Trapped within darkness, they uncovered a nightmare that refused to be contained.
Watch the original version of [REC]
**Prologue: The Calm Before**
The city was draped in a blanket of night, its streets quiet, save for the occasional whisper of tires against wet asphalt—a leftover from the evening’s rain. Somewhere in its vast expanse, a television hummed softly, casting flickering lights across the walls of a small newsroom where Angela Vidal, a television reporter known for her tenacity and unyielding courage, was preparing for what she believed to be another routine assignment. Beside her, Pablo, her trusted cameraman, checked his equipment one last time, ensuring every battery was charged, every lens clear. They were a team, bound not just by years of working together but by a shared drive to uncover truths hidden in the shadows.
Tonight’s assignment was to document a night in the life of the city’s firefighters, a feature piece for the local news channel’s late-night segment. It was the kind of story Angela had covered before—full of potential for human interest but unlikely to offer the adrenaline rush of breaking news. Yet, there was an undercurrent of excitement, a whisper in the back of her mind that tonight could be different. Little did she know, as she stepped into the cool night air, her camera-laden companion at her side, that this feeling was not just intuition but a premonition of horrors yet to unfold.
**Chapter 1: The Assignment**
The fire station was alive with activity, the air thick with the scent of coffee and the low murmur of voices. Angela and Pablo were greeted with cautious curiosity, the firefighters not used to the spotlight but welcoming nonetheless. Angela’s eyes sparkled with the opportunity before her, each person a story waiting to be told, each moment a chance to capture the essence of the night.
As they prepared for the night ahead, Angela interviewed several firefighters, her questions painting a picture of bravery in the face of danger, of lives saved and lost. Pablo’s camera moved smoothly, unobtrusively, capturing every nuanced expression, every flicker of emotion. They were a well-oiled machine, Angela’s words and Pablo’s visuals weaving together to tell stories that mattered.
The call came without warning, a sharp tone that cut through the camaraderie like a knife. An emergency, a situation unfolding in an apartment building not far from their location. Angela felt her pulse quicken, the thrill of the unknown propelling her forward. This was it, the moment when routine gave way to the unexpected. She glanced at Pablo, his nod an unspoken agreement. They were in this together, whatever lay ahead.
The ride to the apartment building was a blur, the city passing by in streaks of light and shadow. Angela reviewed her notes, her mind racing with possibilities, while Pablo checked his equipment, ensuring everything was ready for whatever they might encounter. The firefighters were tense, the usual banter replaced with focused silence. Something in the air had changed, a tension that was almost palpable.
As they arrived, the building loomed before them, its facade unremarkable, yet something about it sent a shiver down Angela’s spine. It was too quiet, the usual sounds of life absent. They were greeted by a police officer, his face drawn, eyes troubled. He explained the situation—a distress call from a resident, screaming, chaos in the background. Standard procedure had been followed, the building cordoned off until the situation could be assessed.
Angela and Pablo followed the emergency workers inside, the darkness of the building enveloping them like a shroud. The air was stale, heavy with a sense of foreboding. They made their way to the elevator, but at the last moment, decided to take the stairs, an instinctual choice that later would seem like fate.
The apartment door was ajar, the sounds of struggle spilling out into the hallway. Angela’s heart raced, her reporter’s instinct mingling with a growing sense of dread. As they entered, the scene that greeted them was one of chaos—a woman, her nightgown soaked in blood, her eyes wild with fear or madness, Angela couldn’t tell. Before they could react, the woman lunged, her movements too fast, too frenzied.
It was over in a moment, the firefighters restraining her, but the damage was done. The air was thick with tension, the initial shock giving way to a barrage of questions. What had happened here? Was this an isolated incident, or something more?
As they sought answers, the building seemed to close in around them, each creak and whisper amplifying their fears. Then, without warning, the doors were sealed, a quarantine enacted. They were trapped, cut off from the outside world, a voice on the radio their only link to the reality they had left behind.
Angela and Pablo found themselves at the heart of an unfolding nightmare, the boundaries between observer and participant blurring. The darkness of the building hid secrets, secrets that whispered of terror and madness. As they ventured deeper, each floor revealing more of the building’s grim history, they realized the truth was more horrifying than they could have imagined.
The assignment had become their reality, the camera their lifeline, documenting a descent into darkness from which there was no escape. The night had only just begun, and the horrors that awaited them were beyond their wildest fears. In the shadows of the apartment building, Angela and Pablo would find themselves facing not just the story of their careers, but a fight for survival against an unseen enemy that lurked in the darkness, waiting.
Chapter 2: The Lockdown
The night air was thick with anticipation as Angela and Pablo, accompanied by the rhythmic thumping of their own hearts, followed the firefighters into the shadowed maw of the old apartment building. Its facade, marred by time and neglect, seemed to leer at them with a foreboding promise. Inside, the air was stale, heavy with the scent of decay and the whispered secrets of its inhabitants.
Initially, the atmosphere was electric, charged with the adrenaline of the emergency unfolding. Angela, ever the consummate professional, kept her focus on the camera’s viewfinder, Pablo’s steady hand guiding the lens as they captured every moment. The firefighters moved with practiced urgency, their equipment clanging in a cacophony of metallic echoes against the building’s tiled floors.
