The van's interior buzzed with tension, the inmates still sneering and scoffing at Claus's final, cryptic remark.
"You think you're better than us? Just 'cause you talk fancy?"
"Man, I swear, someone needs to shut him up—"
Claus closed his eyes.
Then began counting aloud.
"Five…"
The inmates quieted, confused.
"…Four…"
The bald man narrowed his eyes. "What the hell are you doing?"
"…Three…"
"Is this some kinda meditation bullshit?"
"…Two…"
The air in the van shifted. Faint vibrations ran up through the metal floor.
"…One."
And then—
BOOM.
A thunderous explosion rocked the entire convoy. The transport van bucked violently, tires screeching as the driver slammed the brakes. Alarms blared. Sirens screamed outside as the other armored vehicles ground to a halt.
The driver, pale and sweating, grabbed the radio. "Unit 7 to command! What the hell was that?! What's happening up there?!"
Static.
Then—
Screams.
"He's back! HE'S BACK! It's—oh god, it's—"
KRAKOOOOOM!
