"What... the... fuck…" Mark breathed, standing in the doorway, looking into a room straight from a nightmare. This place was fucked up, no doubt, but THIS?

Mannequins and crude animatronics were scattered about the large workshop, some being repaired, some done. Slowly, as if one of them might come alive and jump at him, Mark made his way through, holding his tripod like a bat. It wouldn't kill, but it would sure as hell hurt.

Thankfully, nothing moved as he made his way into the room, and eventually, he stopped at a workbench, looking over the scattered papers curiously. He wanted out of here, but any clues as to why this was happening would be nice, too. He skimmed over the pages, lost in the jargon when he heard a crash in the distance, and a startled yelp.

His head shot up, and immediately he made his way towards the source, peering into the next room.

"Who's there? Are you alright?" He asked, realizing he could be talking to Du'Met...