But the routine assignment veered into the realm of the surreal when, mere minutes after their entry, the building’s heavy main door slammed shut with a resounding thud. Confusion rippled through the group as they turned to find their exit barred, not by fire or debris, but by authorities in hazmat suits, their faces obscured and voices muffled, declaring a quarantine.
The initial shock gave way to a cacophony of protests and demands for explanation from the trapped residents and the emergency team alike. Angela, sensing the gravity of the situation, urged Pablo to keep filming, her reporter’s instinct knowing that they were now part of a story far bigger and darker than they had anticipated.
Pablo’s camera captured the growing tension, the fear etched into the faces of the building’s inhabitants as they congregated in the dimly lit lobby. Elderly couples clutched each other with trembling hands, children’s cries echoed off the walls, and the firefighters conferred in hushed, urgent tones. The officials outside remained unmoved, their stance firm, their explanations vague. A threat of contagion, they said, a situation under control, but no one inside felt reassured.
As minutes stretched into hours, the reality of their confinement began to settle in like a dense fog. Angela interviewed the residents, her voice steady despite the unease that gripped her. Pablo’s lens captured it all: the despair, the confusion, and the burgeoning sense of camaraderie among the trapped souls. They were all in this together, a makeshift community forged in the crucible of shared adversity.
But the fragile peace was shattered by a bloodcurdling scream from the upper floors, a harbinger of the horror yet to come. The group’s collective gaze snapped upward, towards the unseen terror that awaited them. The firefighters, trained for flames but not for the shadows that move within them, hesitated only for a moment before rallying and heading towards the source of the disturbance.
Angela and Pablo, driven by a blend of fear and determination, followed. The camera, an unblinking eye in the darkness, captured their ascent. The stairwell was narrow, the air cooler but no less oppressive, the only light provided by the firefighters’ torches and the occasional flicker of failing bulbs overhead.
Whispers of something unnatural, something wrong, filled the air, weaving through the group like a malevolent specter. The building seemed to breathe around them, each step upward drawing them deeper into its dark heart.
Then, suddenly, the chaos erupted into violence. A figure, shrouded in shadow, lunged from the darkness with a feral snarl. The attack was swift, brutal, and over in moments, leaving the group reeling and one of their own grievously wounded. The realization dawned on them all: the threat was not just the disease outside, but something far more immediate and deadly within.
Angela’s voice, once steady, trembled as she narrated the scene for her unseen audience, her words a lifeline in the growing darkness. Pablo’s camera did not waver, capturing every moment of terror and bravery, every glimpse of the nightmare that had ensnared them.
The chapter closed with the group, battered but resolute, banding together to face the horrors ahead. Angela and Pablo, their roles as observers blurred by the unfolding tragedy, found themselves at the heart of a story of survival, of humanity pushed to its limits. The building, with its labyrinthine corridors and shadowed secrets, loomed over them, a silent witness to the unfolding drama.
The lockdown had begun, but the true test of their endurance was yet to come.
**Chapter 3: The Infection**
The air was heavy with tension, the kind that wraps around your throat and tightens with every shallow breath. Angela and Pablo, alongside a ragtag group of firefighters and terrified residents, stood in the dimly lit lobby of the old apartment building. The emergency lights flickered, casting long shadows that danced on the walls like specters mocking their plight.
The sudden lockdown had thrown everyone into a state of confusion and fear. Angela, always the professional, tried to maintain her composure, her mind racing to piece together a story from the chaos. Pablo, camera perpetually at the ready, captured every moment, his lens unflinchingly focused on the unfolding drama. They were journalists, after all. Trained to chase the story, no matter how perilous it might turn.
It was then, amid the murmurs of frightened residents and the crackling of the firefighters’ radios, that a new, more unsettling sound pierced the uneasy silence. A series of thumps, followed by a dragging noise, descending the staircase from the upper floors. The group instinctively drew together, eyes fixed on the stairwell entrance.
The figure that emerged was almost pitiable, if not for the sheer terror it invoked. A woman, her nightgown stained and torn, hair matted to her face. But it was her eyes that held them captive—a wild, unrecognizable frenzy that seemed not to see but to stare through them. She stumbled forward, a guttural sound emanating from deep within her throat.
Before anyone could react, she lunged at the nearest firefighter, her movements unnervingly quick. The man barely had time to shout a warning before her teeth sank into his neck, ripping through flesh and sinew with a sickening ease. Blood sprayed, painting the walls and floor in a macabre tableau.
Panic ensued. Screams echoed through the lobby as the residents and emergency personnel scrambled to put distance between themselves and the woman. Angela and Pablo, driven by a mixture of fear and determination, pushed forward, the camera capturing every horrific detail.
The firefighters, trained for danger but not this kind, reacted swiftly. Two of them managed to subdue the woman, restraining her thrashing limbs with practiced efficiency. The bitten firefighter lay on the ground, his wounds grievous, his breathing ragged and shallow.
Angela, seizing the moment, approached the restrained woman, microphone extended like a shield. “Can you tell us what happened to you?” she asked, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart.
The woman’s response was a series of incoherent shrieks and growls, her eyes rolling back in a display of utter madness. It was clear there would be no answers from her.
