Zgomot Alb I Black Nanites ᴘᴛ.ᴏɴᴇ

⏱ Around midnight | 📍 Somewhere outside Cluj-Napoca, Romania | 🏰 Heisenberg’s Chamber of Horrors | 🌫 Cliché-cold and foggy

A continuing story set after: Welcome to... RIDDLE CITY!

Despite its modern architecture, the Cluj-Napoca Airport seemed strangely bleak. Cold, white light reflected off the immaculate floors, bathing the vast entrance hall in a sterile atmosphere that stifled any sense of warmth. People moved silently past one another, exhausted, wrapped in dark clothing, and with that typical emptiness in their eyes that one saw almost everywhere where stress and hustle were the order of the day. Even the PA announcements sounded bored and distant. Outside, thick fog hung over the streets of Romania, swallowing the city lights more and more as the night wore on.

A black car was already waiting at the exit. Large, old-fashioned, unassuming, and yet it stood out, next to it stood a man who looked like any ordinary soldier. Broad shoulders, closely cropped hair, a plain military jacket bearing no insignia, and a face that remained completely impassive. He didn’t say a word, didn’t even spare his counterpart a single unnecessary glance, he merely held up a sign bearing a green question mark. The person who was to be picked up was Edward Nygma, fresh off the plane from the United States, searched multiple times by border police, frisked by customs officials until they felt right under his skin.  As the car finally began to move and Cluj slowly disappeared behind them, the atmosphere shifted imperceptibly. At first, apartment blocks, gas stations, and dimly lit streets passed by, but after only a short time, the surroundings grew darker, lonelier, and increasingly oppressive. The roads narrowed and the forests grew denser. Massive fir trees stretched toward the sky, and their tangled branches nearly swallowed the pale moonlight. Fog crept across the asphalt, wafted between the rows of trees, and made the entire landscape seem unreal.

Out here, Romania looked like something out of those old, familiar horror movies, not like a country that had developed alongside modernity. Every now and then, isolated houses appeared along the roadside. Small farms with caved-in roofs, rusted fences, dark windows behind which no one had likely lived for a long time. Some buildings looked as though they had been abandoned in a hurry and never entered again. The drive dragged on for hours through this desolate wasteland until, finally, the massive silhouette of a castle emerged between the mountains. Perched high atop a cliff, the Dimitrescu Castle loomed, even from a distance, the structure looked monstrous. Crumbling towers jutted crookedly toward the sky, while sections of the walls had already collapsed; the fog crept slowly over the ancient stones, but breathed no life into them. The surrounding lands were scarcely less unsettling. Amid overgrown fields lay the remains of a small village. Collapsed houses, rotting barns, and dilapidated carts half-submerged in the mud. 

But eventually the scene began to change again,  the roads became better maintained, and wide avenues wound through the hills. Behind iron gates, luxurious country estates appeared. Immense Victorian-style estates, surrounded by meter-high hedges and ancient trees stretching their gnarled branches over the paths. Wealth was unmistakably present here, and yet the entire area felt desolate, almost abandoned. Not a single window was lit, not a soul was on the streets. Finally, the carriage turned onto a narrow gravel path. The rows of trees grew closer together until, after a few minutes, massive iron gates emerged from the fog. They creaked open slowly, revealing a large estate. At first glance, the house seemed unremarkable. No excessive luxury, merely a massive Victorian mansion whose dark walls almost blended into the night. Tall windows, black roofs, and stone figures standing motionless along the path. It was quiet here, not even the wind could be heard, only a faint electrical hum hung in the air and carried through the darkness, as if a powerful generator were working and groaning somewhere. Strigoi parked the car, nodded wordlessly to Edward, and took his travel bag, he led the guest through the entrance hall of the house. It was immediately clear that no one really lived here, it seemed untouched and cold, even though the light was pleasantly warm and a fire was even crackling in the open fireplace. The two men stepped into a large, old-looking elevator. Strigoi pulled the heavy metal door shut, and as the elevator began to move, endless stone walls glided past them. It took nearly 10 minutes before the cabin came to a stop, rocked back once more, and the soldier could slide the metal door open again. 

Down there, any remaining elegance of the house vanished. The actual complex began deep beneath the estate and seemed like the exact opposite of the tranquil Victorian façade that lay above it. Massive metal structures stretched through the underground halls, cold light flickered everywhere, while heavy generators pulsed monotonously and the air was filled with electricity. Isolated figures moved among the metallic structures. Some appeared human at first glance, until one noticed the mechanical limbs or the unnaturally rigid behavior. Others simply vanished behind thick security windows and tangles of cables. The entire area felt less like a home and more like the laboratory of a madman. Strigoi led the way silently through the facility. Deep in the distance, a distorted growl sounded, but it fell silent just as quickly. Finally, they reached a quieter area. A heavy steel door opened, and behind it lay Heisenberg’s office. The room seemed almost normal compared to what lay outside. Old leather furniture, bookshelves full of file folders and yellowed documents, half-empty whiskey bottles. Cigarette smoke hung in the warm light of the lamps, and photographs were stuck to the walls, as if they’d been literally shot into them with nails. Some pictures were pierced multiple times, others hung crookedly, as if someone had scattered them there out of boredom. And despite all this disorder, the room seemed strangely alive. Not like the sterile building up there, but like the actual center of this entire estate.