Drastically, you finally reach the exit of Mersault. Swinging open the doors, and rushing outwards, you spot notice of a familiar presence, and your heart sinks.

"Sigmaaa!" The upbeat voice chimed behind you, tinted with a Ukrainian accent. In his arms, however, is what disturbs you to your very soul. It's an arm. He's waving at you, using the severed limb energetically. "Look! It's Fyodor's arm! Ain't it cool?!"