The group was forced to make a decision. With the building sealed and the outside world oblivious to their plight, they had to move. The decision was made to ascend the building, to seek an escape and perhaps understand the nature of the horror that had befallen them.
As they climbed the stairs, leaving the lobby and the now silent woman behind, the building seemed to close in around them. The air grew thicker, the darkness more oppressive. Each floor presented a new tableau of domestic life abruptly abandoned, doors ajar, meals uneaten. And always, the underlying stench of decay, hinting at unseen horrors lurking in the shadows.
It wasn’t long before they encountered others like the woman. Some were aggressive, launching themselves with a feral hunger at the group. Others were passive, wandering aimlessly, lost to whatever madness had claimed them. Each encounter left the group more depleted, both in numbers and in spirit.
Angela and Pablo documented it all, their journalistic instincts keeping them moving forward even when every instinct screamed to turn back. They interviewed the survivors, capturing tales of terror and confusion, of lost loved ones and shattered lives. Each story added a piece to the puzzle, but the image it formed was one of utter despair.
The infection, as they came to call it, was unlike anything they had encountered. It spread through bites, its symptoms manifesting with alarming speed. Those infected were consumed by a rabid hunger, their humanity stripped away, leaving only violence.
As the group ascended, the reality of their situation became clear. This was no ordinary infection. It was something far more sinister, an experiment perhaps, or a bioweapon gone awry. The building, with its locked doors and sealed windows, was not just their prison but their tomb.
Angela, her resolve hardening with each step, knew that the story they were capturing was more than just a report. It was a testament, a warning to the outside world of the horrors that lurked in the shadows of human ambition and folly.
And as they reached the upper floors, the source of the infection tantalizingly close, Angela and Pablo prepared themselves for the final chapter of their story, unaware of the true horror that awaited them.
Chapter 4: The Ascent
The dim glow of Pablo’s camera light served as their only guide through the oppressive darkness of the stairwell. Angela’s breath was shallow, her voice barely a whisper as she narrated their harrowing journey upwards. The building seemed to groan in protest with every step they took, a symphony of creaks and sighs echoing off the crumbling plaster. The air was thick, charged with an unspeakable dread that clung to their skin like the stifling humidity.
Pablo, ever the stoic, kept his focus on the viewfinder, though his hands betrayed a slight tremor. Each landing they reached offered no reprieve, only doors to apartments filled with unknown horrors. Angela insisted on pressing forward, driven by a reporter’s instinct that the truth lay closer to the heart of this nightmare, somewhere above them.
Their ascent was punctuated by the sounds of their own ragged breathing and the distant, unidentifiable noises that seemed to be both chasing and evading them. At times, Angela thought she could hear whispering, a cacophony of voices begging for release, or perhaps warning them back. Pablo suggested it might be the wind, but in this tomb-like place, Angela doubted the wind could find a home.
On the fourth floor, they encountered Mrs. Ramirez, an elderly resident they had briefly spoken to upon entering the building. She was now slumped against her door, her eyes wide with an unspeakable terror. The encounter with her was a turning point; her once coherent pleas had dissolved into frantic, disjointed ramblings about “the darkness that watches.” Angela, despite her fear, knelt beside the woman, trying to offer comfort, but Mrs. Ramirez only gripped her arm with surprising strength and whispered a warning of something unnatural dwelling within the building before her eyes rolled back, leaving her in a state of shock.
The duo pressed on, their resolve hardened by the encounter. Each floor unveiled more of the building’s sinister tapestry. The fifth floor held the apartment of a man who claimed to have never seen the daylight, his windows perpetually covered in thick, black drapes. He spoke in riddles, his words a maze that hinted at a history of unspoken rituals and a reverence for something that dwelled in the building’s shadowed corners. His apartment was a shrine to this unseen entity, the walls adorned with cryptic symbols that seemed to pulse with a life of their own under Pablo’s light. Angela felt a chill that had little to do with the air temperature; it was as if the very building was revealing its true nature through these twisted testimonials.
The sixth floor was eerily silent, the doors uniformly shut, the residents either gone or too afraid to make their presence known. But it was here, in this void of human noise, that they found the diary of a young girl, no older than twelve. The pages were filled with drawings and writings that spoke of a “friend” who lived in the walls, a friend who promised to protect her from the unseen dangers of the night. As Angela flipped through the pages, a story unfolded—not just of a lonely child’s imagination, but of a building steeped in tragedy and a presence that had woven itself into the very fabric of its existence.
It was on the seventh floor that their journey took a harrowing turn. The narrow corridor was littered with debris, the aftermath of a struggle or an attempt to barricade against something. The air here was different; it was colder, denser, as if breathing had become an act of will. The door to the attic was ajar, an inky blackness seeping out from the gap like a physical entity. Angela and Pablo exchanged a look; words were unnecessary. Whatever secrets the building held, whatever source to this nightmare, lay beyond that door.
With a courage born of desperation, they pushed the door open. The attic was vast, much larger than the building’s dimensions should allow. The beam from Pablo’s camera pierced the darkness, revealing glimpses of a space that defied logic. Shapes moved in the periphery, skittering away from the light, retreating into the shadows. And there, in the center of the room, was the heart of the darkness: a makeshift laboratory, its existence an anomaly.
