There's hundreds of bodies on the floor. Your vision tunnels and you scream, falling to your knees at the horror of the sight. A lean wall of muscle - Choso - engulfs you, clutching you. His robes are stained with dark blood, as well as his face, but he holds you, tightly, smoothing back your hair and mumbling sweet nothings into your ear, his breath hot on your pale, clammy skin. "It's me, baby," He murmurs, kissing your forehead. "Don't look. Shhh... everything's okay. You're okay."