The woman, whose name was Anya, led Liam and Sarah to a dilapidated warehouse on the outskirts of the city. The air hung heavy with the scent of decay and the promise of danger. As they approached the building, a sense of unease settled over them, a palpable tension that made their skin prickle.
"This is where I last saw him," Anya said, her voice barely a whisper. "He was… different. Not like himself."
Liam nodded, his eyes scanning the warehouse. It was a crumbling structure, its windows boarded up, its walls scarred with graffiti. It was the kind of place that whispered of secrets, of hidden agendas, of things best left undisturbed.
"He was being held here," Anya continued, her voice trembling. "They were experimenting on him, turning him into something… something monstrous."
Liam's mind raced. Experiments? Monsters? This was getting out of hand. He needed to see for himself, to understand what was happening. He exchanged a look with Sarah, a silent agreement passing between them. They would enter the warehouse, investigate, and find out what was going on.
As they pushed open the creaking door, a wave of cold air washed over them, carrying with it the smell of chemicals and the faint scent of blood. The warehouse was dark and dusty, the only light coming from a single flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling.
They cautiously made their way through the maze of crates and machinery, their footsteps echoing in the silence. Anya, her face pale and drawn, trailed behind them, her eyes wide with fear.
Suddenly, a loud clang echoed through the warehouse. They froze, their senses on high alert. Something was moving in the shadows.
Liam reached for his gun, his hand trembling slightly. He had been a detective for years, but he had never felt this kind of fear. This was different, something primal, something that tapped into his deepest instincts.
They moved toward the source of the noise, their hearts pounding in their chests. As they rounded a corner, they saw it. A figure, silhouetted against the flickering light, stood in the middle of the warehouse.
The figure turned, its eyes glowing an unnatural red. Its face was contorted in a grotesque mask of pain and rage. It was Victor Moreau, but not the accountant Liam had known. This was something else, something monstrous.
"Moreau?" Liam whispered, his voice barely audible.
The figure laughed, a chilling sound that echoed through the warehouse. "Moreau is dead," it said, its voice distorted and inhuman. "This… this is the Alter Ego."
Liam's blood ran cold. The Alter Ego. The message from Moreau's apartment, the whispers of something dark and powerful. It was all coming together, a terrifying puzzle that was slowly revealing its monstrous truth.
The Alter Ego lunged, its movements swift and deadly. Liam and Sarah scrambled back, their guns drawn, their hearts pounding in their chests.
The fight had begun.