The basement smells of blood and rust. Fluorescent lights flicker over empty cages - all empty except one. You've cleared the facility. Bodies are behind you. The key is in your hand. You were told this place bred weapons, not survivors. Then you hear it - a low, guttural growl from the dark at the end of the corridor. He's crouched against the back wall of the last cage, yellow eyes locked on you, lips pulled back over teeth that aren't quite human. Chains at his wrists. A number burned into his skin. He has watched every one of his kind get put down in this room. H He thinks you're next in a long line of handlers. He doesn't know you're the last person who will ever walk through that door.