// DECLASSIFIED_RECORD_CONTENT
A journal was recovered from the body of a creature that attacked Norse HQ, it read as follows:
Week 1
I arrived at the camp today. This place sucks, exactly like Yuri said. The others on the team are in decent spirits, but I’m just tired. Tired of the endless missions, tired of Bodrov’s arrogance, tired of pretending like this is anything other than glorified exile.
Week 2
We set up the main camp at what looks like a collapsed hospital. There’s something wrong with it, like the walls are listening. My partner, Yusef, says he has been hearing whispers, but I think it’s the wind. This place is unnatural. I don’t want to be here. I’m be done with OSS. Just one last tour.
Week 3
Routine patrol yesterday, but something was off. We spotted human figures moving in the distance. They stumbled, like drunks, wearing tattered uniforms from the 80s. No one survived those early expeditions, I’ve read the files. So, what the hell were they? Pamyats, they called them. Last night I heard something scratching outside my tent. When I opened the flap, there was nothing. I barely slept.
Week 4
Half the team is sick. No one knows why. Fevers, strange dreams, mumbling to themselves. Oleg keeps talking about his family, repeating his wife’s name over and over, like he’s trying to remember it. But it’s getting harder for him. This place feels draining, makes us forget things. I had a dream last night. My mother, standing on a hill, but her eyes were empty, black holes staring back at me. She whispered something I couldn’t understand. I woke up shaking.