The corridor had transformed into a gruesome place, littered with the lifeless bodies of gangsters who lay sprawled across the floor, their corpse marked by the chilling sight of blood splattering the walls and floor.
The furniture and fixtures lay in shattered pieces all around, scattered without order. The bodyguards, facing dire circumstances, had ingeniously transformed these broken remnants, employing whatever they could grab to get an advantage against the enemy.
Tables were upturned, and the corridor decor was in disarray. Cheap paintings crashed to the floor, their frames splintering on impact, as the bodyguards scrambled to solidify their position.
"What the hell is happening here?" one of the guards grumbled in frustration, wiping his knife clean after finishing off yet another gangster. "Why the hell do they keep coming at us like suicidal idiots?"