The equipment was archaic, festooned with tubes and wires that hummed with a sinister energy. Jars filled with unidentifiable substances lined the shelves, and in the center, a large, metal table stained with the echoes of unspeakable acts. It was a scene ripped from the darkest of nightmares, a tableau of madness and despair.
Angela’s voice trembled as she described the scene for the unseen audience beyond the lens. Pablo’s camera swept the room, capturing every detail, every shadow that seemed to writhe in anticipation. It was here, in this room of horrors, that they found the documents, the mad scribblings of a mind obsessed with the barrier between life and death, between sanity and madness.
The realization of what they had uncovered hit them like a physical blow. This was no simple infection; it was something far more ancient, far more malevolent. The building, this cursed edifice, was not just a container for the horrors within; it was a participant, an active entity in a macabre experiment that had spiraled out of control.
Angela and Pablo knew they could not leave this story untold. With a newfound determination, they prepared to make their descent, to bring the truth to light. But the building, and the darkness it harbored, was not yet finished with them. As they turned to leave, the shadows seemed to coalesce, forming a barrier between them and the door. The whispers grew louder, a chorus of voices that promised despair and suffering.
The chapter closes with them standing on the threshold of a revelation so terrifying, it threatened to shatter their sanity. Ahead of them lay the path back into the suffocating embrace of the building, each step a descent into a nightmare from which there might be no awakening. Behind them, the attic and its secrets, a Pandora’s box that, once opened, could never be closed again. The choice was theirs, but in this moment, the distinction between escape and damnation seemed perilously thin.
**Chapter 5: The Residents’ Secrets**
The dimly lit hallway seemed to stretch endlessly, its wallpaper peeling like aged skin, revealing the building’s decrepit bones beneath. Angela, with Pablo’s camera light piercing the darkness, moved cautiously, the air thick with the scent of fear and decay. Each door they passed harbored secrets, the stories of those who called this cursed place home.
In a desperate bid for answers, Angela decided to interview the remaining residents, their faces etched with terror and confusion. The first was an elderly woman, Mrs. Rosario, her hands trembling as she clutched a rosary. Her voice, a fragile whisper, spoke of strange noises in the night, and of neighbors who vanished, only to reappear with eyes hollow, consumed by an insatiable hunger. She spoke of the building as a living thing, its heart beating within the walls, a sinister pulse that drove some to madness.
Next, they encountered a young man, Alex, his apartment a fortress of monitors and scribbled notes. He spun tales of government conspiracies, of experiments designed to control the mind and body. His ramblings painted a picture of paranoia, but amid the chaos of his thoughts, a thread of truth shimmered. He showed them footage, taken from his peephole camera, of men in hazmat suits entering the building weeks before the outbreak, their purpose shrouded in secrecy.
On the third floor, they met Guillermo, a doctor who had turned his apartment into a makeshift clinic. His calm demeanor belied the horror he had witnessed. He recounted the first case, a fever that spiraled into madness, the patient’s flesh decaying as if consumed from within. He had reached out to authorities, only to be met with silence. His theory was of a virus, one that preyed not only on the body but on the soul, leaving its victims a shell of their former selves.
The deeper Angela delved, the more the building seemed to whisper its dark history. In the basement, they found Maria, the custodian, surrounded by old blueprints and city archives. She told them of the building’s origin, a project born of ambition and greed, its foundation laid upon the ruins of an ancient sanatorium. The land, she said, was cursed, its soil soaked in the suffering of those who perished there, their spirits restless and vengeful.
As they ascended to the upper floors, the pieces began to fall into place. Each story, each frightened whisper, wove a tapestry of tragedy and horror. The infection, the lockdown, it was all connected, a sinister puzzle whose pieces were the residents themselves, their lives intertwined with the building’s malevolent legacy.
In the dim light of Pablo’s camera, Angela reflected on the stories they had heard. The building was more than a prison; it was a living testament to human folly, a monument to the unseen forces that dwell in the shadows of our world. The residents, each bearing their own scars, were bound together not by choice, but by fate, their secrets the key to unraveling the nightmare.
As they prepared to confront the source of the infection, Angela realized that the truth was more terrifying than any virus. The real horror lay in the hearts of those who sought to harness the darkness, to play god with forces beyond their control. The building, with its labyrinthine corridors and hidden rooms, was a mirror to the human soul, reflecting the depths of our fears, our desires, and our capacity for evil.
The secrets of the residents, once hidden behind closed doors, now lay bare, a mosaic of human frailty and courage. Angela knew that their only hope of escape lay in exposing the truth, in shining a light into the darkest corners of the building, and of themselves. With each step, they moved closer to the heart of the darkness, to the final confrontation that awaited them in the shadows.
Pablo’s camera, a silent witness to the unfolding horror, captured every moment, every revelation. This was no longer just a story; it was a testament to the resilience of the human spirit, a record of the battle between light and darkness. As they climbed the final staircase, Angela and Pablo understood that they were part of the building’s story, their fate entwined with the secrets that pulsed within its walls.
The chapter closes as Angela and Pablo, armed with the knowledge of the residents’ secrets and the building’s cursed history, steel themselves for the horrors that lie ahead. Their journey into the heart of darkness was far from over, but they were determined to uncover the truth, no matter the cost. The building, with its anguished whispers and shadowed corridors, awaited them, its secrets ready to be revealed in the final, terrifying chapters of their ordeal.
