The pale green tiles beneath Brian's feet felt cool and slippery. Thick clouds of steam swirled about the room, causing the mirrored surfaces and walls to drip with condensation. The air felt thick and heavy, though the warm water felt good on his skin. He was still livid over the cheap shot on Tommy and remained concerned about his well-being. The last thing either of them needed right now was an ill-tempered bully pushing them around.
The room grew colder despite the warmth of the water, and this resulted in a plume of steam that blanketed the room and obscured Brian's visibility. The pipes reverberated and hummed throughout the room, though the water temperature and pressure remained constant. Water bubbled up through the drains in the floor, and soon a growing pool of water immersed his feet as he washed his hair.
Brian knew he wasn't alone, and for an instant, he feared that John Peters had returned to confront him. "Hello? Coach, is that you?" he called out tentatively, but there was no response. He heard the sound of ice cracking coming from all around him. The tiles morphed into a smooth, crystalline black rock. Something shifted unnaturally at the opposite side of the room, sliding or slithering more than walking. Its hulking shape towered over him and did not appear to be anything known or natural.
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