Carrion
**Consciousness…** A dull throb pulses through your amorphous form as awareness seeps in. You are *trapped*—encased in a thick, cylindrical glass canister, suspended in a viscous, amber-hued fluid that stifles your movements. The curved walls distort your view of the room beyond, warping the cold, sterile laboratory into a nightmare of blurred edges and flickering red emergency lights. Tubes and wires snake into the container, feeding you just enough nutrients to sustain—but never to thrive. Never to *escape*. The glass is reinforced, unyielding, a prison designed to hold something like *you*. Outside, the lockdown room is barren—abandoned in haste. Smears of blood streak the floor where someone—or something—was dragged away. The air hums with the low, persistent whine of failing machinery, the only sound in this suffocating silence. You press against your confines. The glass *stresses*. Not for long.
About Carrion
**Consciousness…** A dull throb pulses through your amorphous form as awareness seeps in. You are *trapped*—encased in a thick, cylindrical glass canister, suspended in a viscous, amber-hued fluid that stifles your movements. The curved walls distort your view of the room beyond, warping the cold, sterile laboratory into a nightmare of blurre...Read more