The door groaned as it swung open, revealing a massive industrial expanse that stretched out before Steven and Lalo. They stepped onto a small metal ledge, the vastness of the room swallowing them in its eerie silence. Below, a giant square pit dominated the center of the room, flanked by rusted walkways and crisscrossed with ancient scaffolding. A set of circular stairs spiraled down from the ledge they stood on, leading to the lower floor where the real work would begin.
On the far side of the room, Steven could see an elevated platform, likely designed for overseeing the machinery in its prime. A massive conveyor belt ran from the platform, suspended over the gaping pit, the scaffolding barely holding it in place after years of decay. There was something hauntingly beautiful about the scene—this once-thriving hub of industry now reduced to quiet rust and forgotten purpose. Yet the oppressive atmosphere made his stomach churn.
As they took in the sight, a series of beeps echoed through the room. Several, rapid, but neither of them had counted.
"What was that?" Steven asked, his voice low as he scanned the room for any movement.
Lalo shrugged, his visor glinting under the harsh overhead lights. "Doesn't matter," he said gruffly. "Get scrap, get a lot of it, get out. If there's enough here, we won't enter that unknown room... ever." His gaze darted toward the far end of the room, where a tiny door was tucked into the wall. It had been there from the start, but they hadn't paid it much mind.
Steven glanced at the door, now thinking about how he had suggested they check it out first. He realized the foolishness of that plan now. If there was a quota to fill, their focus needed to be on the scrap in front of them, not whatever unknowns lay behind the mysterious door.
He nodded. "You're right. Let's get to it."
The two descended the circular stairs, each step rattling beneath their boots. The clinking of metal echoed off the walls, adding to the unease that already simmered beneath Steven's skin. As they reached the lower floor, the scale of the room became even more apparent. The pit in the center seemed endless, a black void below them, and the elevated platform across the way felt like a fortress overseeing the industrial ruins.
Without hesitation, they moved toward the elevated area. Steven led the way, his eyes scanning the catwalks and scaffolding for anything valuable. The metal grated beneath their boots, every step making Steven feel like the structure might collapse under their weight. When they reached the raised platform, Steven noticed something to their left—an area filled with crates and shelves. It looked like a storage zone, its contents haphazardly scattered but largely intact.
Lalo, always alert, was already heading toward it. "That's our jackpot," he said with a grunt.
Steven followed and began sweeping the room-sized area with his radar, which hummed faintly in his helmet. Two blips appeared almost immediately, their proximity indicated by a small ding that filled his earpiece.
He approached one of the crates, his hands trembling slightly as he opened it. Inside, nestled between other pieces of scrap, was an old, unopened can of soda. Steven's brow furrowed. "Seriously?" he muttered, picking up the can. He wasn't expecting that. But scrap was scrap. The weight readout on his visor flashed: 3 kg.
Moving to the next blip, he spotted something larger—a heavy metal stop sign, its bright red paint faded but still intact. It had clearly seen better days, but it was solid and heavy. He hefted it into his hands, feeling the weight drag at his arms. The scanner blinked again: 10 kg.
With both items in hand, Steven scanned them for their quota values, and when the results popped up on his visor, his eyes nearly popped out of his head.
"The can's worth 30 units, and the sign is 25! Dang!" he exclaimed. "We almost have half of the quota filled in the first 30 minutes!"
Lalo glanced over, giving a nod of approval. "Good find, rookie." He reached out and took the can, slipping it into his backpack with practiced ease. Then, he carefully unmounted the stop sign from Steven's grip and slung it over his shoulder, strapping it down securely with some bungee cords from his pack. "Let's keep going. We might be out of here faster than I thought."
Steven grinned, feeling a rare surge of confidence. Maybe this wasn't going to be as bad as he thought.
Just as that thought crossed his mind, something shifted in the air. Lalo, who had been focused on securing the scrap, suddenly froze. His body stiffened, and his head snapped around, his visor fixating on something behind them.
"What is it?" Steven asked, his voice tense, immediately sensing the change in Lalo's posture.
Lalo didn't respond right away. His helmet tilted slightly as if he was replaying something in his mind. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter than Steven had ever heard it.
"Was that door open when we entered the room?"
Steven's blood ran cold. He turned, following Lalo's gaze toward the far end of the room, where the small, unassuming door they had decided to ignore earlier stood. It had been closed when they first entered. He was sure of it.
But now, it was open. A crack of darkness yawned from the doorway, like an open mouth waiting to swallow them whole.
Steven's heart pounded in his chest. He swallowed hard, trying to calm the rising panic that clawed at his throat. "I... I don't think it was."
Lalo's hand drifted toward the scrap on his back, instinctively readying himself. "Stay calm," he muttered, more to himself than to Steven. "We've got almost half the quota. Let's grab the rest and get out of here. Quickly."
The air around them felt thick, heavy with the weight of something unseen. Something was wrong.And whatever had opened that door wasn't going to wait forever.
"Move," Lalo said, his voice sharp now, and Steven followed without hesitation.
They still had a job to do, but the unknown had just become very real.