Synced to " I Want To Wake Up So Badly " ... By The Newton Brothers
Footfalls can be heard echoing between the buildings as the two approach the entrance. Clickity-clack. Snap. Snap. Claws scrape. Claws scuttle in the black.
"Are you sure there's no one here?" Asks a rough-aged voice. "Yes, I'm sure. You ask that every time we meet." Says a much younger voice.
Two figures enter the building. It's raining, a drizzly-damp rain, cold as the dark of the deep night. The clash of waves and rocks can be heard in the distance. Clickity-clack.
The door squeaks as it opens then closes behind them. The floor creaks as they walk across to a table at its center. The light from the lantern shines through the cracks in the floor. They each stand opposite the other. An aged, wet hand places the lantern on the table. Clickity-clack.
"This place gives me the creeps," exclaims the old voice. "You say that too, every time we meet," replies the young voice.
The two figures cannot be seen fully, not through the cracks. Blood red eyes blink in the darkness beneath the floorboards. Something ghastly moves closer to the cracks in the floor, trying to see through the darkness between the lantern-lit slits in the floor. Suddenly, an expression of pain, it hisses with fangs and backs away from the floor above, and into the damp darkness of its home beneath. Clickity-clack.
"Must we always meet here?" The old voice asks. "Stop complaining, you know they hate that, it makes us look weak in front of our Red Brothers, and that can cost us a great deal," the younger voice says.
"I've heard they're working for The Eye," the old one says. "Don't be ridiculous, the Hand will keep her busy." the young voice says in the night. Other figures can be heard approaching the building.
"Here they come," the old man says. "Besides, we can speak freely here, no one will ever know of our collaboration, whoever comes here anymore? No one, not in years. Seriously, how can anyone possibly hear us?" Declares the young voice.
A shadow beneath the floor move closer into the slits of light - as a plan forms in its squinting red eyes. Clickity-clack. Snap. Snap.