In the paneled office, the glow of the lamps dimly illuminated the room, accentuating the deep wrinkles etched on the face of an old man.
Dressed in a suit, he sat behind his imposing wooden desk.
The two agents, Owen and Lafan, stood before him.
The old man let out a sigh of exasperation at this late meeting. He grabbed his glasses and adjusted them on his wrinkled nose.
"Why am I here at such an ungodly hour?" he asked, his tone dry as he fixed his piercing gaze on the two agents.
On his desk lay a file revealing an incident that occurred a few hours ago in a neighborhood of the city.
A partially destroyed building and a completely devastated street.
The old man squinted.
A look of discomfort floated on the young woman's face, while her colleague, devoid of any scruples, seemed more than pleased with such a summons.
