Chaos enveloped within the Test Floor as The Consortium scrambled to neutralize the wraiths...

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Zuma saw the two green wraiths swooping in his direction. Ben had successfully pulled Gregory Stills away from harm, who then became the new subject of attention. Zuma hustled over to the young inspector. "Are you okay?" He called out, taking note that the green wraiths were now splitting up targets. When Gregory Stills said nothing, Zuma turned to him and kneeled down until they were eye-to-eye. "Focus, Mr. Stills." He said as he shook Gregory's shoulders, "And follow me." The teen was petrified in disbelief of the horrors that were unfolding all around him, but he beckoned Zuma's call and snapped out of it. 

"Right." Stills nodded firmly, remembering the stoic words Ben had told him just moments before it all went to hell. [i]Wait, where's Ben?[/i] Gregory looked over Zuma's large shoulders to find the Inspector getting chased by one of the wraiths. "He needs our help!"

"No, wait!" Zuma called out, trying to hold him back, but the teen had slipped away from his grasp. Gregory bolted past Zuma and zigzagged between work benches and desks until he was 10 feet from the glowing spirit that pursued Ben. At that instant, Ben flung a random aperture at the spirit. It contained the same blue energies that fueled Consortium weapons.   The wraith was aware of this kind of glow, as it immediately stopped in its tracks. However, the object went through the spirit and smashed onto the ground. Its contents sparkled into the air like indigo fireworks, bouncing around with a static effect that veined into everything it touched. The wraith let out a shriek, jolted by its sudden constriction. It contorted into a swirling mist, struggling to free itself from the blue static field. Then it turned and saw Gregory Stills... 

There was a flash of blue light, followed by an intensity that the teen could only describe as a blanket of jellyfish stings. When the blue lights faded, he saw two angry green eyes glaring right at him. Gregory struggled with all of his might, but the paralytic effects from the item that Ben threw still subdued him. The wraith howled its hellish war cry, the prayer to its yellow king god, then plunged into Gregory's mind. 

"Help!" He cried out, but all he heard was the echoes of his own voice. The darkness had consumed him. Gregory was no longer in the Test Floor of the Consortium. He was somewhere else...a lair of some sort...underground. What was that smell? A mix between iron and old parchment. "W-where am I?!" Little did Gregory know, that his consciousness was transported elsewhere, leaving his vessel back in the Testing Floor at the whims of the Shreth Wraith.