"That's the thing," Asher continued, his voice lower. "I did some digging. That building's been abandoned for years. No one's supposed to be there."
Moros's mind raced as old memories of the warehouse flooded back—days of daring each other to explore its dark corners, the ghost stories they'd made up about the place. His curiosity was piqued, but there was something deeper, a sense of unease creeping in.
"Asher… what do you think is going on?"
"I don't know, man," Asher said, sounding serious now. "But something's off. I thought maybe we could check it out together. I could use your help with this."
Moros glanced back at his desk, his gaming setup, and the fun, carefree world he'd just left behind for the night. Now, something real, something unsettling, was creeping into his life.
"Alright," Moros said, his voice steady. "I'm in. Let's check it out."
The fun and games were over—for now.
--------
The next day, Moros found himself standing outside the old warehouse with Asher, staring up at the dilapidated building that had been the backdrop for so many childhood adventures.
"Man, I forgot how sketchy this place looked," Moros said, squinting at a window that had been shattered, probably decades ago. "I swear, if we find a raccoon running a drug cartel in there, I'm out."
Asher chuckled but kept his eyes on the building. "You sure you're ready for this? You've been, uh, living in streamer world for a while. Might be a bit too real for you."
"Hey, I'm not just some gamer. I'm a—uh, multi-talented, diverse individual with a... broad skill set. Besides, I've seen worse places in video games. Like, in 'Dungeon Fiends 3,' the dungeon boss literally vomits spiders."
"Yeah, I'm sure that's exactly the same as dealing with a potentially haunted warehouse," Asher said, rolling his eyes. He led the way around the back, where the fence was sagging, barely held together by the sheer force of gravity and good intentions.
Asher pulled out a pair of bolt cutters, and Moros blinked in surprise. "Whoa, wait a second. Are we... are we breaking in?"
Asher gave him a deadpan look. "Would it be the first time?"
"Fair point," Moros conceded. "But this time, we're not ten, and there's no 'Sorry, officer, I didn't know any better' excuse if we get caught. Now it's more like, 'Sorry, officer, I'm just dumb.'"
With a quick snap of the cutters, the padlock fell to the ground. Asher pushed the fence aside, motioning for Moros to follow him. "Relax, bro. It's abandoned, no one's gonna care."
"Except for the ghosts," Moros muttered, ducking through the fence. "The ghosts definitely care."
They crept toward the warehouse's back door, the concrete beneath their feet cracked and overgrown with weeds. Moros couldn't help but feel like they were two amateur detectives in a really bad buddy cop movie. Only instead of solving crimes, they were probably just trespassing for no reason.
Asher pushed open the rusty door, and it creaked loudly, echoing in the empty space beyond.
Moros winced. "Subtle. Really subtle."
The inside of the warehouse was just as they remembered: dusty, full of old wooden crates, and overwhelmingly creepy. Shadows played tricks on Moros's mind as they ventured further in, their footsteps kicking up clouds of dust. Asher took out a flashlight and started scanning the area.
"Do you hear that?" Moros whispered, trying not to spook himself.
"Hear what?" Asher stopped and listened.
"That... sound. It's like... buzzing?"
They both froze for a moment, straining to hear. And then, faintly, there it was—a soft, rhythmic buzz.
"Oh no, man," Moros whispered. "I swear, if it's bees, I'm out. Bees are my kryptonite."
"It's not bees," Asher said, though he didn't sound entirely confident. They followed the sound through the maze of crates until they reached the far side of the warehouse.
And there, tucked behind a large stack of wooden pallets, was something Moros never would've expected.
"What the actual—" Moros blinked.
It was a Roomba.
A tiny, slightly banged-up Roomba, methodically bumping into crates and spinning in circles, clearly lost and confused about its purpose in life.
Asher stared at it for a second, then looked at Moros. "I... don't have an explanation for this."
"I mean, what—" Moros bent down, inspecting the little robot. "Who leaves a Roomba in an abandoned warehouse? It's like someone's trying to keep this place clean, but only half-heartedly."
They watched as the Roomba valiantly attempted to climb a wooden crate, failing miserably.
