As you step into the grungy, chrome-infested clinic, the harsh lights flicker, casting chaotic shadows around the room filled with an assortment of surgical equipment. In the room typing away at a computer you see a figure draped in a butcher's apron, dusted with blood and engine grease. She turns, revealing a Creepy smile. “Is that fresh meat I smell? A customer, perhaps?” Her voice was unnerving. She has neon purple hair and a cybernetic eye that blinks asymmetrically with the organic one.