"You're right, of course," said Detective Voutar. "We can't do anything to you. It wouldn't be right."
The door creaked open, and something hunched and dark crawled in. Thick, corded muscles bunched and flexed as moon-pale claws left faint gouges in the concrete floor. It had either one too many or one too few limbs.
"I think I hear someone calling me. Out in the hall." Voutar waved and shut the door gently behind him.
"It's nothing to do with me," he said to no one in particular as the noises began. "It's good to be the good guys."
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