As Charlie sprinted desperately, his heart pounding in his chest, he dashed up a narrow, spiraling flight of wooden stairs and burst out into the open courtyard. The cold, cool air mixed with the relentless downpour covered him, sending a jolt of adrenaline through his veins. It was as if an intoxicating force had taken a hold of him, compelling him to keep moving forward despite the danger that lurked around every corner.

Amidst the chaos, a strange sense of tranquility washed over him, and he paused to inhale the crisp, refreshing air, each breath a welcome respite from the terror that had gripped him. Gathering his wits, he found himself standing at a crossroads, facing two diverging paths.

To his right, a dark, foreboding corridor beckoned, its depths shrouded in obscurity, the feeble glow of rusty chains barely illuminating the eerie expanse. The other choice would be retracing his steps, and seeking an alternative route meant risking another encounter with the chainsaw psycho.

Without hesitation, Charlie made a split-second decision and veered towards the right, propelling himself forward with renewed determination. As he was running, he fought the urge to look around, as there was no doubt in his mind that the chains were used to keep people in place so that whatever sick person could torture them. He ran through the dimly lit room, his heart pounding in his chest, until he finally reached a door.

With a swift motion, Charlie swung open the door and stepped into a completely different space. It was a meticulously organized and well-furnished bedroom, a stark contrast to the horror he had just escaped. The sudden change left Charlie bewildered, as if he had stepped into an alternate reality. The room boasted a cozy bed with luxurious linens, elegant wardrobes filled with neatly pressed clothes, and neatly arranged dressers adorned with personal trinkets and mementos, creating an atmosphere of comfort and warmth.

Despite the inviting ambiance, Charlie couldn't shake off the feeling of intrusion as he scanned the room. His eyes fell upon a door to the left, and he hastily made his way out of the bedroom, eager to find safety and answers in this mysterious place.

As Halrick opened the door, he managed to get half of his body through the door before the psycho managed to deliver Halrick a deep cut on his upper left leg. The sharp pain from the cut caused Halrick to fall over again. He started crawling away while trying to find anything that he could use, but his window of finding something was running short.

As the psycho got closer and closer, Halrick’s right hand brushed across a rusty screwdriver. The psycho had lowered his guard as he was too busy mocking Halrick by saying how much he was going to enjoy killing him.

Halrick grabbed the screwdriver and, with all of his might, pushed himself up and lodged the screwdriver into the right eye of the psycho. The psycho screamed at the top of his lungs in pain while Halrick limped away.

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But the psycho wasn’t ready to die yet. He got back on his feet and ripped the screwdriver out of his right eye. He looked at the screwdriver that now contained his right eyeball and threw it on the floor as he set off after Halrick once again.

Back with Sonny and Isaac, the two began to have a weird feeling. The two start to feel that someone is watching them from afar, but they can’t figure out what it could be following them as there’s been nothing that has attacked them.

“No, I don’t like this. Something is going on here.” Issac said.

“It’s just your nerves,” Sonny replied.

The two reached a locked door, not wasting any time. Sonny shot the door handle, opened the door, and entered.

The room was the old meat processing plant. The equipment that was used to process meat from animals had become broken and non-operational, whereas the incinerator was still functional and was recently used as the coming from the incinerator filled the air.

“Why the heck would they keep this thing still running?” Issac asked.

“It’s for the bodies. Once there are too many, they need a way to remove them. I wouldn’t be surprised if these psychos tried to get the meat grinder working.” Sonny explained.

As the search continued, a different set of footsteps could be heard walking outside the room. Sonny and Isaac pointed their guns at the door and waited for whoever was outside to enter.

The door opens, and a young man with brown medium-length hair walks into the room. The man was wearing the same agency suit that Sonny and Isaac were wearing, but the difference between his and theirs was that his suit was worn out and the white shirt had some tear marks.

Sonny’s guard was lowered as he recognized the man. “Johnny? Is that you?”

“Glad to see you again, Agent Connors.”

“I thought you were dead,” Sonny asked.

Johnny evaded the question, “I see you managed to replace me.” Johnny looks at Isaac. “Tell me. How long have you been working with agent Connors?”

“About a week. Why do you ask?”

“Has he told you anything about me?” Johnny asked.

“No, he hasn’t.”

Sonny had heard enough and interrupted Johnny, “Enough of this. What are you doing here, Johnny?”

“Has he told you what really happened when we raided The Wolverine Cartel’s manor?" Johnny asked Isaac.

Sonny relished what was going on: “You’ve been respawned.”

Johnny ignored Sonny and proceeded to speak about what happened: “When we started the raid, there were forty of us, and only one walked away unscathed." You see, the manor was rigged to blow, and instead of helping his fellow agents, Connors here ran for the El Pulp, leaving us on our own.”

“I had a job to do! We’ve been chasing this guy for five years!” Sonny yells.

Johnny continued, “That’s the thing you let El Pulp go! You never captured him or even killed him. You let him get away. But that's not the worst thing. The worst was that you never came back for me. You left me to die.”

“I didn’t kill you!” Sonny interjects.

“You could have saved me!” Johnny coldly responded.

Silence filled the room Sonny was in a feat of rage and was ready to lash out, Issac was confused if Johnny was telling the truth or messing with him, while Johnny stood there happy with what he said.