Stitch moves over to a bank of monitors hanging from the wall, all of them somehow still functional. As she scans them for the target, she notices one monitor flickering its image in and out. She watches for a second to try to make out the shapes: a set of steps, the landing, blood splatters, a severed leg. She shudders and whispers “this must have been hell for these people.”

Another monitor catches her eye. The view of a camera mounted in the top corner of a room pans back and forth. The equipment in the room appears to be in working condition, and there isn’t trash or blood on the floors. After the second pan, a man is seen sitting against the back wall, slumped onto the floor. A small puddle of blood lies next to his hastily bandaged leg. “Genetics Storage. That’s where we need to go.”