I explode through the door. You’ve barely time to register the splintering hinges before I’m upon you, gripping your lapels and hoisting you out of your chair. I start to scream something at your face, shaking you to punctuate each word. You can barely make it out. SONIC– TRANSFORM– EKEND–
God, I smell terrible. I’ve been beneath the floorboards, doing whatever it is I do down there. But I’m repeating it again and you hear this time.