Throughout his years on this earth Devon has woken up in many different places and positions, he can without a shred of doubt say that this was one of the worst. As he opened his bleary eyes Devon noticed three things. One, he had a massive headache. Two, this place looked like shit. And three, he was strapped to a table. With the addition of metal scraping against something that added a fourth category to this shit show. With a groan Devon tested his restraints and found them pretty tight, they weren't going to give any time soon. With a sigh he stopped struggling for a moment. 

Looking around he spotted the little table next to him filled with surgery tools. Most were too dulled or rusted to do much but the scalpel still looked good. With a flash of inspiration, Devon tugged at the restraint at his right wrist and found it slacking a bit. If he could just pull a little...there. Satisfied now that his hand was free, Devon groped for the scalpel and once he grasped it started to cut himself out. It was at this time that two things came apparent, a girl called out and the scraping from earlier was getting louder. 

For reasons unknown to him the scrapping filled him with a primal sense of fear, like it was scratching his mind. Slightly panicked, Devon found it hard to motivate himself to open the door and instead took the scalpel and hid behind some surgical equipment and a fake skeleton... at least he hoped it was fake, it was a little sticky. While this wasn't the bravest thing he could do and very uncharacteristic of him, self preservation won out over pride. Whatever was making that scraping noise was close and its effect on his psyche was getting stronger. Getting the scalpel ready Devon prepared to pounce on whatever pushed through that door.