Elias froze. He didn't turn around. He looked at the real monitor, then back at the video feed. The figure in the video leaned down and whispered into the ear of the "Elias" on the screen.
Elias laughed it off as a dated prank until he noticed his mouse moving. It wasn't drifting; it was tracking his eyes. When he looked at the top left corner of the screen, the cursor followed. When he blinked, it clicked. The Feedback Loop VAG-004.rar
The signature at the bottom of the page read: "Archive Complete. Commencing Upload of Subject." Elias froze
Panicked, he smashed the power button. The screen went black, but the audio from the archive—the heavy, mechanical breathing—didn't stop. It wasn't coming from the speakers anymore. It was coming from the hallway. The figure in the video leaned down and
The next morning, the computer was gone. In its place was a physical manila envelope. Inside was a printed screenshot of his desktop, the cursor hovering over a new file that hadn't been there before: .
But in the video, there was something else: a tall, thin silhouette standing directly behind his chair.