There were saws. Bone saws. There were pliers with bits of something stuck in the teeth. There were hooks, filleting knives, and heavy cleavers.
"Okay," Leo muttered, "Torture room. Your standard villain stuff."
Then he looked at the bucket in the corner.
It was a large, wooden bucket, the kind used to mop floors. But it wasn't filled with water. It was filled with chunks of red, wet meat. A fly buzzed around it.
Next to the bucket was a large stone slab with a drain in the center. The drain was crusted with dried brown fluid.
Leo's stomach did a flip.
"Or maybe it's a kitchen?" He tried to console himself, "A lot of the bad guys like doing their dealings in cold storages and kitchens. No big deal."
"Maybe they are just... preparing dinner?" He spoke to himself.
He paused. The thought didn't make him feel better.
