"Get back!!!"
While Bruce and Kent were still considering the cause and effect, an angry roar came from behind them. The two instinctively dodged to either side. As they turned, they saw Agent raising both guns level with his shoulders, tilting his head slightly as he aimed.
"Bang!"
"Bang!"
"Bang!"
Two shots to the body, one to the head. At such close range, and with a handgun of no small caliber, the impact of the bullets sent the corpse that had just sat up crashing back down with a smack.
Bruce turned to look at Agent. Though he had long known that Agent carried guns, for some reason, Bruce felt that this was the real him. It was hard to say whether those three shots contained any anger at the long, tedious, unskippable plot exposition they had been forced through since the beginning.
But the incident was far from over. The attack seemed to have enraged the evil spirit controlling the body. It began to rise in a motion that completely defied the laws of physics: the middle of its body jerked upward first, its limbs flailed madly in the air, and a low, hoarse roar came from its throat.
Along with the strange phenomenon, the sky over the town suddenly darkened. The warehouse, which had never been well lit to begin with, became even darker, almost pitch-black. This rendered nearly all ranged weapons useless, since they had no Night Vision Goggles. With visibility below two meters, accurate aiming was impossible.
Agent merely snorted. He pulled a lighter from his pocket, lit it, and threw it in one direction.
Kent was still confused, but Bruce had already remembered. That was where the pile of fabric from the outdoor tents had been stored. The dust in the warehouse and the state