Creepy Explorations: Volume 1 (Lemon)

Luka Kumiega

Noah's vibrantly lit apartment becomes a blackened hellscape in an instant thanks to a power outage. All that saves his face, twisted into a widened shock, from getting swallowed by shadows like everything else is the screen's blue glow of his now useless, disconnected laptop.

"Aw, dangit!" Noah curses as he scrambles you up off your tri-pod. He seems to not have gotten to the part where he was doxxed for the whole world to see, the poor oblivious kid. "Of all the times for the power to go out...it might be the breaker, let me check it real quick."

He uses his phone's flashlight to navigate the darkness with, stepping outside his apartment and gently shutting the door behind him so the sound of metal clicking and wood creaking is only faintly carried down the shadows of an endless-seeming hallway by an echo. Bare feet can be heard pitter-pattering from beneath you as Noah makes his way down the slender corridor lined with numbered doors just like his own that would be pitch black if it weren't for the feeble shine of his flashlight. Noah enters the complex's stairwell through a commercial door, then one of its supply rooms through a red wooden door marked "Maintenance Closet". The place is cramp and dank, cluttered with all sorts of storage shelves and cardboard boxes. The breaker box's panel is wide open to show that its switch has been flipped off. Noah cranks the lever on and the box gives one loud and satisfying start-up hum like a generator roaring to life as it rejuvenates the whole floor with electricity.

"There, crisis a-AHKK!!!"

A thin garrote wire comes swooping down the screen. Noah drops his camera to the floor and it lands in the shadow of the corner so you get a low angle shot of him getting strangled by a mostly unseen individual dressed in all black. His feet are lifted up off the floor as they kick and squirm in a fight or flight reflex, before he's lowered back down onto his knees to represent his dwindling life, then onto his side so he's laid to rest and his attempted assassin has to crouch down into frame. She's a bald woman covered from head to toe in European prison tattoos, though most of them aren't seen thanks to her sharp dress code of a business suit, leather gloves, shiny heels, and pantyhose. She stares him in the eye as she chokes him to death, however the stern look of professional fury dissipates once she gets a good look at her victim's purple face.

"Jesteś tylko...dzieckiem?!" voice clearly conditioned by heavy smoking, she speaks Polish over Noah's chokes and wheezes. Wait...a Pole? You remember one of the DarkBook status updates mentioning an assassin named Kumiega, a Polish surname, and how they didn't kill those under 18 or something. "Mój klient drań mnie okłamał..." The circulation to Noah's brain is long cut off, so all that leftover blood is dumped into his crotch instead to make for one throbbing hard-on that pokes straight out his unbuttoned fly. She chuckles when she notices it. "Cóż, gdy jestem tutaj, równie dobrze mogę się zabawić, zanim pójdę..."

Using the garrote tightly wrapped around his neck as a leash, Luka reels Noah in for a kiss, almost like an apology for killing him. But then she tears the wire from his nape like she's ripping off a band-aid and he plummets to the ground, hyperventilating and hacking as he rubs his bruised throat. The hitwoman rises to a stand and slips her hand underneath the lapels of her suit, pulling out a silenced pistol, pointing the barrel straight at Noah's head, and pulling the trigger. With one little "pmph!" from a handgun as its suppressor spews out a puff of thin smoke, Noah's grueling gasps for breath are instantly snuffed out of his existence, as is all structure and movement in his body. For a second, you think Noah is actually dead, but then remember that that'd be impossible since someone had to upload the video you're watching. Kumiega digs two of her fingers into her dress skirt and starts vigorously scratching the moist pinkness below her waist, which induces the creaking of her leather gloves, the squelching of her fleshy insides, and the soft and shuddery moans of her unprofessional self.

The hitwoman bends her legs a bit to better aim her genitals over Noah's, so clear, watery fluids can drip down from her fingers and vulva onto his erection, still high and mighty despite the rest of his body seeming stone dead. Her gasps and squeak increase in volume before finally, a perfectly aimed spray of pussy sap comes pouring down onto Noah's cock from a gap in her skirt's waistband. She expertly steadies her vitals and recomposes herself in record time before getting on her knees between Noah's slump legs. She bends over and deepthroats his glistening cock with such aptitude it's like she was born without a gag reflex. She makes sure to slurp up every cell of vaginal juice off Noah's hard-on to stylishly cover her tracks. Luka's thoroughness underestimates Noah's sensitivity, however, and she only gives herself more of a mess to clean up when an outburst of semen hails down onto his face. Well, that at least proves he isn't dead, since corpses can't cum. (That should be a band name.)

"Gówno," she curses with a reluctant smirk.

She grabs Noah by the neck and laps the self-facial from up off his cheeks, eventually getting him and the crime scene squeaky clean. Luka plants a ginger kiss upon Noah's forehead and plucks something out of his temple that wasn't seen from this angle until now. It's a black tranquilizer dart, no bigger than a tack, that she then slips into her coat to clean up any evidence (except the camcorder she never noticed), straightens her tie, and exits the closet. All you can do is stare at Noah's unconscious body for the next couple minutes until the sedatives finally drain out his system and he stirs awake. He sluggishly picks himself up off the cold concrete floor, groaning in discomfort. You can just tell by the way he looks that he must feel like he got hit by a train in his unplanned nap.

"What...happened?" he asks hoarsely as he feels his sore throat, its bruising already fading.

He notices the camera smuggled in the corner and crawls over to retrieve it.

"The last thing I remember is...turning the breaker back on...I must've passed out or hit my head or something...explains why I feel like crap...doesn't explain why I feel all wet," Noah mumbles as he rises to his feet and goes to leave the breaker room. "Remind me to watch over the footage later," he facetiously asks of you. 

He ventures underneath the glowing red "EXIT" sign of the stairwell's door and takes another lap back down his floor's hallway, now it's all sunshiny and brightly lit; the polar opposite of what it was not but 6 minutes ago. Despite the lights never once dimming again, the atmosphere certainly dips right back down to a survival horror setting when Noah approaches his apartment and finds a severed, human-sized doll head hanging from the door by the knob.