a thing.”

Chevy crawled a few paces forward, his grin widening. “Oh, it’s a thing. And I’m on the trail. Just call me the bone detective!”

Back in the van, Brody’s voice crackled through their headsets. “Chevy, you sure about this? I’ve got no readings near you, man. Stick with the group.”

“I’ve got this!” Chevy shot back. “Trust me, Brody, this nose knows.”

“You don’t have any—” Brody started to say, but the radio cut out as Chevy turned the corner into the next room.

“Stay close,” Coach barked, but Chevy waved him off. “Five minutes, tops!” he called over his shoulder.

Chevy sniffed his way through the dining room and into the kitchen, flashlight beam skimming across the dirty countertops. His heart skipped when he spotted a faint glimmer beneath a cabinet.

“Hah! Gotcha!” he whispered, reaching beneath the dusty cabinet. His hand closed around something cool and smooth—a bone, polished and gleaming almost unnaturally in the dim light.

Almost as if in response, the room grew still. The air around him turned icy. Chevy shivered, clutching the bone tighter. “Uh, hello? Anyone here?” he called out, his bravado wavering.

From the corner of the room, the sound of labored breath began to grow. Chevy froze as his eyes landed on a figure in the corner. The figure stepped forward—sleek, shiny, and covered entirely in shiny black rubber. Its face was hidden beneath a gas mask-like apparatus, and its body gleamed in the flickering flashlight beam.

Chevy stumbled back, dropping the bone. “Uh…you can have this.” he offered weakly.

The drone tilted its head, a mechanical hiss escaping its mask. It reached out for him, tendrils of dark, glossy material extended from its outstretched hands, reaching for him. Chevy yelped and tried to run, but the tendrils were too fast. They coiled around his limbs, pulling him closer.

“N-no! Guys, help!” Chevy shouted into his radio, but all he heard was static. The drone’s grip tightened, and the glossy material began to spread over his skin, crawling up his arms and legs like living latex.

Chevy’s movements slowed as the material enveloped him, forming a tight, seamless suit over his body. His struggles ceased when a matching gas mask snapped into place over his face, his muffled voice fading into silence. The drone’s glowing eyes flared briefly before it stepped back, vanishing into the darkness with Chevy in tow.

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Back in the van, Brody stared at his monitors, frowning. “Uh, guys? Chevy’s mic just went dead. I’m not getting any movement on his tracker either.”

Coach’s voice crackled back. “He’s fine. Probably dropped it while playing fetch. Let’s keep moving.”

Brody tapped the screen, muttering to himself. “Yeah, fine. Except the cameras in his room just went black…”