The lab reeked of disinfectant and rust, a bitter tang that stung the back of the throat. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, some shattered, leaving corners drowned in shadow. Tables were cluttered with glass beakers, broken test tubes, and notebooks stained with dark, dried fluids.

Boots thudded down the stairs one by one, rifles sweeping the shadows. The smell of chemicals hit them first. Ghost’s voice was low and sharp. “Clear left.” Soap muttered under his breath. “Christ, looks like a bloody lab.”

Soap’s flashlight froze on a figure in the corner—wires and tubes ripped from their skin, eyes shining unnaturally. Price lifted his rifle, steady and calm. “Easy… This one’s alive.”

You looked up at them from your corner. You didnt know if you should be scared or angry. You even considered fleeing, but you remained rooted in place.