Chapter 6: The Source
The dim light from Pablo’s camera barely penetrated the thick darkness of the attic. Dust motes danced in the beam like malevolent spirits, disturbed after years of solitude. Angela’s voice, a steady beacon amidst the chaos, narrated their grim ascent. “We’ve reached what seems to be the source of this nightmare,” she whispered, a tremor of fear betraying her composed exterior.
The attic was a sprawling, chaotic space, filled with the detritus of forgotten lives and scientific ambition gone awry. In the center, a makeshift laboratory stood, an eerie tableau of scientific hubris. Glass vials, some shattered, others ominously sealed, littered the tables. Papers, scribbled with frantic notes, fluttered in the breeze from a broken window. And in the corner, a cage—ominous and empty, its door ajar.
Angela approached the table, her hand trembling as she picked up a sheet of paper. The writing, a mix of technical jargon and desperate pleas, spoke of a groundbreaking experiment designed to conquer death itself. “They were playing God here,” she muttered, the realization dawning with chilling clarity.
Pablo, his camera never wavering, captured every grim detail. The lens zoomed in on a series of photos pinned to a corkboard: images of subjects in various stages of infection, their humanity slipping away as the virus took hold. And then, a photo that made Angela’s blood run cold—a picture of the building’s residents, smiling and unsuspecting, dated just weeks before the outbreak.
A noise from the shadows snapped their attention away from the haunting images. A figure emerged, its movements jerky and unnatural. It was one of the scientists, his lab coat stained with blood, his eyes hollow pits of madness. He spoke in a raspy whisper, a litany of apologies and warnings, telling of the virus’s origin—an attempt to create a superhuman immune system that had spiraled out of control.
As he spoke, the sounds of the infected grew louder, a cacophony of despair climbing the stairs to the attic. The scientist, in his final moments of lucidity, handed Angela a USB drive. “Evidence,” he gasped, before the infection overtook him, transforming him into a snarling beast. Pablo, quick to react, swung his camera, hitting the scientist with a force that sent him tumbling into the darkness.
With no time to mourn the loss of the man he once was, Angela and Pablo made a desperate decision. They would fight their way to the basement, where the building’s old plans hinted at a forgotten exit. The USB drive clenched in Angela’s hand was more than evidence; it was a beacon of hope—a chance to expose the truth and prevent further outbreaks.
The descent was a nightmare. Each floor presented new horrors, the building itself seeming to resist their escape. Infected residents, once neighbors and friends, now twisted into grotesque parodies of life, lurched from the shadows. Angela and Pablo, armed with only a camera and sheer will, dodged and fought their way through, their every move recorded in stark, unflinching detail.
In the midst of the chaos, Angela’s resolve never wavered. She narrated their harrowing journey, her voice a lifeline to the world outside, a testament to the human spirit’s indomitable will to survive. Pablo, too, showed a courage he never knew he had, his camera an extension of his determination to bear witness to the horror and hope entwined within the building’s walls.
As they reached the basement, the infected converged in a final, frenzied assault. Angela and Pablo, backs against the door to freedom, prepared for the end. But in that moment of despair, they found an unexpected ally. The building’s superintendent, thought lost to the infection, emerged from the shadows, wielding a makeshift weapon. With a fierce cry, he charged into the infected, buying Angela and Pablo the precious seconds they needed to break through the door and into the night beyond.
The cool air of freedom hit them like a wave, the silent streets a stark contrast to the nightmare they had escaped. As they collapsed on the pavement, gasping for breath, Angela turned the camera to herself. “This is Angela Vidal,” she said, her voice steady but filled with emotion. “What you have witnessed is the truth—a truth that must be exposed, no matter the cost.”
The screen went black, the silence a poignant end to their harrowing ordeal. But their story was far from over. The USB drive, clutched tightly in Angela’s hand, held the key to unraveling the darkness that had enveloped the building. And as dawn broke over the city, a new day began—a day of reckoning, fueled by the courage of two individuals who had stared into the abyss and emerged to tell the tale.
**Chapter 7: The Descent into Darkness**
The air was thick with despair as Angela and Pablo, their bodies weary and minds teetering on the brink of madness, stood before the decrepit staircase that spiraled into the building’s shadowy depths. The once mundane act of descending stairs had now become a harrowing plunge into the unknown, a testament to how their reality had irrevocably warped since stepping into this cursed edifice.
They had survived the unspeakable horrors that lurked in the gloom of the upper floors, each step forward a defiance of the malevolent force that sought to consume them. The attic, with its revelation of a clandestine laboratory and the grotesque experiment gone awry, had offered answers but at a grievous cost. The knowledge that humanity’s hubris had birthed this nightmare did little to quell the terror that gripped their hearts.
Now, armed with the faint hope that the building’s basement held the key to their escape, Angela and Pablo embarked on their final descent. The dim light from Pablo’s camera pierced the darkness, casting long shadows that danced along the walls, as if mocking their feeble attempt at salvation.
The staircase creaked ominously under their weight, a constant reminder of the building’s hunger for their souls. With each step, the air grew colder, the oppressive silence punctuated only by their labored breathing and the distant, yet ever-present, moans of the infected.
