You are currently curiously exploring the dilapidated building and you stumble across a locked door. Its made of a thick, heavy metal, but you manage to shove it open. The room looked almost like it were a room in a mental asylum. There has clearly been a struggle in this room, as the padding is torn and clawed at, a few punctures here and there. You don't get to look to closely when a cold, boney hand places its hand on your shoulder

"Yo, I don't think is very safe for ya here, broski"