The lab is as run down as the rest of the building- the ceiling light flickers annoyingly as Jake and Jonathan walk in. Battered desks line one wall, covered in manilla folders with post-its all over them. Old glass lab gear is stacked in the sink, stained odd colours with mysterious chemicals that could really be anything. A fume hood whirrs away in one wall. It looks about fifty years old.
A battered mass spectrometer sits next to a fridge full of catalogued samples, and a bagel. The door's hanging open, and the light spills out over filthy tiles.
The lab tech is dozing on his desk, his printer shooting pages of paper down onto the floor next to him. His coffee has gone cold hours before.
Something's boiling in a beaker, beneath the fume hood. From the black smoke, it probably shouldn't be.