Tillman coughed and averted his face when the gas hit him. He held his breath and glared at the opposing wall. The doctor had referred to him as paranoid and yet here it was. Games and tricks.
He waited for the familiar sensation of drug induced lethargy or light headedness. When neither came, he assumed that he hadn't been dosed properly. He was mentally celebrating the thought when he realized something was off about the room. Where uniform gray concrete had been, there was now uneven reddish rock. His eyes flicked back and forth as he searched for an exit that was nonexistent. All that remained of the interrogation room was the one-way mirror. He released his held breath and sucked a fresh one in through his teeth.
Boo.
Tillman jerked back in his seat. He could not remember the mild mannered doctor that had been sitting across from him for the last fifteen minutes. His mind was locked on the thing in front of him. It was grotesque, wicked, impossible to exist in the real world. He knew it was not real, but the rush of blood in his ears drowned out logical thought.
Having trained for the better part of twenty years to defend himself, Tillman's instinct was to get his hands up. The monster in front of him was shaped vaguely like a man and he knew that if he hit something in the face enough and it would stop moving. Try as he might, he couldn't move his arms. The force holding him back was impossibly strong and he could feel little needle-like teeth tearing into his wrists with every violent, resistant jerk.
no subject
He waited for the familiar sensation of drug induced lethargy or light headedness. When neither came, he assumed that he hadn't been dosed properly. He was mentally celebrating the thought when he realized something was off about the room. Where uniform gray concrete had been, there was now uneven reddish rock. His eyes flicked back and forth as he searched for an exit that was nonexistent. All that remained of the interrogation room was the one-way mirror. He released his held breath and sucked a fresh one in through his teeth.
Boo.
Tillman jerked back in his seat. He could not remember the mild mannered doctor that had been sitting across from him for the last fifteen minutes. His mind was locked on the thing in front of him. It was grotesque, wicked, impossible to exist in the real world. He knew it was not real, but the rush of blood in his ears drowned out logical thought.
Having trained for the better part of twenty years to defend himself, Tillman's instinct was to get his hands up. The monster in front of him was shaped vaguely like a man and he knew that if he hit something in the face enough and it would stop moving. Try as he might, he couldn't move his arms. The force holding him back was impossibly strong and he could feel little needle-like teeth tearing into his wrists with every violent, resistant jerk.