Hall of Infinite Doors

You stare blankly up at the searchlight, motionless and careful. Eventually whoever's on the loudspeaker begins their shout once more - and that's when you move, darting quickly towards the balcony door, flinging it open and tossing yourself inside the office. And just in time - not a second after your body vacates the spot, a spray of fresh bullet holes spring up in the concrete. The light on the balcony flickers impotently, hunting for you.

The victory doesn't last long. Not a few seconds pass before the thumping at the door becomes critically loud. You hear something splintering, and see a thin shaft of light press through the door. And then they're in, heralded by a boot and the crash of shattering wood, a dozen flashlight beams scattering and then training on you.

You see the glint of gun barrels, open and ready to fire. A heavy voice calls for you to submit. Something buzzes across your hearing, obscures your sight. Something taps wetly against the carpet, leaving a tiny red circle. You move your closed fist and find it's blood, your blood; the fanged star has bitten painlessly but deep into your flesh.
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