Meanwhile, a while ago, inside one of the rooms in the warehouse, something was about to haopen.
The room itself exuded an air of foreboding, its atmosphere thick with tension and uncertainty. Dim light filtered through a small, grated window high on the wall, casting elongated shadows that danced across the cold, concrete floor. The walls, rough-hewn and painted a drab, industrial gray, bore the scars of past interrogations, marked by gouges and streaks of unknown origin.
Metallic fixtures hung from the ceiling, their function obscured by years of neglect and disuse. A single, flickering overhead light barely illuminated the space, casting eerie glimmers on the water-streaked walls. The air carried the faint scent of dampness, a testament to the room's neglect and isolation.
