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Oh, Nicole, you have no self love for yourself. Why are you saying this? You're actually stepping towards the bathroom that stinks worse than a summer outhouse. You take a deep breath and pinch the bridge of your nose. Time to get this over with.
"Fucking hell!" Okay, yeah, this sucks. The bathroom has been flooded with sewage water that goes up to your ankles. You don't even want to look at the toilet, you can tell that's where most of the smell is coming from. Your stomach twists and turns. You're about ready to throw up right here and now.
>16: SUCCESS!
Yet you don't. You swallow down anything threatening to burst out of your mouth. You can handle it. Ignore the rank water soaking into your shoes. You can do this. You try to look around to see what exactly is even in here. You only went in here on a gut feeling after all.
Your eyes catch a glint of something inside the bathroom sink. It's filled with stagnant, dirty water but you are curious what's inside. You stuff your hand in there to see what it is. The urge to throw up comes back but you're a strong girl, so you choke it back. You manage to pull out whatever is inside of it.
In your hand is a plastic bag with two things in it. <span class="mu-g">An employee ID card and an old handwritten note.</span> Which is odd, why would he be hiding these things in a bathroom sink of all things? Was he just having an episode- "Nevermind." You interrupt your train of thought. You can examine it when you're out of here.
You stumble outside of the bathroom. It doesn't smell much better in the room but it's at least tolerable now. You open the bag to get a better look at the card and note.
"PHILLIP SMITH. OCCUPATION: ASSISTANT MANAGER. DOB: 1/21/2141. ACCESS LEVEL: 3. AUTHORIZED BUILDINGS: AVALON THEATRES + WILSON AND MILLER STUDIOS. AUTHORIZED TO ENTER MOST EMPLOYEE ONLY ROOMS." Well, well, well. That should save you some time when you explore those areas! You place it into your pocket for future use.
>+EMPLOYEE CARD
You skim through the note while you step over to the other papers on the wall.
"I'm done playing along with those rich motherfuckers down at the studio. They brought in a robotic replacement for me. Some new robot toy from E-Corp. Fine. Let them bring in their new toy. It won't do anything without my god damn card!"
A robot at the studio? You vaguely recall that warning the Handler said about something biomechanical roaming around. You're not quite sure how androids were back then. <span class="mu-b">Maybe the studio is dangerous to go into, then, if that's where it was assigned.</span> Some decent forewarning at least.
You put it back into your pocket before you try piecing together the notes on the wall. You don't have much time here so you mostly start skimming past the ones that seemed like they would take too much time to read. You rip off the three notes you feel like you could read in a short enough timeframe. Something about the handwriting seems familiar. A desperate, frantic scribbling.
