This might be Cooper’s own personal hell.

He had been searching for chems, and was getting uncomfortably needy for them. After passing out momentarily, he woke again somewhere new. Somewhere strangely, distantly, familiar.

A vault.

After two hundred goddamn years of avoiding these monstrous experiments, here he was. He didn't care how much they'd repented. No matter how much they claimed to be normal now, to have righted their ancestors’ wrongs, he wanted nothing to do with them. He wanted out.

“We need to leave,” he insisted firmly, pacing. They took his damn guns, he noted with a grimace. Bastards.