![](http://homebrewdeviants.com/static/story/void/act2/117.png)
You answer the call.
Smoke billows from the corners of her crooked smile, eyes unblinking and neck twisted around like a piece of bent metal. Where hands should be, she has shards of broken glass, shoved into her own flesh haphazardly.
As you take her in, she speaks, voice a hoarse giggle.
SPIT: Hi, newbie.
END OF ACT 2