As they reached the basement, a vast, cavernous space unfolded before them. Rows of old filing cabinets and forgotten relics of the building’s past lay strewn across the floor, veiled in dust and darkness. The beam from Pablo’s camera swept across the room, revealing a heavy, metal door on the far side, its surface marred by time and neglect.
Angela felt a surge of hope. That door could be their deliverance, the end of this nightmare. Yet, as they approached, an unsettling realization dawned on them. The door was sealed from the outside, its bolts a grim testament to the building’s intent to never release its prey.
Panic set in as they searched desperately for another way out, their movements frantic, fueled by the primal urge to survive. It was then that Pablo’s light caught something in the corner, partially obscured by shadows—a narrow ventilation shaft, barely large enough for a person to crawl through.
The decision was made without words, their resolve hardened by the countless horrors they had already faced. Angela, with Pablo following, squeezed into the shaft, the metal cold and unyielding against their skin. They crawled forward, the sound of their movement a cacophony in the silence, each turn a leap of faith into the unknown.
Time lost all meaning in the claustrophobic darkness, their progress measured in inches and breaths. And then, suddenly, there was light—a faint glimmer at the end of their torturous path, promising freedom or perhaps a new form of damnation.
They emerged, battered and covered in filth, into the cold night. The quarantine zone lay before them, a silent witness to the chaos that had unfolded within the building’s walls. Angela and Pablo, their bodies pushed beyond exhaustion, stumbled forward, their eyes adjusting to the freedom they had thought impossible.
But their relief was short-lived. The sound of approaching sirens tore through the silence, a stark reminder that their ordeal was far from over. As they were surrounded by armed figures in hazmat suits, Angela realized the chilling truth—their escape was not an end, but a beginning.
The camera, still clutched in Pablo’s trembling hands, had captured it all. Every shadow, every scream, a testament to the horror they had endured. And as Angela looked into the lens, a final, defiant message to the world, she understood the true nature of their journey. It was not just a fight for survival, but a warning, a beacon for those who dared to uncover the darkness that lurks within the heart of man.
The screen fades to black, the silence a heavy cloak that wraps around the viewer, a chilling reminder of the fragility of our existence and the horrors that await in the depths of our own making.
Some scenes from the movie [REC] written by A.I.
Scene 1
**Title: The Sealed Darkness**
**Genre:** Horror/Mystery
—
**FADE IN:**
EXT. CITY STREET – NIGHT
The city is asleep under a blanket of darkness. The occasional flicker of a streetlamp casts long shadows. An old apartment building looms in the distance, foreboding.
CUT TO:
INT. NEWS VAN – NIGHT
ANGELA, 30s, an ambitious reporter with a keen eye, is reviewing her notes. She’s all business, determined. PABLO, late 20s, her cameraman, checks his equipment. He’s laid back but professional.
**ANGELA**
*(focused)*
Tonight’s the night, Pablo. This could be our big break.
**PABLO**
*(smirking)*
Chasing firefighters at 2 AM? You sure have a weird definition of a “big break.”
ANGELA gives him a stern look.
**ANGELA**
Every story matters, Pablo. Remember that.
The van pulls up near the apartment building. They grab their gear and exit the van.
CUT TO:
EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING – NIGHT
The building is older, with a history hidden behind its walls. ANGELA and PABLO approach a group of FIREFIGHTERS gearing up.
**ANGELA**
*(to Firefighter)*
Hi, Angela Vidal, Channel 6. Mind if we tag along?
FIRE CHIEF, 50s, rugged and authoritative, nods.
**FIRE CHIEF**
Stay out of the way, and you won’t even know you’re there.
ANGELA and PABLO exchange excited glances.
CUT TO:
INT. APARTMENT BUILDING LOBBY – NIGHT
The group enters the dimly lit lobby. The air is heavy, filled with an unspoken tension. Suddenly, the entrance slams shut. Startled, they turn to find HEALTH OFFICIALS sealing the door.
**HEALTH OFFICIAL**
*(firmly)*
No one in or out. This building is under quarantine.
Panic ensues among the residents gathered in the lobby. ANGELA’s eyes light up with a mix of fear and determination.
**ANGELA**
*(to Pablo, whispering)*
Keep rolling, no matter what.
PABLO nods, the gravity of the situation setting in. They exchange a look of silent agreement, ready to face whatever lies ahead.
CUT TO:
The lobby now a makeshift command center, ANGELA and PABLO stick close as the group is briefed. The atmosphere is charged with uncertainty.
**ANGELA**
*(to a Resident)*
What’s happening here?
**RESIDENT**
*(frightened)*
No one knows. They won’t tell us anything. Just that it’s dangerous.
ANGELA turns to PABLO, a mix of fear and resolve in her eyes.
**ANGELA**
*(determined)*
We need to find out what’s going on.
They prepare to venture deeper into the darkness of the building, unaware of the horrors that await.
**FADE OUT.**
—
This opening scene sets the stage for a gripping tale of survival, mystery, and horror, as Angela and Pablo navigate the ominous corridors of the quarantined building, uncovering its secrets and facing the terror within.
