This team was absolutely not cut out for field work and diplomacy had just broken down. As soon as the thing bore down (up?) on them, Sitwell had his silver-loaded handgun out and ready, but it collided with Agent Coulson then disappeared, along with a clear shot and chance at retaliation. Which was bad, but it would be worse if another one came for Sitwell, so he wheeled around and aimed blindly into the darkness down the stairs with only the narrow beam of the flashlight to see by. Everything was black. The Rice Krispies had gone soggy and inert. Something fluttered in front of the flashlight.
"This is the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division!" he announced clearly and only a little higher on his regular octave. Slowly, creeping down the stairs one at a time, still aiming into the nothingness towards which he ventures, he continued, "My name is Agent Jasper Sitwell and I urge you to stand down!" Or something really terrible will happen and you will regret it, that was supposed to sound like. But Sitwell was hyper aware that he was one man, and his only backup out here was just torpedoed into another room.
"Ooooh, Ag-ent Jasssper Sitwell," moaned, purred and hissed into his ear, throwing Sitwell into a panic that sent him stumbling, tripping on the flashlight then crashing down the stairs. His gun was gone. His head throbbed. He squinted, and could only see a few inches in front of his nose, the flashlight now flung from sight. Whatever was there was getting closer, though, and smiled with big, white teeth. Sitwell flung himself onto his knees and scrambled blindly into the dark.