"Gross!"

You cannot disguise the scowl of disgust that spreads across your face as you look around the room. You're standing in a dead man's fetish chamber, looking at the souvenirs of his depraved escapades. How utterly nauseating.

An Iron Maiden, for fuck's sake! No wonder Eve sustained such injuries!

Shaking your head, you turn to Mr. Baxter with a frown. "You're telling me that this isn't the worst of it?"

"I'm afraid not," the attorney answers with a long sigh. You swallow nervously, looking around you, and sigh.

"Alright, well shit. I guess we'd better get to it then."