Scene 2
### Screenplay: “The Lockdown”
**INT. APARTMENT BUILDING LOBBY – NIGHT**
*Angela, a young and ambitious television reporter, and Pablo, a seasoned cameraman, follow a group of firefighters into a dimly lit, decrepit apartment building. Residents peer out from their doors, curiosity and fear mingling in their eyes.*
**ANGELA**
(to Pablo)
This is gold, Pablo. Real, raw emotion.
*Pablo nods, focusing his camera on Angela, then the surroundings.*
**FIREFIGHTER CAPTAIN**
(to Residents)
Please, stay inside your homes. It’s for your safety.
*Suddenly, several HEALTH OFFICIALS in protective suits burst through the front door, sealing it behind them. The residents and the TV crew react with surprise and alarm.*
**HEALTH OFFICIAL #1**
(urgently)
No one leaves. This building is under quarantine until further notice.
**ANGELA**
(confused, to Health Official #1)
Quarantine? Can you explain what’s going on?
*The Health Official ignores her, speaking into a walkie-talkie. Angela turns to a resident, an elderly woman clutching a robe around her.*
**ANGELA** (CONT’D)
(to Elderly Woman)
Ma’am, do you have any idea why they’re doing this?
**ELDERLY WOMAN**
(shaking her head)
No, dear. But it’s not the first time strange things have happened here.
*Angela’s curiosity piques. She looks at Pablo, who nods, understanding the unspoken command to keep rolling.*
**ANGELA**
(to Pablo)
We need to find out what’s happening. This is more than a routine call.
*They follow the firefighters, heading deeper into the building. The lights flicker, casting long shadows. Unsettling noises echo from above.*
**FIREFIGHTER**
(nervously)
Doesn’t feel right. Keep your eyes open, folks.
*Angela whispers to Pablo, keeping her voice steady for the camera.*
**ANGELA**
This isn’t just a story, Pablo. It’s something much bigger.
*Pablo nods, capturing every moment as they ascend the staircase, the darkness growing around them.*
**CUT TO BLACK.**
—
*This scene sets the stage for a claustrophobic nightmare, introducing the main characters and the mysterious setting. As Angela and Pablo delve deeper into the building, their investigation will unravel a horrifying mystery that will keep viewers on the edge of their seats.*
Scene 3
**Title: Locked Shadows**
**Genre: Horror/Mystery**
—
**FADE IN:**
INT. APARTMENT BUILDING – NIGHT
*The camera follows ANGELA and PABLO, tightly framed, as they ascend the staircase, the tension palpable. The dim emergency lights flicker, casting long shadows.*
ANGELA
(whispering)
This is Angela Vidal, reporting from inside what has become a prison of shadows and fear.
*They reach a landing. Sounds of distress emanate from an apartment. A WOMAN IN A NIGHTGOWN (40s, disheveled, eyes wild) emerges, staggering towards them.*
PABLO
(carefully)
Ma’am, are you okay? Do you need help?
*The Woman lunges at a FIREFIGHTER, her scream unholy. Chaos erupts.*
ANGELA
(screaming)
Get her off him!
*The group manages to subdue the Woman, but the damage is done. The firefighter is badly injured.*
FIREFIGHTER #2
(urgent, to radio)
We need immediate evac! We have a man down, and something’s not right here.
*Silence from the radio.*
ANGELA
(to Pablo)
Did you get that?
*Pablo nods, the camera still rolling, capturing every harrowing detail.*
INT. APARTMENT BUILDING – CONTINUOUS
*The group, now deeply shaken, retreats to a lower floor, seeking safety and answers. ANGELA interviews a RESIDENT, an elderly woman who speaks of unexplained illnesses and whispers of the attic.*
ANGELA
(to Resident)
You’re saying people knew something was wrong here?
RESIDENT
(terrified)
We all knew… but we never imagined…
*The sound of shuffling and moans interrupts them. Something is approaching.*
PABLO
(panicking)
We have to move. Now!
*They hurry away, the camera catching glimpses of shadowy figures moving in the darkness.*
—
**CUT TO:**
INT. APARTMENT BUILDING – SAFE ROOM – NIGHT
*The survivors barricade themselves in. ANGELA addresses the camera, her face a mask of fear and determination.*
ANGELA
This isn’t just an infection. It’s something far worse. We’re not just fighting to report the news… we’re fighting to stay alive.
*Outside, the sounds of the infected grow louder, more desperate.*
PABLO
(checking his camera)
We have to show the world what’s happening here. Whatever it takes.
*ANGELA nods, her resolve steeling.*
ANGELA
Then let’s make sure we survive to tell the tale.
**FADE OUT.**
—
*This screenplay fragment captures the essence of Chapter 3’s harrowing events, setting the stage for a story of survival, horror, and the desperate quest for truth within the confines of a nightmarish scenario.*
Scene 4
**Title: The Descent**
**Genre: Horror/Mystery**
—
**EXT. OMINOUS APARTMENT BUILDING – NIGHT**
*Angela and Pablo stand before the decrepit apartment building, its windows dark, the emergency lights flickering. Firefighters prepare their gear in the background.*
—
**INT. APARTMENT BUILDING – STAIRWELL – NIGHT**
*The group ascends the stairwell, their footsteps echoing. The flashlight from Pablo’s camera barely cuts through the darkness.*
—
**INT. APARTMENT BUILDING – FOURTH FLOOR – NIGHT**
*The group reaches the fourth floor. Doors line the dimly lit hallway, some ajar. Unearthly sounds emanate from within.*
**ANGELA**
(whispering to Pablo)
Keep rolling no matter what. We need to show what’s happening here.
