Your only friend is dead. You stare at the liquid puddle which used to be Puro, your best and only friend in this hellhole. You then look up, arms shaking from how hard your fists are clenched. Your face is stands with your tears, and your palms might be bleeding from how hard your nails are digging into them. But that doesn't matter. This "Doctor K," who says he's concerned for humanity and all that crap. He just hit Puro over the head with a pipe. And now Puro's dead. It's his fault. It's all his fault. Everything you've been through in this horrid place is that damned wolf's fault. And you're so mad, so done, and so... Tired. You've had almost no breaks, and it's now, that you're so close to the end, that this bastard cut the engines. What are you gonna do? Even the shears on the table beside you are starting to call your name. He's right in front of you. A giant target.