Crack

Consider it a blessing.  Even in the last throes of its existence the building made for a spectacular show, each window exploding outward in showers of twinkling glass to the streets below.  From the street it looked as if someone had tossed buckets of water out them, falling in a very liquid pattern.  Inside the collapse had started, each floor smashing itself down upon the one below, downwards into the basements and sub-basements.  Ruined support pillars that should have prevented such an event had been torn up by the blast, falling inwards to be flattened under the load.

The only piece that didn't seem to fit was the silence, oppressive in its nature.  It should have been loud, cacophonous even as the debris mashed together, smaller bits and dust flooding out into the street and above the pile of stone and wood and metal.  The blast before, the boom of it all left all ears within a few blocks deafened, effecting a silent, beautiful collapse.  The eardrums would be healed in a few weeks, perhaps.

Now begins the panic, mouths opened in mute screams, wide eyes and wild gestures.  Each playing a part in each other's silent movie, devoid of subtitles.  If they stopped to think for a moment some might have even found the humour of the phenomena.  As it is, bits of building raining down cut out any levity that could spark and scared people dash for cover.  Most make it, bruises and cuts and a thin covering of dust for their skin.  Some stumble, fall, hit by larger pieces.  Others just get the coating of dust, having reacted more quickly, been more lucky.

Unlike the silence, the movement doesn't shut off as completely as the sound did.  The building is still, some of the people are still, but others are walking around as the dust settles gently.  People are shocked, slow.  Somewhere deep under the pile of rubble is a stirring.  Most of the surface is braced together, so the movement alters nobody present of the street.  Still, down below an entity stretches its limbs.  The set up had taken time, precious time when the building had been empty.  Each of the three cases before, days, months, weeks ago had been scrapped as people returned to the building.  It had succeeded this time, been faster, been given more time.  With a wriggle, the entity started to worm its way through the spaces, upwards, out of the mess that had at one time been considered a prison of sorts.  The surface began shifting after a while, little bits moved as the entity climbed and squeezed and pushed.  The street didn't notice, either because there was no telltale noise or because of the inconsequential nature a few shifting rocks meant to them.  That they thought was inconsequential.  Still, the entity was spotted as it surfaced, crimson snout first as it pushed away a chunk of concrete.  Teeth like knives lined up in its smile, the rest of its vaguely anthropomorphic lizard body.  And then it screamed.

In the same way as before, the windows around shattered first, supports and walls crumbling in the echo that was unheard.  The wind of it still hit them, though.  People fell down if they weren't lying on the ground already, some confused and more frightened at the continued explosions, not seeing the entity.

Then it was gone, escaped, leaping over the broken and breaking streets towards the edge of town.  Its captors would return in minutes, curse, and begin the chase.  Perhaps this one would be considered a terrorist bombing or a generator explosion.  The people there would be silenced themselves, by money, fear, or patriotism.  Those on the outside would believe it, perhaps.  Conspiracy theories had been raised before, some even on the right track, so this was nothing new.  Still, next time the entity would be locked up a bit tighter.