The masked man closed the door of the room he had just entered, exhaustion carved into his face even though most of it was hidden.
The moment he stepped inside, he turned, sat on the edge of the metal bed, and began removing the bandages from his hand with steady movements.
With every strip he peeled away, his hand shook violently.
What appeared beneath the bandages was not something that could be described easily. His skin was eroded at the edges, a rotten black color spreading further, and the flesh had pulled back so much that part of the hard bone underneath was exposed.
The hand looked like it belonged to a corpse walking on two legs, not to someone alive.
He then pulled out a small bottle filled with a strange green liquid from his bag. He opened it quickly and poured all of it over his hand without hesitation.
