"Rat-a-tat-tat," Charles and his companions' muddied, filthy boots tapped against the smooth floor.
Surrounded by a group clad in black combat suits, Charles moved forward.
In a massive underground garage they stood; however, the vast area was eerily empty with not a single car in sight.
The feeling of suffocation in their lungs had lessened considerably, but rather than the symptoms easing, it was more accurate to say that they were growing accustomed to it.
Charles, holding a journal, looked towards "Seal" at his side.
"Seal" was a towering figure, almost two meters tall. Even the extensive gear couldn't hide his bulging muscles. With a square face topped by short-cropped hair, his eyes shone with a tough resilience.
"Are you the Special Task Force? With that equipment, you seem well-equipped to handle all sorts of anomalies," Charles remarked to "Seal."
A hint of surprise flashed in the eyes of the other, but he chose not to engage in conversation with Charles.
