screwloose

Stein's wing of the dungeon he used to share with Birkin had become, if anything, darker and more terrifying since Birkin left. The lower floors were thick with shadows that were creepy, stitched monstrosities or tottering, jittering clockwork robots. The walls crawled with cracked mirrors and stitching, and were marked at intervals by terrifying three-eyed faces with wide, snaggle-toothed mouths. Yet arrows pointed the way accurately from the entrance of each level to the next elevator that would take Birkin and Adachi to the next floor - almost as if Stein wanted them to penetrate to the centre of his laboratory.

( Cut for disturbing imagery )