The recorder's speaker crackled with static, a harsh sound that made them all flinch in the oppressive silence of the chamber, like nails on a chalkboard amplified and distorted through damaged electronics. And then a voice emerged from the static—male, young, terrified beyond the capacity for hiding it, the voice of someone who knew with absolute certainty that death was coming and there was nothing they could do to stop it:
"—day six in the facility. We've lost seven already."The voice paused, and they could hear ragged breathing, the sound of someone trying to maintain composure while falling apart inside. "Something is hunting us. Systematically. Methodically. It's not—"
[HEAVY STATIC that made the speaker distort and pop, made them all lean closer despite not wanting to hear what came next]
