[i][b]Guts - Siberian Research Facility[/b][/i]

Guts had been wandering and collecting chess-themed key cards for some time by now.
"Let's see. Bishop key." he said, swiping the card across the pad. It had taken him 20 damned minutes to figure those things out. The black swordsman stepped into a room filled with large, cylindrical tanks, containing large humanoids with various states of mutation. One in particular had its eye stapled shut, a few others were gray, some with spikes sticking out of their bodies.
"What is that? Are they studying demons? To keep them here, this place must be crawling with magic." he said aloud. It had been a while since he could talk and not have Puck say something dumb. It was almost worth trading off the elf's healing dust. Almost.
Scratching the back of his neck, he shuffled around the room, finding some documents with boring magic stuff Schierke would know, some of those weird plastic tubes, and a blueprint for something called a "Phazon bomb".

Everything in this building was absolutely useless, Guts decided. Chances were, there wasn't even an Apostle, and the Brand is what attracted those undead in the first place.
[i]I'm getting out of this damned tundra ASAP.[/i] he thought to himself, stepping back out into the halls.