Try to sneak into The Flesh Artist's work area.

You stand outside the ominous work studios of The Flesh Artist, heart pounding in your chest as you contemplate breaking in to search for clues. The chilly night air sends shivers down your spine, but determination fuels your actions. With a deep breath, you pick the lock and carefully slip inside, the dimly lit corridors echoing with the sounds of your footsteps.

As you creep through the darkened hallways, searching for any sign of the artist's secrets, a sudden click beneath your foot freezes you in place. Before you can react, a trap door opens beneath you, plunging you into a narrow shaft that seems to stretch endlessly into the darkness below. Panic grips your heart as you plummet towards the awaiting spike, a sickening realization dawning on you.

The sharp spike pierces through your body with a sickening squelch, impaling you between the legs and up through your torso and throat, your own scream of agony muffled by the ghastly wound, the spike exiting your mouth. The pain is excruciating, unbearable as you feel your lifeblood drain out of you in a torrent of crimson. You gaze up towards the distant moon, now a cruel witness to your gruesome fate, as the world around you fades to black.

Your mind reels in shock and horror as you hang suspended on the deadly spike, every breath a struggle as darkness creeps into the edges of your vision. You try to gasp for air, but find it increasingly difficult as your body weakens with each passing moment. The sting of betrayal and the sharp agony between your legs serve as a stark reminder of the unforgiving fate that has befallen you in this twisted labyrinth of ****.

**** and helpless, you cling to the last vestiges of consciousness, a futile attempt to fight against the inevitable. The metallic taste of blood fills your mouth, the coppery tang overwhelming your senses as you feel the cold grip of **** tightening its hold on you. In a final, fleeting moment of awareness, you offer a silent prayer for deliverance, a plea for mercy that remains unanswered as the darkness claims you wholly.

And as the world fades into oblivion, your broken form remains suspended on the spike, a macabre spectacle of suffering and tragedy. The moon watches on, indifferent to your plight, casting an eerie glow upon your lifeless body as the last drops of blood trickle down the spike. In ****'s embrace, you find no solace, only the echoing screams of the damned reverberating in the empty corridors of the forsaken studios.