Hangar Office (Arrest Confrontation Site)

A cramped office wedged between the vast hangar floor and the T-Rex containment chamber, its single barred window offering fragmented views of the monstrous silhouette beyond. The space reeks of aviation fuel and stale coffee, the linoleum floor sticky underfoot from years of ground crew boots tracking oil and grease. A scarred metal desk sits crooked on its legs, its surface lamp casting long shadows across stacks of maintenance logs and UNIT briefing sheets held down by a half-empty jar of instant coffee. Tension tightens the air like a wire, the hum of the hangar’s emergency lights buzzing overhead as the Brigadier’s demand echoes off the cinderblock walls, their boots clicking sharply against the concrete floor where a spent shell casing glints near the door. The same door that seals shut with a metallic clunk—a reminder this is less an office and more a holding cell for volatile truths.