Facing forward, he was face-to-face with the root-covered metal door. His curiosity was piqued as he could see a glimpse of the engravings etched into the door; pushing the overgrowth aside, the symbol etched into the mighty dore was that of a bull's face, with horns protruding from its head.
"Sorta creepy," he muttered.
The horns sticking out from the bull's head acted as the handles for the sturdy door, allowing him to grip onto the cold, rough steel.
Here goes, he thought, please don't blow up right in my face as I open you!
"Open Sesame…!" He exuded through his gritting teeth.
It was heavy, but he began to push open the dense, broad doors slowly as a wave of stagnant dust fell against his face. The doors roared from their interrupted slumber as they were parted; he pushed as the bottoms of his boots slid across the flooring below.
