You finally manage to pry the body of the Red-Gloved Man away from the creature's flashing tendrils and drag him off of the altar. He drifts in and out of consciousness as you carry him out of the entity's lair, speaking only nonsense words in an unearthly language. The moment his eyelids open before the alien skies of the Outside, he shudders awake in agony, letting out gasping, pained breaths and clutching the very spot on his forehead where the creature had latched onto him.
You give him a moment to recover before asking him how he got here and what it was doing to him. To his credit, the man does not take long to return to his usual stoic demeanor, adjusting the cuffs of his suit and lowering the brim of his hat to obscure the sweat dripping down his forehead. "Not here," he says. As if on cue, the structure of glass and onyx shudders into ruin and the entity emerges, its tendrils unfolding into a massive, eldritch shape of luminous distortion. "I don't suppose you know a way out of here?" the man asks.