Dense fog enshrouded the hospital, drifting visibly through the dim security lighting of the lobby; fluorescent blue bulbs that flickered every few seconds. Christophe idled quietly outside the place, the blue lighting contrasting the sharp curves of his body against the nothingness behind him. The hospital itself was obscured by condensed woodland, only one road leading outbound to society. The place is extremely quiet for a hospital, more so because a storm had just passed through, leaving the area humid and vacant.

Christophe puffed away at a cigarette, his expression blank. Every so often he would glance over at the hospital entrance: Rotating doors that were currently under construction. They are wrapped up in yellow caution tape, wielding an orange sign, soggy from the rain, which stated where to go as a detour.

The sound of approaching tires pulls Christophe from his trance. Adolphe pulls over to him, parking at his side, "She is on the ambulance and ready to go-"

Christophe interrupts Adolphe, aggressively shaking his hood with a growl, "She? She is no longer here. I prefer you say 'it', or 'the body'. Hell, why not the 'rotting corpse'?" He flings his cigarette at the ground, squishing it violently with a front wheel.

Adolphe's eyes widen, caught off guard by Christophe's nasty reaction, "O-okay, sir. I will keep that in mind."

Christophe turns away, tail lights fading into the fog as he rolls onto the single dirt road where the ambulance is sitting and waiting for them. She dips her hood to Christophe, "The morgue with no path, correct?"

Christophe nods and takes the lead, Adolphe bringing up the rear.

The morgue is only a few miles deep into the woods, but the silence between all of the vehicles made the drive seem so much longer, not to mention it had begun to drizzle again. The fog became so dense that Adolphe had to turn his high beams on. Soon, the never-ending trees begin to disperse and a building comes into view. Adolphe's brake lights come on, feeling more heat waft up from his grille and over his hood.

The place didn't seem habitable at all. Its boarded up windows, missing bricks and weathered foundation make it look like it's straight out of a horror movie. There are two metal doors at the front, with no windows and a large padlock around both handles. The doors are only big enough for one car to fit through at a time.

Adolphe gulps, "I-it looks abandoned."

"Of course it does," Christophe scoffs. "Did you think they were going to come and greet us with rainbow flowers and cocoa?"

"W-well, no, but-"

Christophe cuts Adolphe off again, "Get the body off of the ambulance while I open the morgue door."

The intern does as he is told, and the ambulance leaves once the stretcher is pulled from her box, unable to fit through the entrance doors even if she wanted to. Christophe removes the padlock and turns off his headlights, quickly rolling forward into the darkness of the morgue.

Adolphe jumps back, calling out, "Now, why would you turn off your lights?"

There is no response.

Adolphe freezes beside the stretcher, his breathing becoming heavy. He looks after where Christophe had disappeared, shining his headlights inside. The hallway ahead is narrow, meant for only one car to be able to drive down. There are two rooms a few meters ahead, positioned across from each other. Beyond the rooms is unknown. The silence becomes loud, pricking at Adolphe's nerves, and the rain falls harder. He finally decides to slowly push the stretcher inside.

The smell of rust and decaying flesh instantly hits his grille. Adolphe gags on it, bringing a wheel up to cover his mouth. He feels tears swelling up, burning at his eyes.

"C-Chris?" he mutters, muffled behind his own wheel, rpm's racing, "T-this isn't funny. Quit messing with me."

He still gets no response, and so he slowly continues forward, eyes wide and on his obscure surroundings. Suddenly he hears tires rolling up behind him. He goes to turn toward the noise, but instead finds himself slamming against the concrete floor, a jolt of pain stinging at his roof and surging through his entire frame. The hit renders his vision blurry, only able to focus on a small source of light on the floor in front of him: his cell phone. It must have dropped from his wheel well during the fall. He reaches out for it only for his wheel to be stepped on by another. A grisly, unknown voice erupts at his side, "Oh, no. You're too sick to make a phone call."

It was the last thing he heard before taking another blow to the roof. Then there was nothing but blackness.

Adolphe's eyes flicker open, a bright white light shining right in his eyes. He blindly whimpers and tries to move his wheels, but they won't budge. He feels a flat, metal surface underneath his undercarriage, like an operating table. It goes silent all except the quiet buzzing of the light bulb in his face. He squints at it, panting hoarsely, "C-Chris!"

There is the squeaky sound of a door opening up behind him and a set of tires rolling over broken glass and tiles. Adolphe freezes, lowering his voice, "C-Chris?"

A voice did answer, but it didn't sound familiar. It sounds like it's reading off of a paper, "Adolphe Rousseau. Four-door male; White paint."

"Un-strap me, p-please," Adolphe begs, "H-how do you know my name?" He feels sweat droplets form at the back of his side-view mirrors.

The voice ignores his plea, continuing to read, "He's suffered severe damage to the brain. Death upon the strike."

"Hello?" Adolphe retorts. He tries to focus on the man, but the light in his eyes continues to obstruct his vision.

There is the sound of something large being set down on a counter, and it was then that Adolphe realizes the stranger wasn't talking directly to him. The realization throws him into sudden panic, "No! No! I am alive! Can't you see that? The autopsy is to be done on the woman we brought! Not me!"

There is no response from the stranger; only the fiddling of tools at Adolphe's side. He suddenly feels the man's wheel touch his roof and he jolts in terror, "DON'T YOU TOUCH ME! The woman is on the stretcher! You're to do work on her!"

"A shame," utters the voice as it continues to ignore Adolphe's cries. There is the soft sound of pen to paper before it speaks again, "A beautiful man you left behind."

Adolphe freezes when he hears the familiar remark. In desperation he attempts to start his engine, but there is no spark. He gasps in disbelief. Never has he been unable to start before, "HELP! HELP ME!" His heart beats wildly at the center of his undercarriage, his entire body throbbing with its excruciating thumps.

The voice gets closer to him; the most simple of utters shooting tremors throughout Adolphe's metal, "Now to see what exactly happened to you."

Adolphe's shrieking is drowned out by the agonizing drone of an electric saw. His heartbeat gets faster, its pace so severe that he can feel it throbbing at the back of his mirrors, tugging at his sanity. He tries to start his engine again. There's still no spark. The stranger presses the saw to Adolphe's roof, and the buzz struggles as it begins to rip into his metal. Adolphe screeches in agony when he feels the blade hit his flesh underneath, his shrieks foiling into hoarse squealing as it continues to cut deeper. Then it goes silent. He hears nothing but himself breathing, struggling to stay alive; feeling nothing but the excruciating pain at the top of his roof; how hot it was up there.

Then he feels cold enter his wound. He snivels weakly, tears forming at the corners of his windshield, dripping down his fenders. There is some prodding at the wound before he feels his metal being ripped back, exposing more of the flesh. He grits his teeth and pants, long past the pain and into the numb, "H-help…"

The light in front of him begins to turn a vibrant red, his own blood dripping down his face and staining his vision. He blinks, mouth hanging open, throat arid from the screaming. He feels more metal being ripped away, and he tries focusing on his heartbeat instead, how it palpitates and then steadies itself. He stares at that bright light as if it were his guardian angel, watching it as it begins to fade slowly, his pain dissipating. Soon all he can hear is his heartbeat, and that too soon fades out into silence.