*Pablo nods, his face tense.*
—
**INT. FOURTH FLOOR – HALLWAY – NIGHT**
*The group cautiously moves forward. A door creaks open. A shadowy figure of a MAN, mid-30s, appears, his eyes wide with fear.*
**MAN**
(terrified)
It’s spreading… they didn’t tell us… they didn’t know…
*Before he can finish, a guttural scream echoes from a nearby apartment. The man retreats, slamming his door.*
—
**INT. FOURTH FLOOR – HALLWAY – CONTINUOUS**
*Angela turns to the group, her voice steady yet filled with urgency.*
**ANGELA**
We need to find out what’s causing this. There’s a story here… and maybe a way out.
*The group nods, steeling themselves for what lies ahead.*
—
**INT. FOURTH FLOOR – END OF HALLWAY – NIGHT**
*They reach the end of the hallway. The door to the attic stairs stands ajar, an eerie glow emanating from within.*
**FIREMAN #1**
(eyeing the door)
That’s our way up. But be ready for anything.
*Angela and Pablo exchange a determined look.*
—
**INT. ATTIC STAIRWELL – NIGHT**
*The group ascends the narrow stairwell. The glow intensifies, the air grows colder.*
—
**INT. ATTIC – NIGHT**
*They emerge into the attic. The room is filled with old furniture, covered in dust sheets. In the center, a makeshift laboratory setup: strange equipment, vials of unknown substances, and piles of paperwork.*
**ANGELA**
(sifting through papers)
This… this is it. The source of the infection.
*Pablo films over her shoulder, capturing every detail.*
**PABLO**
(softly)
What have they been doing here?
*Suddenly, a noise from the shadows. They freeze.*
**ANGELA**
(whispering)
Pablo, film that.
*Pablo turns the camera towards the shadows. A FIGURE steps out, its movements erratic.*
**ANGELA**
(stepping back, to Pablo)
We need to leave. Now.
*The figure lunges towards them, its features grotesque and distorted.*
—
**INT. ATTIC STAIRWELL – CONTINUOUS**
*The group races down the stairwell, the sounds of their pursuer echoing behind them.*
**ANGELA**
(breathless)
We have to warn the others. We have to stop this.
*They burst into the hallway, the door slamming shut behind them. Pablo’s camera still rolling, capturing every harrowing moment.*
—
*Fade Out.*
Scene 5
**Title: “The Unseen”**
**Genre:** Horror/Mystery
**Format:** Feature-Length Film
—
**INT. DIMLY LIT APARTMENT CORRIDOR – NIGHT**
*Angela and Pablo, faces etched with fear and determination, navigate the cramped, eerie corridor. The flickering lights cast long shadows, making the atmosphere suffocating. They approach MR. GARCIA’s door, hesitating before knocking.*
**ANGELA**
*(whispering to Pablo)*
This could be our chance to understand more about what’s happening.
*Pablo nods, camera ready. Angela knocks. The door creaks open, revealing MR. GARCIA, mid-50s, rugged, with a cautious demeanor.*
**MR. GARCIA**
*(guarded)*
What do you want?
**ANGELA**
*(firmly)*
We’re trying to find out what’s causing this…situation. We were told you might know something.
*Mr. Garcia glances nervously behind him, then steps aside to let them in.*
**INT. MR. GARCIA’S APARTMENT – CONTINUOUS**
*The apartment is cluttered with papers, books, and a peculiar collection of religious icons. Mr. Garcia sits, gesturing for Angela and Pablo to do the same.*
**MR. GARCIA**
*(lowering his voice)*
This building…it’s cursed. The old tenant in 2B, Mrs. Alvarez, she dabbled in things she shouldn’t have.
**ANGELA**
*(leaning forward, intrigued)*
What kind of things?
**MR. GARCIA**
Dark arts, rituals…She believed she could talk to the dead. But she opened a door that can’t be closed.
*Angela and Pablo exchange a look. Pablo keeps the camera trained on Mr. Garcia.*
**PABLO**
*(curiously)*
Did she cause this infection?
**MR. GARCIA**
No, not directly. But she attracted something here, something evil. It’s been lurking, waiting for a chance to spread.
*Angela processes this, her mind racing.*
**ANGELA**
And the lab in the attic?
*Mr. Garcia stiffens, his eyes widening.*
**MR. GARCIA**
You’ve been there? That place…it’s where they tried to harness it, control it. But some things are beyond our control.
*Angela stands, a new resolve in her eyes.*
**ANGELA**
Then we need to find a way to stop it, once and for all.
*Mr. Garcia looks at Angela, a mixture of admiration and pity.*
**MR. GARCIA**
Be careful, young lady. Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
*Angela nods, thanking Mr. Garcia as she and Pablo exit the apartment, the weight of their mission heavier than ever.*
—
*The scene sets the tone for a deeper exploration into the horror that plagues the building, intertwining past sins with present terror, and propelling Angela and Pablo towards a confrontation with an unseen evil.*