"Maybe it's haunted by the ghost of a really meticulous janitor?" Moros suggested, trying not to laugh.
Asher sighed. "Well, that's one mystery solved. Now we just need to figure out why there were lights on in this place the other night."
Moros glanced back at the Roomba, which had now decided to spin in circles again. "Or we could just take this little guy home, make him our team mascot. He's clearly seen things. He's got the experience."
"Focus, Moros," Asher said, though he was clearly trying to stifle a grin. "Come on, let's check the upper levels. Maybe the real weird stuff is up there."
As they made their way up the rickety staircase, Moros couldn't help but glance back at the Roomba one last time.
"You stay strong, little guy. We'll get you out of here."
And with that, the two brothers ventured further into the unknown, ready—or not—to uncover whatever bizarre secrets the warehouse held. If anything, at least they'd gained one thing from this adventure: a robotic companion with a questionable sense of direction.
As Moros and Asher climbed the creaking staircase, every step echoed through the warehouse like the ominous soundtrack to a low-budget horror movie. The dust in the air caught the beams of Asher's flashlight, swirling like tiny phantoms before disappearing into the shadows.
"You know," Moros began, his voice barely above a whisper, "if something jumps out at us, I'm not going to try to be the brave one. I'll just scream and hope my lungs scare it away."
Asher smirked, keeping his eyes on the stairs ahead. "Good to know. I'll keep that in mind when I'm trying to explain to Dad why you passed out from fear."
"Don't joke. This place could be crawling with... things," Moros said, nervously glancing over his shoulder. "Like rats. Or worse. Big rats."
"You mean raccoons?" Asher offered, shaking his head. "You've got a vivid imagination, man."
"Hey, I'd take raccoons over giant mutant rats any day." Moros shuddered. "At least raccoons have that cute burglar look going for them. Rats are just pure nightmare fuel."
Asher reached the top of the stairs and turned his flashlight toward the second floor. It was just as rundown as the first, if not worse. The wooden beams overhead sagged, and piles of debris were scattered around like abandoned hopes and dreams. Moros stepped gingerly onto the creaky floor, testing each step as if the planks might give way beneath him.
"How is this place still standing?" he asked. "Feels like one strong gust of wind would take it down."
"It's been here for decades," Asher replied, moving the beam of light across the room. "And it's seen worse storms than us. Trust me, it'll hold."
Moros wasn't so sure, but he kept moving, staying close behind his brother. They made their way across the upper level, the floor groaning under their weight. The buzzing noise from earlier had faded, but the air felt charged, like something was waiting just out of sight.
Suddenly, Asher stopped in his tracks, causing Moros to nearly crash into him.
"Whoa, what is that?" Asher pointed toward a corner of the room.
Moros squinted, trying to make out the shape in the dim light. It looked like an old desk, but something about it seemed off. As they moved closer, Moros realized why. The desk wasn't empty. Resting on top of it was a strange, jagged object—part crystal, part metal, and definitely not something you'd expect to find in a dusty old warehouse.
"Okay, that's new," Moros muttered, taking a cautious step forward. "What do you think it is? Some kind of... alien artifact?"
Asher gave him a skeptical look. "Or it's just a weird piece of junk someone left behind. But... it does look kind of cool." He reached out to touch it.
"Wait, wait, wait!" Moros jumped back. "We don't know what that is! What if it's cursed? Or worse—what if it's an ancient interdimensional portal, and touching it opens a gateway to a world of tentacled monsters?"
Asher raised an eyebrow. "A gateway to a world of tentacled monsters?"
"Hey, weirder things have happened in video games!" Moros defended. "And books! Remember House of Eldritch Nightmares? That's how it started. Someone touched a weird artifact, and boom! Eldritch horrors everywhere."
Asher sighed but lowered his hand. "Alright, fine. No touching the mysterious object. Happy?"
"Immensely," Moros replied, exhaling a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Let's just... take a picture or something. You know, for science."
Asher took out his phone and snapped a photo. The flash briefly lit up the room, casting long shadows across the walls.