EXT. SLUM FRINGE – EARLY MORNING
The sun hung low behind a smoky veil. Lena, Briggs, the Girl, and Ward followed an overgrown service path into a part of town no map covered—Old District 5, home to the decommissioned meatpacking plant known only in whispers as "Slaughterhouse Red."
BRIGGS (grumbling):
“Smells like something’s still dying.”
WARD:
“Place was shut down long before the infection. Locals claimed it was haunted. I saw what really happened—no ghosts. Just the first experiments.”
INT. SLAUGHTERHOUSE RED – MAIN FLOOR – MOMENTS LATER
The door creaked open. Inside: rusted hooks, conveyor belts, dried blood like black stains on concrete. A low mechanical hum echoed through the empty halls.
THE GIRL (whispering):
“They fed the pigs… people.”
Lena flicked her flashlight toward a corner—movement. A shadow darted behind a row of hanging carcasses.
WARD (raising rifle):
“They’re here.”