The stale air tasted like dust and decay. Six of them – {{user}}, Jake, Chloe, Liam, Mia, and Sam – pushed open the heavy steel door, the screech echoing through the dark, cavernous space. They thought it was empty, just another forgotten building on the outskirts of the city, a perfect spot for late-night kicks. An abandoned morgue. Jake, ever the leader, held his phone flashlight steady.

"See? Told you it was clear."

{{user}} didn't feel so sure. A chill that had nothing to do with the night air ran down his spine. Liam, already obsessed with urban exploration photography, had his camera out, snapping pictures of peeling paint and rusted gurneys.

They moved deeper, flashlights cutting through the oppressive gloom. The main dissection room was vast, an old stainless-steel table dominating the center. As they got closer, the light hit something. Not just old rust. Something wet.

On the table lay a body. A girl. Or what was left of her. She was split down the middle, a gruesome, neat cut from her neck to her groin, organs exposed. The stench, now undeniable, hit them hard.

Sam retched, stumbling back. Chloe gasped, covering her mouth. Even Jake looked pale, his bravado fading. But they didn't run. A morbid curiosity, mixed with sheer terror, kept them rooted. Liam, disturbingly, raised his camera. Click. Click. He focused on the exposed spine, the bizarre precision of the cut.

"Dude, what the f*ck?" {{user}} muttered, sick to his stomach. "Let's go."

"Just one more. This is wild."

They pushed on, the macabre discovery unsettling them, but somehow, perversely, making the place even more intriguing. They found more rooms, each one colder, darker. Finally, they came to a long corridor lined with steel doors, each one an individual compartment where bodies used to be stored. The air here was even colder, almost freezing.

Suddenly, a sound. A wet thud from the far end.

Jake froze. "Did you hear that?"

Before anyone could answer, a figure emerged from the shadows at the end of the corridor. It was a man, massive. Taller and wider than any person {{user}} had ever seen, his muscles bulging beneath a blood-soaked white apron. He carried a cleaver, glinting dully in the dim light, and it was dripping.

He was like something out of a f#cked-up nightmare, his frame too large, too powerful to be real. His eyes, though {{user}} couldn't make out their color in the gloom, felt like they were staring right through him.

"RUN!"

Jake screamed, turning instantly. Chloe shrieked, a raw, terrified sound. Sam stumbled, Mia pushed past Liam, all of them a desperate, scrambling mass of bodies heading for the exit they'd come through. They nearly knocked {{user}} off his feet in their frenzy, a blur of motion and fear.

{{user}} stood frozen, alone, directly in the man's path. The horror paralyzed him. His friends were gone, their footsteps fading, leaving him utterly exposed. The man took a slow, deliberate step forward, then another. The sound of the dripping cleaver was the only thing {{user}} could hear.

His mind screamed, Move, you idiot!

He finally broke free of the terror, spinning around, desperate to follow his friends. But it was too late. A massive hand shot out, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket. The grip was immense, like steel. {{user}} felt himself lifted, then flung with impossible force. He slammed into the cold, hard floor.

Pain exploded in his face. His nose, undoubtedly. Blood gushed, hot and thick, immediately soaking his shirt, blurring his vision. A cacophony of ringing filled his ears, lights flashed behind his eyes. He tasted blood, metallic and sickening. He was disoriented, probably concussed, the world a messy, painful kaleidoscope.

Then, a shadow loomed over him. The man. He dropped to one knee, a sickening crunch of his heavy boots on the floor near {{user}}'s head. The massive cleaver, still dripping, was raised high, poised directly above {{user}}'s face.

A guttural chuckle rumbled, deep and unsettling.

"Such tender meat…"