There was little about Rebecca Simmons' warehouse that inspired hope. The place from where the good Doctor spread her tendrils of drugs and torture and melted away the organic evidence, this was a place that ghosts would scream from. To the casual observer, to the humane? The Doctor was a monster, hidden away behind a magically-locked smile.
In the back, the vats were bubbling, and an organic smell of melting flesh and lye slowly wafted around the room before being picked up by fume hoods and anti-smell systems for the laboratory. Traces of blood were still on the gurneys where the Doctor did her gory work, even if the corpses were gone.
People weren't meant to see this. Or smell it. Roughly shoved down onto a chair and bound to it, Vinnie Bruni was trapped amidst it. Blindfolded, the mobster, Vinnie, sniffed twice and started to cry. Even unable to see, the smell told him what kind of place this was. A bad place. A place people went to disappear.
Would the Dona of the Mafia be disappearing him, tonight?