Who's Behind it All - Team Recipe for Disaster

      Ruin announced his arrival to the Truth Seekers office by roughly pushing the door open, causing a lul in the bustling activity within. He let out a short growl as he lumbered in on all fours, heavily limping on his left arm that was wrapped in bandages from his bicep to around his shoulder. In his maw he carried a cloth satchel, his eyes hard as he paused and looked around the room. His tails woven into one thick appendage that swung softly from side to side, sending a gentle scrape of his bladed tailtip drifting through the air. He looked rough, and his eyes looked sunken, what trouble had this massive work stock seen out in the wasteland? 

     One of the overseers looked up from their data pad with a small start, their fur fluffing up as a large snout was suddenly in his line of sight, obscuring most of the room in front of the smaller Phuzo.

"a...ah....can I help you?" he stammered, his thin tail wrapping around one of his paws lightly as if anchoring him to the ground in order to bear the weight of the giant Phuzo's intense gaze. After a few minutes of silent staring, it didn't take the overseer long to pull up the expedition license's and find Ruin's ID tag among them, his ears flicking back as he glanced at the...wet sack held in the Phuzo's jaw. Whatever he had found as 'Evidence' had a smell that set the overseers fur on end. 

      As Ruin watched the overseer wrestle with his constitution, the large Work stock sat up onto his haunches, plucking the satchel from his maw and unceremoniously dropping it onto the desk before the smaller man. Without a word, 073 opened the bag and dumped the contents across the workspace, allowing a few snapped bones to rattle onto the table with a wet squelch. The stench of rotten flesh began to permeate the air like a thick miasma, as a puddle of ooze congealed across the papers on the desk. A thin strand of goo tethered itself to the bag as Ruin dropped it next to the macabre bone scraps.  He stared down at the damned things and let out another soft growl, his thick lip curling over obsidian teeth before looking back toward the now nauseated Overseer.

"Coordinates emailed to your pad. Do not enter the ice caves. We sealed part of it off with explosives as we ran for our lives. Do not listen to the pleading from within. It is not Phuzomede. Your senses will betray you." Ruin barked gruffly, before abruptly turning to leave the office. He didn't bother waiting for a response from anyone, as the silence drew on. Nobody knew what to say anyways, as all eyes stared over at the grotesque items left in Ruins wake.

After a moment, a soft chime shattered the silence as a notification appeared on several data pads throughout the office. Indeed, there seemed to be coordinates and geographical information on a section of Location C, with comments left by the rest of team Recipe for Disaster. Surely an amusing moniker at first, now a grim self fulfilled prophecy it seems.