Into The Dark - Second Season

Hey, guys.

So I know my channel's been off the radar for a while,

and no, I wasn't abducted by lizard people

or sent to that top secret CIA prison island,

which by the way totally exists.

I've just had to lay low for a while

'cause, well, I think the feds are watching me.

And like, I mean, yeah,

of course they're watching everybody,

but I'm talking like special ops task force

kind of watching.

And normally, I'd just lay low

till the heat's off, but... well, sometimes,

the truth is more important than safety.

So here goes.

Okay.

It all happened a year ago.

St. Patrick's Day, actually.

Coincidentally, the same day that

a meteor crashed into our town back in the '70s.

It was supposed to just be

a night of college kids getting drunk,

but a lot of people died, like, a lot of people.

You little fucker, come on.

Welcome to Emerald Springs

Did I mention we love St. Patrick's Day?

Yeah, Chicago has the whole green river thing,

but we do more of a green river of puke thing.

What else would you expect from a town full of college kids?

Or, as I call them, "customers"?

Officer Sullivan, what's your 1020?

Yo, this is ridiculous.

I could literally arrest every single person

on this street right now.

Don't have enough cells to hold them all.

Just let them celebrate.

- Fuck me. - You call this celebrating?

I don't know what to tell you, rookie.

You shoulda seen last year.

A whole pledge class took green shits on the courthouse lawn.

You're fucking with me, right?

Luck of the Irish, man.

Shamrock shithole.

Hey, Sullivan, just make it through tonight

and beers are on me, all right?

Yeah, I don't think I'm gonna be drinking

for a while.

All right, I'm gonna head towards the college.

Okay, after that, why don't you catch up

with the Massacre?

Just play babysitter and make sure they don't all die.

Let's go, kids.

Evening, ladies.

Word.

Wow.

Swing and a miss, Officer Fuckboy.

Shit.

Fuck.

Better be drunk or high.

Are you all right there?

Are you okay there?

The hell happened to your clothes, man?

Okay.

All right, hey.

- What happened? - Oh... hey... take it easy, yeah?

You take something, hm?

Drugs?

Hey, are you... are you a student here?

Say something, man.

Okay, I know what you're thinking.

And no, it's not zombies.

People always think it's zombies,

but they have a totally different pathology.

Just... you'll see.

What the fuck?

Like I said,

it's gonna be a fucking crazy night.

No fucking way!

You ever heard of the porcupine's dilemma?

It's the one about those little guys

who wanna cuddle up for warmth

but they just keep poking each other.

It basically means getting close to people

hurts like a bitch.

This is Misty,

and she's smack-dab in the middle of

her own prickly situation.

Up until a few weeks ago,

she and Chloe were besties.

At least, that's what she thought.

Happy St. Paddy's Day!

This is why I don't bother with friends.

Too much baggage and very little upside.

If there's anything my mom taught me,

it's family first, yourself second,

and fuck everyone else.

But Misty's one of those normal girls

who likes having people around.

She's hoping that they can patch things up

the good old-fashioned way:

binge drinking.

Hey, what's up, Misty?

And what better way than an all-night pub crawl?

They call this one the Massacre

because nobody makes it out alive.

Figuratively speaking, of course.

You waitin' on this motherfuckin' bartender?

Stank.

I'm waiting like 30 minutes for a shot.

You know what?

Fuck this, motherfuckers, I'm the bartender now.

Heads back, mouths open.

One for you, two for you, cutie.

Hey! And one for me.

And here's the self-proclaimed

master of ceremonies, Chloe.

She loves to be the center of attention,

and on a night like tonight,

that's not necessarily a good thing.

Misty and Chloe have been attached at the hip

since freshman year.

But some shit went down a few weeks ago,

and when Misty really needed a friend,

Chloe was nowhere to be found.

I mean, I'd kick her to the curb,

but Misty's loyal.

Or, I dunno, maybe just pathetic.

Sláinte!

Let's go!

Hey, Chlo!

Misty!

You made it, girl!

Oh, shit.

That's amazing.

That's fuckin' hilarious.

Yeah, I think I'm finally ready to get

out the house again.

- I'm glad. - Guess who?

Um, probably some thirsty-ass nerd

that won't stop following me around?

More like the person who just saved your dumb ass

from getting locked out later.

You dropped these at the last bar.

- You're my hero. - I know.

I love you so much.

Misty, do you know Yuejin?

She just transferred here from New York City!

She's fancy!

No, I don't think... I don't think we've met.

We have.

I'm in three of your classes.

Meet Yuejin.

She is kind of a bitch,

always down for a good time,

and has a closet full of clothes in Chloe's size.

All the makings of a brand-new sidekick.

Weird.

You're gonna love her.

She's the third Musketeer.

Oh yeah.

Misty's definitely being replaced.

Great!

Welcome to the group.

Thanks.

By the way,

I promise I'm in the story.

Just wait.

For the queen of the bar.

Sorry, they told me to say that.

Who did?

Fucking gross.

Who, Aaron?

Wait, you know Aaron already?

Yeah. I go here.

Aaron Hamilton.

President of Beta Sigma Eta.

He and the rest of these walking boners

call themselves the Wolf Pack.

Barf.

Supposedly, they throw the best parties,