The abandoned, half-built factory lay silently in the midst of the darkened forest. It was late and the townsfolk had gone to sleep by now. But if you got closer, you could hear the deafening muffled yells of a man bound to a chair. Masky took one final drag of his cigarette before he crushed it under his boot and grabbed his bloodied crowbar. He chuckled sinisterly before approaching the man.