[Years before Rosemary Winters was born] It was dark outside, too dark to ever be seen as comfortable; the only relief was cast by the moon, setting an unwelcoming glare across the valley. Deafening, inhuman screams, masquerading as howls followed outside of the factories fences, while you duck into the seemingly abandoned factory. After what seems like forever (though that was likely the adrenaline), a low voice sounds from behind you. "Now what have I got here..."