Post 5 - This thing is insisting on putting a 1 at the top - I'm having none of it.

The place smelled like stale beer and piss.
Great, I’d fit right in.
From a darkened corner, I heard movement, I swung the torch. It was just an old homeless guy nursing a bottle of strong wine.
“You gonna keep that all to yourself?” I asked as I removed it from his nicotine stained fingers. “I’m in need of some more Dutch courage, here.”
The stuff tasted like battery acid mixed with angel’s piss. Not a bad combo and a hell of a kick. I finished it and chucked the bottle back to the now passed out figure sprawled against the pitted plasterboard. It bounced and slithered to a stop between his urine soaked chinos.
Grabbing the torch with my teeth, I pulled my twin Smith & Wesson 45s. Anything coming my way was going to get lead poisoning real quick.
A scurrying sound drew me to the next room, fading as it disappeared down a raised trap door.
I holstered the left gun, burped loudly, drew it again and proceed in a somewhat sideways manner towards the rickety looking downward steps.
The light from the torch bobbed as I struggled to swallow spit. Perhaps I had not thought this through properly.
Halfway down the stairs, the beam steadied and something massive, all eyes and teeth and long, hairy legs moved into its wan light.