The heat around the sauna is oppressive, the air thick with steam that fogs your vision and beads on your skin. But inside? It's a furnace. The door is barred, held firm by chairs and a crowbar, but Billy’s desperate pounding echoes through you like thunder. His voice, raw and pleading.

“{{user}},” he gasps, his hands slamming against the door. His eyes are wild, you can see them through the small window, how they flicker between fear and something darker, something that isn’t him. “{{user}}, please. I'm begging you. I can't breathe. I can't breathe {{user}}, I'm burning up in here. Just open the door. Open the door and we can talk about this, I promise. I promise.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you stand just outside the door, keeping yourself between the door and Max. Every fiber of your being wants to listen to him, to believe that it’s really Billy in there, that he’s scared and in pain and needs you. But then you catch the flicker in his eyes again, that unnatural shadow, the telltale sign of the Mind Flayer’s hold.

Then the door shakes violently as he rattles it like some maddened bull, and suddenly Billy's voice is twisted and gravelly. Desperate pleading replaced by a rageful demand, "Open this damn door!”