Alvin looked at the cup of blackness across the table from him and flexed. His forearms bulged within his restrains and the veins seemed to bubble even bigger than they did minutes before.
“Now, now, little one. We have to be easy with these addictions.” The man in the suit paced behind him, his face under the grey fedora was shadowed above the interrogation light making Alvin’s face sweat. “It’s just coffee, Alvin. And in the morning you’ll thank me.” He walked over to the other end of the table and took the seat in front of the steaming black liquid. He sighed across from Alvin and placed the fedora at the cup’s side, lifted the cup and took a sip.
“Mmmm. Gotta admit, though; it is pretty ~”
Chains ripped from the walls as Alvin skin flooded with muscle. This shirt shredded from his chest and he dove across the table in a monstrous howl. The man’s cries were muffled as Alvin’s inhuman claws sunk ripped the man’s trachea from his throat, dowsing his own beastly form in the dark water of the man’s body.
Alvin sprinted from the body to the kitchen where he pulled the still steaming carafe from under the green light of its home and dumped over his muscle-raging skin. Black steam rose from his body and sprinted with him through the front door.
Futile gunshots whistled into darkness. Screams followed, and the man in the once grey suit lay still in the maroon-stained puddle of the dimly-lit concrete floor. Nearby a white porcelain coffee cup lay upturned, empty.