The door opens silently on well-oiled hinges, leading into a small enclosed room barely bigger than a closet. As you move to Bly's right, your hip collides with what feels like a small table, and a cascade of objects crashes to the floor with sharp metallic clangs. Bly swings the light to your side of the room, taking in a bewildering array of surgical instruments scattered over the floor.
"I've seen a lotta shit in my life, Klel. But I don't want to turn around right now."
But turn she does, slowly and deliberately, until her light shines on a reclined chair, the fur of its occupant casting shadows like sharp quills on the blood-spattered wall behind it. You step forward, overtaken by morbid curiosity.
The wolf's head hangs back at an unnatural angle, and his chest is still. Long, sinuous wounds run in bloody furrows down the victim's torso.
"God…" Bly exclaims. "They tore his claws out."
Bly's light shines down to the wolf's hanging paw. The long lupine nails from each digit have been brutally ripped out, leaving gaping crimson holes in the flesh.
The reality of the situation comes crashing down on you, and suddenly you can no longer observe the scene with detached interest. Bly lurches over to the corner of the room, and her chest heaves. Strings of bile drip to the concrete floor, soaking the dislodged implements of torture.
You look on with concern, but it's taking everything you have to keep yourself calm. "Are you going to be okay, Bly?"
"Shit," she mutters, wiping a hand over her mouth. "I could tear into someone in a fight all day, but this? This shit is so fucking wrong. It reminds me of when I first crossed the bridge and saw the experiments. Sorry I lost my shit, Klel. I guess they're gonna know we were here."
"You don't think they'll notice the smashed-in door?"
"Fair point." She pauses. "Did you recognize the victim?"
"Yeah. I do. It's Dena's father."
"Damn, Klel. I'm sorry. I know you two are close."
"We can't worry about that right now. First we need to get out of here," you say, desperate to leave this place behind forever.
Creak, creak, creak.
You whimper. Footsteps on the floor above.
"Oh fuck," Bly whispers. "Someone's here."