The kitchen countertops are dingy and stained. Cutting boards are scattered across the surfaces, gouged deeply by overly powerful blows from heavy knives and cleavers. The sink in one corner is stopped up, occasionally belching up some sort of black and red ichor and left to fester in a stinking puddle. As you bend to examine it, a pot hooked on the wall suddenly wrenches itself loose and smashes into the counter just next to you with stunning velocity.