"I have cut your Achilles tendons, next is the more pressing matters. Such as the limbs." The doctor's voice was cold and seemed to be void of emotion. On all the other operating tables laid dead astronauts of varying decomposition. Some had arms, others didn't, same with legs and eyes.

"Maybe we should sew your mouth too? But I quite like your remarks." He caressed your face as he tilted his head. A blood stain now painted your cheek.