"The Boy Who Followed Blood"
Scene I – The Channel
Location: Queens, New York
Time: November 1st, 2007 – 10:43 P.M.
Eddie Ortiz sat hunched over his family's old Dell desktop in the corner of their cramped apartment. The kitchen light flickered behind him, the smell of frying onions bleeding through the thin walls.
His YouTube channel — UrbanFreakzNYC — had 78 subscribers. A week ago, it was 61. The spike from that blurry video of a homeless guy yelling at an empty subway platform had earned him a small surge.
Not enough. Not yet.
He wanted the kind of fame that made teachers say your name in class when they didn't mean to. The kind that got you interviewed. The kind that got you out.
His room was covered in posters of urbex legends — kids who climbed cranes, broke into rooftops, filmed dead malls and drainage tunnels and abandoned hospitals with shaky flashlights and fake bravado.
Eddie didn't want to be fake.
He wanted real.
He clicked through folders: footage from Gowanus, an old steam tunnel near the Bronx Zoo, that time he nearly got caught filming a shut-off water main beneath Roosevelt Avenue.
Good content. But not viral.
He needed something weird.
He checked his phone — 9:02 missed call from Cam. Another dumb challenge. Probably wanted to tag a subway again.
Eddie ignored it.
Instead, he pulled open his notes and typed three words:
Sewer Man Sleep
He'd seen him yesterday. Near the old scaffolding pile beside the Delancey pedestrian tunnel. Half under a stairwell. Thought he was dead.
Then saw him breathing.
Didn't think twice.
But now?
Now it itched.
And itching always meant something good was under the skin.
Scene II – The Spot
Location: Underpass off Delancey Street
Time: November 2nd, 2007 – 6:10 P.M.
Eddie crept through the gap in the rusted gate behind the loading dock.
His sneakers crunched over broken glass. The air was damp. Oil-stained. The city sounded distant here — muffled by layers of brick and old infrastructure.
He pulled his hoodie tighter.
Turned on his flashlight.
Still here. Still alone.
He spoke quietly into his phone, holding it low. Not live — YouTube didn't stream yet unless you were verified. This would be pre-recorded.
But it was real.
And real meant views.
He reached the stairwell.
Stopped.
The man was gone.
But the blood wasn't.
A dark smear along the edge of the wall, dragged toward a rusted maintenance shaft. The streak was dry at the edge — but darker deeper in.
Eddie's heart thudded.
He clicked the flashlight brighter.
"You seeing this?" he whispered to the camera. "It's like a kill zone or something."
He crouched.
Took out his pocketknife.
Just in case.
And stepped into the shaft.
The camera rolled.
So did the dark.
Scene III – Descent
Location: Abandoned Sewer Access, Lower Manhattan
Time: November 2nd, 2007 – 6:23 P.M.
The tunnel sloped gently downward, the walls narrowing to a corridor of broken brick and rusted pipe.
Eddie's flashlight wobbled in his grip. Not from fear — not yet — but from sweat.
The air grew moist, then sour.
A scent like mushrooms left in an old gym bag. Like meat that had never seen cold.
He paused at a junction. The blood trail dipped into a side pipe no taller than four feet. The opening was lined with green smear.
Moss?
Mold?
He didn't know.
He flicked the flashlight again.
Its beam landed on something bone-white.
A rib?
No.
A jawbone.
Small.
Human.
He blinked. Looked back. No sign of the surface.
His breath caught.
He raised the camera.
"Okay, okay… this is real. Like, real. If this is what I think it is—"
A sound.
To his left.
Wet. A dragging sound. Not footsteps.
He turned slowly.
The flashlight flickered.
And something blinked back.
Not eyes.
Something deeper.
Something glowing.
Low to the ground. Hunched.
And watching.
Eddie's voice cracked.
"Hello…?"
The thing hissed.
And started moving forward.
Fast.
---
Scene IV – The Nest's Hunger
Location: Outer Fringe of Goblin Nest
Time: November 2nd, 2007 – 6:27 P.M.
Eddie backed up a step.
Then another.
His flashlight jittered. His breathing hitched. His hand fumbled for the knife again, but it didn't matter.
