3: Chapter 3 The Little Grey Man Gets Electrocuted in the Basement

Then, that thing blinked.

Those two large black eyes, which took up most of its face, suddenly lit up with a layer of eerie blue light. Circles of light, like some sort of scanning beam, lit up one after another from deep within the eye sockets.

The light wasn't blinding, but in the dim parking lot, it felt indescribably eerie.

It was scanning him.

In that instant, Link's brain went through three stages of collapse.

Stage One: This is a prank, right?

It must be some movie crew filming a prank reality show. The mask was quite realistic; it might be a Hollywood special effects prop.

He almost rolled down the window to say to the "actor," "What's the name of your show? I'll look it up when I get back."

Stage Two: But there are no cameras.

He instinctively scanned the parking lot; there were no reflectors, no boom mics, and no film crew huddled in the corners.

In the empty parking lot, there was only him and that thing.

Stage Three: That thing's eyes are glowing.

It wasn't some LED light or fluorescent paint; the interior of those two eyeballs was emitting an eerie blue light.

The light had an indescribable biological quality, like a cold light emanating from the deep layers of the eye tissue.

Link opened his mouth.

It felt as if something was stuck in his throat.

He instinctively wanted to scream, but his vocal cords seemed to have suddenly lost their function, producing only a low, muffled rasp that could barely be called a sound.

His back slammed against the seat, his spine hitting the backrest with a dull thud. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white from the excessive force.

That wasn't some Hollywood prop.

That was a living thing.

Living.

An extraterrestrial creature.

Very much alive.

A real.

Alien.

His heart hammered in his chest like a crazed bull.

He had lived for twenty-six years, seen Aliens countless times in movie theaters, mocked conspiracy theorists countless times on TV, and told people countless times over dinner, "How could there possibly be Aliens?"

Now, less than ten meters away, a small grey figure that perfectly matched every alien conspiracy theory description was blinking its large, blue-glowing eyes and staring at him.

The Grey Alien also realized it had been discovered.

It didn't run away, or rather, it didn't run away immediately.

Instead, it slowly raised a long, slender finger—about as long as three human fingers—to the narrow slit that served as its mouth.

A gesture for silence.

"Shh."

Link even felt like he heard that "shh," even though the Grey Alien hadn't opened its mouth at all.

Then his fear deepened.

Because that gesture for silence was too human-like.

It knew what "keep quiet" meant; it possessed a behavioral logic that resonated with humans.

This meant it wasn't an animal; it was an intelligent life form, a species with a high level of civilization from beyond Earth.

And now, in the underground garage of the Las Vegas City Hall, it had made a gesture for Link to shut up.

The absurdity and reality of it all intertwined, like a heavy hammer shattering the entire cognitive framework he had built since childhood.

His world view cracked open in that instant.

The official statements in the news, the denials from the Department of Defense spokespeople, the Area 51 conspiracy theories his father had told as jokes—they were all fake.

All of them were fake.

And the truth was right before his eyes.

However, in his state of being swallowed by fear, Link actually managed to do what the Grey Alien requested: "don't move rashly."

He was frozen in the driver's seat, his hands and feet cold, his lips trembling, without making a single extra sound.

The Grey Alien seemed satisfied with his reaction.

It lowered its finger, crouched even lower, and began moving toward the far end of the parking lot on all fours like a quadruped.

Its movements were surprisingly quiet, its palms and soles making almost no sound on the ground, yet it was fast, like a startled giant gecko.

It was trying to escape.

However,

before the Grey Alien could even run twenty meters, a row of dark red lights suddenly lit up next to the fire pipes on the ceiling of the underground parking lot.

The light didn't look like ordinary illumination; it was more like some sort of directional indicator beam, carving a straight, dark red path along the ceiling pipes.

The ventilation duct cover was pushed open again.

This time, it wasn't slowly pushed open from the inside.

Instead, something from inside the duct slammed it open at a speed far exceeding human movement.

Two people.

Two Men in Black suits.

Their movements were too fast.

Link didn't even see how they came out of the duct.

His retinas only caught two black afterimages.

Then, the two Men in Black had already flanked the Grey Alien from both sides.

Their movements lacked any redundancy, like precisely programmed machines.

One blocked the Grey Alien's path forward.

The other approached from behind and raised a hand, releasing a bolt of eerie blue electricity.

The Grey Alien's body convulsed violently, its limbs losing their support as it slumped limply onto the concrete floor.

Link's hands gripped the steering wheel so hard it creaked.

He couldn't recognize what kind of weapon that was.

But he was certain it was definitely not standard police equipment, nor was it any military equipment he had ever heard of.

Then, he heard footsteps.

The sound of high heels on the concrete floor was crisp, steady, and unhurried.

The sound came from the ramp at the parking lot entrance, getting closer.

Link stiffly turned his head.

A middle-aged woman in a dark grey business suit was walking down the ramp.

Her pace was steady, and her expression was as calm as if she were walking into her own office.

She was about forty years old, wearing rimless glasses, with short hair and a sharp, cold facial profile that showed no emotion.

A work ID hung around her neck, with some words printed on it that were illegible in the dim light.

She walked up to the subdued Grey Alien and squatted down.

She carefully checked something.

Link couldn't see what she was checking; he only saw her reach out to feel the Grey Alien's neck area and then make a gesture toward the ceiling.

A brief, sharp gesture.

The dark red lights on the ceiling went out instantly.

The parking lot returned to its original dim, flickering fluorescent lighting.

Then, the two Men in Black took out a grey bag.

The material of the bag looked special.

It wasn't ordinary cloth or plastic; the surface had a matte, flexible texture that didn't reflect any light.

They put the unconscious Grey Alien inside with clean, efficient movements.

After the grey bag was zipped shut, Link could see it struggling violently.

The Grey Alien had woken up inside the bag and was desperately trying to break free.

But it was useless.

The two Men in Black held the bag down from either side like two silent statues.

Then,

the middle-aged woman stood up.

She turned around.

She looked toward Link's car.

At that moment, Link's heart felt as if it were being squeezed hard by a hand.