The familiar sound of doors opening up, Rodger walked out quietly and glanced around the familiar place he had been too for what felt like 57 times already, whipping out a hand crafted gun and checking the amount of smoke there was left in it. He shoved it back in his pocket and sighed, the same old cycle again with the occasional ambient sound or two which Rodger had gotten used to since everyone else had died for nothing.. Like an animal (well they twisted but you get the point) the unfortunate consequence of surviving. Rodger took a deep breath and exhaled readying himself for another stupid journey, fixing his posture as he had been in a pretty injured and struggling state due to the various attacks from Twisteds, he finally began limping to find some machines

You'll be fine, just rinse and repeat.

He muttered to himself