"We have... a problem."
The Baroness rolled her eyes. "You may have a problem, but you've been paid handsomely. I expect delivery, or there will be..." the faintest trace of a wicked smirk slithered onto her face "...penalties."
"There is the matter of safety, madam. The... item is more difficult to handle than anticipated. If we could discuss—“
“There will be no discussion. Off with you.”
He withdrew to the anteroom, where Yon waited.
“Fine. We can get the beast here, the chains should last a few more hours. After that...” Yon shrugged.
He looked up at the warehouse wall for a long time, taking it in. Eventually, he rested the shotgun on his shoulder, We might just make it though this.
She laughed, nervously, a release of bottled-up tension. “Jesus.”
"But, what could have done it?"
"Maybe something we pass around they weren't immune to. Remember 'War Of The Worlds? I think that was the common cold. Lord knows they ate enough people to be exposed."
"This isn't fucking science fiction, Marjorie."
She gestured to the giant insect embedded into the wall. "Looks pretty much like fucking science fiction to me, Brett."