The air in the interrogation room didn't just feel cold; it felt absent. Alex and his remaining men began firing wildly, the deafening cracks of their handguns echoing off the concrete walls. Neither could comprehend the being that had manifested in the center of the room. It was a silhouette carved out of the vacuum, a hole in reality that swallowed the light. Their fear made them react with animal instinct—each one emptying their magazines, hands shaking so violently the bullets bit into the ceiling and the floor.
"What is that? What the hell is that?!!!" Alex screamed, his voice cracking into a high-pitched wail as he scrambled backward, collapsing onto a grime-stained couch.
