File01

I wasn't exactly the star pupil during my school years. Graduating from high school felt like a distant achievement. Now, the task at hand was finding a job. I considered myself quite fortunate when my Uncle Smith offered me a position. You see, Uncle Smith had always worked for the government, but his line of work remained a mystery to everyone, including us. So, you can imagine my excitement when he extended this opportunity to me. That's how I ended up standing before a futuristic facility nestled in the midst of towering mountains.

As we approached the facility, my uncle handed me a card that read "Level One Security Clearance" in bold letters, accompanied by the title "JANITOR." Although it might sound mundane, the term "security clearance" added a certain weight to the role. Sure, all I really did was mop floors, switch generators on and off, and tend to the trash bins. Still, the pay was more than generous – a whopping 44 bucks an hour. I couldn't help but wonder if that was even legal. This place seemed to have a surplus of funds to afford such wages.

Every now and then, I'd be called into the site manager's office. Surprisingly, I'd find myself receiving raises. There were countless doors that remained off-limits to me. Those doors held mysteries, concealed secrets that I could only speculate about. Sometimes, I'd catch sight of my uncle, waving at him and inquiring about what lay beyond the doors I had access to. His response was always a cryptic "You just wait and see."

Then came the day when I was summoned to the site manager's office. I stood there, awaiting his instructions. He gazed at me and posed a question that caught me off guard, "Do you really know what's behind the doors you can't open?" I shrugged, my imagination running wild with thoughts of advanced weaponry or top-secret interrogations taking place.

"Well," he continued, "I can't wait to show you." With those words, I was led to a room by two guards. But before any revelations, there was paperwork. Stacks of it. Paper after paper, detailing conditions and restrictions. Among them, the one that stood out: Never disclose anything about our operations outside of this workplace. The rest, it seemed, was too sensitive to commit to paper.

Finally, we entered the room. A desk on one side and a transparent barrier on the other, preventing any physical interaction. And then, in came five innocent-looking ducklings. I blinked, a little perplexed. What was the big deal? The guards, however, had more in store. One of them proposed, "Could we hook you up to a heart monitor? Just to gauge your reactions." I agreed, my curiosity piqued, "Sure, but could you give me a little context first?" The guard's reply was straightforward, "You'll see."

As my attention returned to the ducklings, there was a sudden screeching noise. I looked up just in time to witness the unexpected. One of the ducklings' necks began to swell, and from it emerged a living organism. It grew before my eyes, reaching a height of about a meter. It was like an alien creature. The guards didn't need to consult the heart monitor; my shock was evident.

"The reason for our presence here," one of the guards explained, "is right before you. This is what we do. This is why you're here."

Part 2

My journey began as a junior researcher, a humble start but a start nonetheless. The future was an enigma, and I had never envisioned it unfolding quite like this. My second encounter with an anomaly was designated as VHC-007 - a collection of toy robots, but not your typical playthings. These were living beings in the form of toy robots. That's when I finally learned the name of the place I worked for - the VHC Foundation. The Foundation had always been mysterious about its exact nature, merely emphasizing its importance.

Days seemed to compress, growing shorter with each passing one. Apparently, I was doing something right because I found myself rising through the ranks. From researcher to head researcher, then researcher supervisor, and eventually, I became a Containment Engineer. We Containment Engineers played a crucial role in securing newly acquired anomalies or dealing with breaches. My tenure included managing various anomalies, like VHC-14, those giant man-eating worms, or VHC-29, the entity transporting people to a shadow realm where they dissolved. I even encountered VHC-36, the colossal rat. But among them all, VHC-21 held a special place in my thoughts.

VHC-21 was my favorite, or rather, I liked to think of it as my pet, though the reality was the opposite. It was a humanoid statue constructed from concrete and rebar. Devoid of facial features, its surface was coated in black spray paint. VHC-21's true peculiarity revealed itself when you looked away. It moved when unobserved, almost instantaneously. It was almost as if it teleported. And once VHC-21 reached you, well, let's just say it had a knack for snapping necks. A simple blink could be the end of your story.

Ensuring VHC-21's containment required three individuals to maintain constant observation. It used to be two, but, well, that had ended badly. The anomaly also excreted a peculiar liquid, necessitating weekly cleaning of its cell. The substance VHC-21 secreted was an unpleasant blend of brown stickiness with an unpleasant odor. On closer inspection, it seemed to be a mixture of blood, excrement, and nuts.

Typically, I found myself stationed in the viewing area of VHC-21's cell, ensuring its captivity. However, the Foundation apparently grew a bit restless with our routine, as they tasked me with training future test subjects. Test subjects were typically culled from death row or serving life sentences. The rationale was that if lives were already effectively over, why not employ them for experimental purposes? Or so the Foundation rationalized it to me.

At first, the new test subjects were skeptical of my words. It wasn't until I showed them the video of VHC-21's near decapitation of a man that their skepticism waned. The test subjects underwent rigorous training, and when the anticipated day arrived, we were ready. My team of test subjects and I entered VHC-21's containment chamber. Suddenly, the door shut behind us. I turned back, panic rising in my throat, and saw my fellow subjects sharing my disbelief. Only those assigned to watch duty were unperturbed, if not expectant. "Hey, guys, the doors are locked. Um, guys, open the doors?" I shouted, my voice tinged with a mixture of confusion and urgency. The test subjects looked at me, conveying a sense that this was all part of a protocol. This couldn't have been a simple mistake. A contingent of specialized guards sealed the door. It was deliberate. Those suited figures upstairs, making decisions from their lofty perches, had decided that our usefulness had run its course.

Still, hope stirred within our group. My team began crafting a plan, one that involved careful shifts and collaboration. Every move had to be calculated; the smallest misstep could seal our fate. And, as the tale often goes, not all good things culminate smoothly. It took a single, innocuous sneeze from a test subject to unravel our efforts. In an instant, VHC-21 responded, swift and lethal, severing the unfortunate subject's head. Slowly, it dispatched the rest of my team, leaving only me behind.

Desperation surged within me. I strained to resist blinking, knowing that my survival hinged on maintaining an unbroken gaze. But the inevitable could be forestalled no longer. My eyelids closed involuntarily, and the world went dark.

When my eyes fluttered open, I was still alive. VHC-21 stood before me, an enigmatic presence. It seemed to be attempting to communicate, though not with words. I sensed a sort of connection, a strange understanding that transcended language. A revelation hit me: I needed to close my eyes. I obliged, and a breathtaking vision unfolded. In the darkness, I saw VHC-21 standing sentinel next to sleeping children, its form melding with the shadows of a bustling city. Then it struck me - when no one was looking, VHC-21 was not bound by the rules that governed us. I opened my eyes just as five facility guards stormed the chamber, lifting me to safety.

Part 3

Incident Report:

Date and Time Redacted - [12/21/43 3:45]

The subject has descended into a state of profound madness, mimicking VHC-21's behavior. Strangely, VHC-21 itself has taken to gazing into the corner of its containment cell, moving only once an hour. This is a stark contrast to its usual pattern, wherein it moves whenever it remains unobserved. VHC-21's aggression towards humans remains unchanged, and its movement increases in frequency when it detects the presence of a human or animal observer. New test subjects are undergoing training, and we shall henceforth avoid repeating this type of experiment.

End of Report