You enter the gas station. The room you enter is roughly 12x10 meters (40x33 ft).
The inside of the gas station is a mess. Exactly like you would have expected from the little you saw from outside.
Immediately to the right, along the long wall, there is a narrow table attached to the wall just below the broken windows. The years of being exposed to all kinds of weather have destroyed significant portions of it. Regardless of how well it was processed when it was built, you would not want to lean on it now, or place anything heavy on it. Either the plate would crack or the holds that keep it attached would fail. The bar chairs that once upon a time were placed right by the table for eating customers were either gone, or broken and scattered around the room.
On the short wall to the right, there are three built-in table and sofa groups. The red artificial leather that once covered the sofas, was now torn and slimy of the humidity. Years of mold and discoloration where now what sat there instead of happy and tired travellers. The tables were in equally poor shape as the one along the long wall next to them.
There is an open, broken door in the back right corner.
The long back wall is hidden behind useless, rusty refrigerator shelves with broken doors. The shelves themselves are empty as expected, some of them are in place, but most of them have fallen or are gone.
The space in the middle is a mess of toppled dry-ware shelves, pieces of glass, rotten wood, all kinds of materials that have been mangled unrecognizable by time and nature. To the left, right by the door is an ice-cream chest, rusty, broken and the glass shattered. It is filled to the brim with nasty, reddish brown water.
On the left, a rusty metal counter for receiving customers runs along the full length of the room. Cashier’s machines are gone, surprisingly the glass shelf in the middle of the counter where pastries used to be is somehow intact. It is held together by a loyal rusty metal frame. Close to the end where the entrance is, by the ice-cream chest, there is a swinging gate that the staff used to pass through long ago. Behind the counter, there is a row of tables and industrial kitchen machinery for preparing fast food, stoves, grills, ovens and microwaves. In the middle there is an opening with a view into the kitchen and offices. A doorway to the space is in the rear left corner next to a softie machine.
The red and white concrete walls are discoloured, cracked, dirty and covered by mould and various kinds of damage from humidity. The lights and ventilation systems are still in place, but rusty and useless. They have been that way for a long time. The floor is completely wet. The inside is not flooded, but there is a stench of humidity and decay.
A crash, rattle and a bang briefly echoes in the room as the stems hit the swing gate. The power of the impact breaks the hinges and the metal plate goes flying. It swings open smashing against the counter and detaching from it. Then it continues and smashes against the metallic table structure behind the counter, that is open from below. The detached door sends all kinds of metallic kitchen ware flying, pots and pans, scattering them around the floor behind the counter.
As the door swings open from the impact, you can see briefly a cat-like figure that now shoots further into the building, staying behind the counter. All you could see was that it was about knee height of an adult man and the fur was a mixture of sickening white/gray/washed-out yellow with small black dots.
Once the noise and chaos from the destroyed gate settles, you can hear sounds from the kitchen through the opening in the left side wall. You hear sounds of paws stepping around frantically and a body smashing against metallic structures. The noises disappear quickly as the cause of them apparently stops moving.