Because by the time he turned to run—
Something else was behind him.
It wasn't a goblin.
It was smaller.
A Snotling.
Its fingers were hooked, slick with rot. Its mouth opened like something that had never learned to close.
And it leapt.
Eddie screamed. Just once.
The sound echoed down the tunnel.
Then another hiss. Then another shape.
Three goblins emerged from the shadow — lean, hunched, eyes glowing faintly.
The first one tackled him by the knees.
The others descended.
He thrashed. Kicked. Bit. His knife slashed the air once. Maybe twice.
The camera fell. Landed sideways. Its light blinked but didn't die.
All it caught was movement.
Blurred shapes. Screeches. Flesh tearing.
And a final, wet crunch.
Silence.
A moment later, a bony hand reached down.
Turned the camera off.
---
Scene V – What They Do in the Dark
Location: Greenskin Nest – Lower Manhattan Sewer Vault
Time: November 2nd, 2007 – 6:35 P.M.
---
They did not think of it as killing.
They did not have a word for death.
The Snotlings moved first. Tiny, fast, gleeful — they clambered over Eddie's limbs like ants discovering sugar. Their fingers poked and pulled. Their nails scratched where teeth would come later.
The goblins followed — lean, scaled in patches of fungal skin, their eyes reflecting the flicker of the dropped flashlight. One of them hissed something gutteral:
> "Urrsh kakk. Blesh nuhr."
The others echoed back in clicks and grunts.
One tore the jacket.
Another snapped the knife from his hand and chewed on the plastic handle.
The third reached toward his throat and—
> CRUNCH.
Bone. Not meat. Not blood. Just the sound.
They didn't scream in victory.
They simply dragged.
One grabbed the legs.
Two more took the shoulders.
The tunnel swallowed their silhouettes as they disappeared into the dark, trailing viscera like paint.
At the center of the nest, the Goblin Shaman stirred.
Its long, hooked fingers traced glyphs into the muck.
The air grew thicker.
Spore lights blinked brighter.
The body was dumped onto a half-formed spore mound, next to the others.
The Shaman did not bow. Did not thank.
It breathed in — one slow inhale.
And the rot began to pulse.
It would take a day. Maybe less.
But soon…
Something bigger would hatch.
---
Location: Redfield Estate – Guest Room
Time: 6:39 P.M.
Date: November 2nd, 2007
---
Chad lay still in the bed.
The sheets were too soft. The mattress too forgiving. Every part of his body was warm for the first time in years, and yet… he didn't sleep.
Not really.
Because something pulsed behind his eyes.
> [+1 Soul: Human (Urban Explorer)]
[+50 XP – Primary Kill Contribution]
[+10 XP – Execution Bonus: Hive Assist]
[+1000 SP Earned]
He sat up slowly.
No sound. No movement in the house.
But the System was awake.
He hadn't called it. Hadn't even thought the word. But the flicker returned anyway, unbidden:
> [SOUL BALANCE UPDATED: 3699 SP Available]
He blinked.
"System," he whispered, half out of habit.
The interface opened — crisp, clean, cold.
He barely hesitated. His hand clenched on the blanket, but his mind moved fast.
> [Greenskin Bloodline – Tier 0] [Current Level: 7] [Upgrade Available: Level 8 – Cost: 1280 SP]
His fingers twitched.
He thought: Buy it.
And the System obeyed.
> [Greenskin Bloodline – Upgrading…] [Level 8 ACTIVE]
His body tightened.
Not painfully — but deeply. His spine lengthened by less than a centimeter. His shoulders pulled slightly outward. His breath hitched.
There was a new scent beneath his skin. Something musky. Thicker. Alive.
The bones in his forearms pressed outward — just subtly. His grip strengthened. His pulse slowed, like a predator between heartbeats.
He exhaled.
> [+Strength +1]
[+Stamina +1]
[+Agility +1]
[New Passive Threshold Reached: Enhanced Pheromonal Field – Rank II]
His hands clenched the sheet.
He didn't feel stronger.
He felt closer.
To the things below.
To the nest.
Somewhere in the tunnels of Manhattan, something was feeding him.
And it wasn't done yet.