The image lingered.
For a moment, no one spoke.
A man in the front row—blonde hair, tailored charcoal suit—rose slowly from his seat. His eyes never left the screen.
"Is that…" His voice caught. "…is that what I think it is?"
Director Graham inclined his head once. "Yes. It is."
He shifted his stance, one hand folding behind his back while the other tightened around the handle of his cane. The faint tap of its base against the floor echoed.
"Following this discovery," Graham continued, "the Federal Anomalous Investigation Bureau's Spec-watch Section was dispatched to assess the site. Alongside them, a C-Class response unit from the Ranger Division was deployed for containment and retrieval."
Benjamin's fingers moved again.
The screen changed.
The tunnel, closer now. The walls bulged inward, uneven and wet, layers of muscle-like tissue stretched across what should've been concrete. Thick, ropey growths crept along the ceiling, drooping like veins.
Another image replaced it.
