"Master," the colonel said, tossing his voice over his shoulder toward the massive roil of black mist, "may I present Herr Kapitan Garrett and his Mörder from the other world."
The pile of black mist, already imposing in its multi-meter height and width, swirled in a manner that reminded Garrett of agitated snakes. Mist. Ink. Smoke. Whatever. Somehow, he'd thought the perpetrator of ills against his people would be someone more … solid. How do you deal with a pile of black mist?
He took a small step forward. "Yes. I'm Wayne Garrett, US Army Special Forces. You know who I am; you've been told twice. And I suspect you knew before we got here. So who, may I ask, are you?"
A roar like a mountain landslide sounded in Garrett'...
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