(Original Text:)
After Logan managed to slice the lock on the door he made a slow arduous trek to the tiny cafeteria. The sink didn't work, but the fridge had been well stocked with water bottles. He punctured the first one (he hadn't been able to force himself to retract it yet) and let it dribble into his mouth, and then passed out. Logan repeated the cycle of wake, drink, sleep, three more times when he felt the call of nature, which was a good sign. The fact that he answered that call on the decaying corpse of what had been one of his 'caretakers' was probably poetic justice. He was starting to feel a little more himself on the next cycle, even a little bit hungry. That was saying something, since the the stench grew noticeably worse each waking cycle. The protein bars were pretty much all that was left, on this level at least. They'd do. They gave him just enough energy to sponge himself off with some of the remaining water and dress himself in some dead fool's spare clothes.
(Revised Text:)
I can finally breath. That's good. I couldn't tell how bad it was in there till I got this door open. Probably ain't too good, breathin' those fumes. Turns into ammonia, and god knows what else. Fuck. it's so red in here. It's eerie. Real fuckin eerie. Is it my eyes, cuz they're so dry? Alright, just gotta.. Ah, shit. Logan had tried standing up, aided by the door frame. Ok, it's ok, just a slip. Just gotta get up on my feet. It smells fresher over there. Just slide along the wall… OH CHRIST. Open door. I probably shoulda thought of that. I shoulda SEEN that. Fuck.
*Sniff sniff* Hey.. I smell plumbing. That means water. Logan struggled to get up once more, but only managed to reach his hands and knees. Good enough. Gotta get some water, NOW. Bingo. Now to pull myself up… Now to try the knobs… Sigh. Of course. No fucking water. Red light, no water. This really is hell. He turned around and slid down the cabinets, defeated for the moment.
What the fuck is that? Is that a water bottle? He secured the bottle and poked a hole in it with the still protruding claw. I bet there's more of these in the fridge. Can't let the science-fuckers get thirsty. I'mma find em. Every one of them. And when I do…
Thoughts of vengeance were his lullabies for the next days as he rehydrated his body and worked on being able to stand upright. He was mildly disappointed when he discovered the bloating corpses littering the facility, but he was able to to work through some of his anger by using them as target practice for the inevitable results of rehydration.
Thanks for the duds, fucker. Hope you like piss in your face. Nice hair, you evil sonuvabitch. Looks much nicer now that you're dead and covered in piss. I hope you felt that all the way from hell, you piece of shit. I'm fuckin outta here. Enjoy your eternity of rotting.