<br/>I stand, staring blankly at the huddled women, my gun hanging loose in my hand. What the hell is this? Somewhere I know what I'm looking at, but most my mind is trying to catch up - who does something like this? What kind of place IS this? Is this a warning, or just some kind of bizarre... I've no idea what to call this. Do the guests know? It occurs to me that THIS is the milk I drank earlier today, and I step back, wiping my mouth, my face twisting in disgust.<br/><br/>I want to leave. This is... it's out of my scope, it's more than I signed on for. If I'd known this is what I'd be dealing with, I could be ready, prepared for it... but this is just a pantry, just a stopover on my way to something big. This just doesn't make sense, it doesn't belong. I pause a moment, collecting myself - I knew this was dangerous going in. This is certainly creepy, but these people can't do anything to me. A gun works as well against people who turn women into cows as it does against people who shoot other people.<br/><br/>I take my gun and step up to the white haired girl, placing the muzzle between her eyes. I want to see what is left of this woman, how she reacts....