After that last Scream i had

The sky was too bright. Not cheerful—sharp, as if the light itself were trying to cut through something hidden. Thin clouds streaked above, restless in the wind, and beneath them, our jeep rumbled to a stop on a wide city road.

We had just arrived — a squad of six, dust trailing behind us, packed into a black vehicle that looked like it belonged in a warzone, not a calm place for people. Its reinforced frame gleamed dully under the sun, scarred from past missions. The engine sighed as it shut off, like even it was relieved to rest.

I sat still for a moment, my hand resting on the door handle, reluctant. The others were already moving — boots scraping the pavement, chatter starting up.

We weren’t in uniform, not officially, but we looked the part. Each of us wore practical gear: fitted jackets, belts strapped with light weapons — a mix of firearms and close-range blades. A few had bows, compact and deadly. We were a cross between soldiers and shadows. When cities burned or chaos broke loose, we were sent in — not to take control, but to clean up. Quietly. Efficiently. Permanently.

I finally stepped out, my boots landing on solid ground, but I felt... unsteady. Not physically. Deeper. Like the air itself was watching.

To our left, a line of simple restaurants broke the stretch of pavement — not busy, not empty. A couple of shops served tea and fried snacks to quiet locals, students, and delivery boys. The sound of a spoon clinking against steel floated by, blending with the hum of a low-volume radio playing an old song. The air smelled like cardamom and frying oil.

“Ten minutes break,” Arin announced, cracking his neck. He was already unstrapping his gloves, walking toward a tea stall. His voice was relaxed, but he hadn’t unbuckled the knife on his hip.

Rhea was next — silent as always. She moved to one of the benches, ordering two cups with a nod, blade still slung over her shoulder like it was part of her spine.

Dev and Kiran leaned back on the jeep, scrolling through data or tapping settings on their gear.

Me? I turned and looked right. And that’s when I felt it.

Across the wide boulevard stood the college — pristine, vibrant, almost too perfect. A white multi-storied building gleamed in the sunlight, its windows tinted blue like mirrored eyes. The gates were wide open, welcoming, with students flowing in and out in colorful waves.

The campus buzzed with life. Laughter echoed faintly. Groups of students sat on the grass or walked in rhythm — couples holding hands, friends teasing each other, backpacks slung carelessly on shoulders. There was a guitar playing somewhere near the central steps. A speaker shouted something cheerful about an upcoming fest. It was normal. Healthy. Too healthy.

I watched longer than I should have. And slowly, I began to notice it.

They all moved… just a little too smoothly. Their laughter came at the right times, their glances synchronized like a well-rehearsed stage play. It wasn’t obvious — to anyone else, it might seem like a happy day in a good place. But to someone like me, someone trained to spot trouble before it explodes, the pattern was there.

Kiran followed my stare. “You good?”

I didn’t answer at first. My jaw had clenched without realizing. “Something’s… off.”

“Looks like paradise to me,” he muttered, but his voice lowered.

Arin returned, handing out chai. “I mean, for once the ground isn’t on fire. You ever think maybe it’s just… not cursed?”

That’s when it happened.

A loud bang rang from the upper floor of the campus building. It wasn’t a gunshot — too hollow, too accidental. Maybe a door slamming. Everyone turned. A few students laughed. One mimicked the noise.

I kept watching.

A window on the third floor had its curtain drawn. And then, just for a second, it moved.

I swear I saw something behind it. A face. Not a student. Not a professor. Just… something.

Pale skin. Eyes too dark. No emotion. Gone in an instant.

My spine locked. The chai cup in my hand stayed untouched.

Dev noticed my silence. “What’s wrong?”

I didn’t answer. My eyes flicked from the window to the crowd. They were still laughing. Still moving in harmony. Still too… perfect.

Nothing seemed out of place—sunlight gleamed off clean windows, and the courtyard rippled with motion and color. But as I stood there, leaning slightly against the jeep, a strange feeling curled in my gut. It wasn’t the college—it was something deeper, something silent, circling. The air felt too still beneath the surface noise, like a predator watching behind a smile. I glanced around, instinct sharpening for no clear reason, heart ticking faster with no target in sight.

I felt my heart thud harder but …

“I think we should be ready,” I said quietly.

“For what?” Rhea asked.

I didn’t know.

But I’ve learned to trust that feeling — that tension in the chest, the ringing in the ears, the subtle twist in the air when something unnatural is about to break through reality.

The world around me still looked calm.

But I knew better.

This wasn’t peace. This was a mask.

And behind it, something was waiting to start.