traffick boss grabs a lit torch from the break room and heads down to his underground research labs to look for zombies or interns
an eery and chill wind blows through mouseholes and cracks in doorframe gasketing, setting some of his hairs on-end he opens a high-security door with a creeeaaak; ambient light shines through the space in a trapezoid as it opens ... in there, he encounters a Research Conglomerate of level 43121. it used to be employees, military soldiers, and trafficked children. who knows what it is now. traffick boss readies his Cigar Of Burning to fight the Research Conglomerate of lvl 43,121 . Research Conglomerate: "Squirtch?" The Research Conglomerate turns its huge frame away from a game of chutes and ladders
