Thunder City

Two guards, Christopher Thomas and Derek Patrick, are walking down the empty hallways of the New Thunder Museum. The night shift. One lights a cigarette while the other just keeps his flashlight steady as they walk to the source of a silent alarm that has been set off, the cameras picked up nothing.

“Derek, you know you can’t smoke in here man! Put that shit out.”

“Dude, chill out.”

Uneasy the man replies, “You might take this job as a joke, but I need it. I got a wife and newborn that I gotta take care of.”

“What the FUCK is that?” Derek stopped short, almost pushing Christopher forward into the man only feet away from them.

“Hello…?”

Christopher shined the light over the disfigured man; who was just shy 8 feet, his nails appear to have been uncut for years, his arms – huge, while his muscles rip with veins from head to toe.

Christopher reaches for his nightstick-like weapon and backs up a step, right into Derek. Christopher turns as a laugh comes from Derek. Derek lifts both arms over his head and the shift into metal blades. Reacting on instinct, Christopher wacks Derek across the face and hauls ass. Derek looks up to the huge disfigured man from his knees.

“What are you waiting for, GET HIM!”

*Grunt*

The huge man swiftly moves across the room as his arms hit the ground in an ape-like motion. Christopher runs across the empty museum, which is lit only by the flickering exit sign and small lights which are above the active cameras. Christopher moves behind an old suit of armor, as the huge man runs right by and into the next wing of the museum. Christopher moves out from behind the armor and takes the ax. He slowly walks through the darkened hallway. In a short distance he sees his grounded flashlight. Derek is nowhere to be found. Footsteps can be heard all around, appearing to be from all sides. The sound of glass crashing sends shivers throughout his body. Then, everything is silent. His breathing breaks the silence, folowed by a simple footstep. He moves his hand over his forehead and makes the sign of the cross, Help me God-

He than makes a run for his flashlight, shutting it off once it is in his hands. He whispers to himself once again and turns it on; finally shining the light over the room.

The room is empty. The light glows as it moves over broken glass over the far side of the floor. There is a spot of blood over a broken case, an ancient bowl was stolen.