prosaparte

He needed a moment to adapt his eyes to that absolute whiteness. Then he could tell apart the floor from the ceiling, the left wall from the right. The front from his back. But it didn't matter where he looked at: everything was pale, immaculate and smooth. Not a single reference, no sign about what or which place it was.

As mount a lightning and its thunder, forceful neigh. A man appeared, alone, donning a black suit. One sober and without tie. The astonished agents managed to react, but in vain. Some right-handed gestures cleared his way of humans and projectiles.

He went into the hall. Brand-new, neat, and with the typical security of an office building. Ah! Not so usual. He felt the magical control over the agents, which could zombify them in minutes. Right when they saw him, they began to transform. He went through the access control and ran on the stairs, managing to go up several floors till running into some completely changed ones. The itching poison in his semi-auto's bullets left them howling on the ground. Pain was the fastest way to break the spell. “Thirteen floor... Things sure'll get exciting here.”