In desperation, someone called the police, seeking that last sliver of hope.
The Maine police received the call and quickly mobilized.
But when they arrived outside the coffee shop, they were dumbfounded.
The coffee shop, once decorated with exquisite taste, was now covered in a thick black light-blocking film, making it impossible to see inside.
The film seemed to be made of some unknown metal, gleaming in the sunlight, as chilling as a late-autumn night. It separated everything inside the shop from the outside, and separated the boundaries of life and death as well.
Based on descriptions from bold residents nearby, the officers located the coffee shop's entrance.
But the entrance was also completely covered by the black film. One hot-blooded young officer kicked it hard, only to be violently thrown back.
Even speeding bullets could not penetrate the mysterious material.
The officers exchanged looks, realizing this was no ordinary crime. A Supe had to be involved.
Unfortunately, the caller had conveyed little information before being drowned out by screams from the other end of the line. Their chances of survival were probably slim too.
For a time, the situation grew grave.
The news was reported up the chain, and almost every officer nearby was mobilized. Countless dark gun barrels were aimed at the coffee shop.
Unfortunately, against a Supe's power, the usually unstoppable firearms seemed utterly powerless. Even the loudspeaker calls to surrender sounded like a ridiculous accompaniment.
From beginning to end, not a sound came out of the coffee shop.
Someone asked, "Why haven't any of Vought's Superheroes come yet?"
A round of sighs followed. "We've already reported it through the usual channels. It'll take another two days to reach Vought."
"Heh, Vought fights crime every day. Even once they hear about it, we still have to wait