T-083: Donnie McTavish

A faint whirring sound came from the doors before they slide into their cavities, hissing as forcibly slowed into their place; the laboratory must have been fairly new - or perhaps had gone unused for a couple of a years - because usually the self-important scientist types that frequented Cynic’s various bases would defile a loved one’s ashes if it meant achieving a perfectly quiet and stable work environment. Donnie swallowed back a laugh, and let out a sma...