It was half past two in the morning and the cold air nipped at every inch of exposed skin, just barely kept at bay by the denim pants and black suede jacket the young man wore. At least, he thought of himself still as a young man, even though he was quickly nearing thirty. He sat on a small, uncomfortable wooden chair, if for nothing else then to rest his legs, starring out of the grimy windows on an unworldly scene. The thick fog outside the window hugged the exterior of the building like a sheet. Illuminating the room the young man occupied as the glare from a floodlight just above the window was reflected almost entirely back into the room. His hands tightened around the flashlight in his lap, wringing its cold metal neck in aggravation. He couldn't stand this view it made his hair stand on end, it made him forget it was night, made him forget that he was five stories up, made him forget a lot of things, it was just the kind of view a person could lose their-self in.
The chair creaked as the man shifted his weight and the deafening siren went off. The horrible wail filled his ears, invading his eardrums, attacking his mind with its awful volume. The man became dizzy as his vision swam, he fumbled around beside the chair for the crowbar lain there. His hand grasped the bar as he lurched out of the chair. His feet beating an uneven rhythm across the ground as he stumbled towards the door.
He threw the heavy wooden door open, the sound of it connecting with the wall beside it entirely drowned out by the escalating roar of the siren. The complete blackness on the other side of the door disoriented the man for a moment before he was able to make out the silhouette of that Thing. The reason for all this, the reason for his gimp leg, the reason he had to lug around this crowbar. He limped toward it, with as much speed as he could, and brought the crowbar down over his head, making contact with a loud crack.
The noise dwindled to a soft whine before going out completely. A small dent now decorated the side of the siren's casing. The man spit on the ground in front of the large monstrosity.
"Crappy thing, why the fuck do you keep going off? Go off again and I swear I'll throw you out of the god damn window," yelled the man.
"Damn, faulty siren," he muttered to himself, turning back towards the door.
The man limped out of the room, his hat slipping off his head as his eyes were drawn to the piece of scrap metal he had cut his leg on the first time he had to go in there to shut off the siren. He picked the hat up and read the small yellow letters sprawled across the front of the dark brown hat "Silent Hill Forestry Dept." He stumbled back to his station in front of the window and looked out into the fog, still couldn't see more than a few inches in front of the window. None of the scaffolding that made up the lower area of the tower, nor the woods below that or the town past that or the lake past that, could be seen. He sighed, and collapsed into the wooden chair, glaring at the various devices and office supplies spread across the desk to his right.
"Yea, this is just the BEST job ever Bro, thank you so much for this GLORIOUS opportunity!" he exclaimed sarcastically into the empty room.