Yoru took the elevator down. The iron door was heavy as if it had been filled with lead, and when he pushed it open, the hinges let out a long, piercing creeeak that made his teeth ache.
The stench of rotting leaves mixed with the pungent reek of formaldehyde hit him in the face like a slap.
Yoru frowned sharply and rubbed beneath his nose hard with his thumb twice.
"What the hell is that smell? Orochimaru, are you cooking shit down here?"
With disgust, he spat onto the iron floor, which was covered in motor oil stains.
The underground ventilation fan made a broken, rumbling sound, utterly incapable of drawing away the thick, eye-stinging sour stench.
Orochimaru was crouched in front of a humming centrifuge.
His white lab coat was filthy beyond recognition, blotched with yellowish-brown chemical stains here and black motor oil marks there.
Hearing the noise, he abruptly turned around.
His golden snake eyes were bloodshot from staying up all night, making him look like a gambler who had lost everything.
"Lord Yoru! You came at just the right time!"
Orochimaru's voice had cracked, dry and hoarse as sandpaper.
He clutched a glass beaker containing half a cup of sickly green viscous fluid.
He stood in a puddle of filthy water that might have been condensation or White Zetsu bodily fluid. It squelched beneath his feet as he walked over.
"This is... cough, cough... a bumper harvest!"
He extended his long tongue and forcefully licked a circle around his chapped, peeling lips.
A trace of white powder stuck to the tip of his tongue curled into his mouth, and he did not even frown.
With both hands in his trench coat pockets, Yoru took half a step back in disgust.
"Don't get too close. Your stink could