Lalo and Steven rushed up the narrow, creaking metal stairs that led to the elevated area overlooking the massive industrial room. The oppressive atmosphere clung to Steven, his heart still racing and his hair standing up from the realization that the door behind them had opened on its own. Every step felt heavy, as if the very air in the facility was thickening around them, pulling them down into the depths of the massive square pit .
Their steps clanked on the metal steps, as they ascended to the lookout balcony with the railing as soon as possible to secure vision on all access points.
Once they reached the top of the platform, Lalo stopped and turned to Steven, his breath heavy and his voice slightly shaking. "You stay out here as a lookout to warn me, I'm gonna look for more scrap around here," he said, his voice sounding static-like due to the suits comms. He walked away for a bit and turned around to see Steven staring at him. He pointed towards the area they came from and, loudly, said "You! keep watch."
Steven nodded, trying to steady his breathing. His eyes darted around the room. The conveyor belt loomed over the center of the pit, suspended by rusted scaffolding towards where Lalo was going. It looked as if it could collapse at any moment, but Steven knew better than that.
His visor's HUD displayed the massive structure in clean, green lines when he scanned his surroundings, but the reality of it felt more chaotic, more uncertain with the rusty area and the rotten wood. Lalo sifted through the debris on the platform and went towards the conveyor belt to inspect it.
Steven kept his back to the wall, scanning the room. Fear and paranoia gripped his mind. Every shadow felt alive, every flicker of light seemed to move with purpose. His ears strained to catch any sound out of place. The shadows were out to get him! No, it wasn't the shadows, it was the shadow people, waiting for him to slip up, to blink and he would be got! The silence was unsettling—too quiet for a place like this. Then... he heard it.
*Sreeekh*
A faint, scraping sound. Metal against metal. Distant but unmistakable. Steven froze, his blood turning to ice as his heart skipped a beat. He whipped his head toward the sound, but there was nothing—just the maze of rusted pipes and decaying machinery below, through the door. His fingers twitched toward his side, where a weapon should have been if they were allowed any. But the company's rules left them defenseless, save for their suits and wits.
He strained to listen again, his breath shallow. Was it his imagination? Was it just a creak of the facility? Simply rusted metal? Or was something else here, moving in the shadows? He didn't know and he must!
"Steven."
The sudden voice in his ear made him jump, nearly sending him stumbling into the railing keeping him safe from the square pit. He whipped around to see Lalo standing there, his broad figure framed against the conveyor machinery.
Lalo raised an eyebrow inside his helmet, but Steven couldn't tell anything over the visor. "You okay?"
Steven let out a shaky breath. "Yeah, yeah. I just—thought I heard something."
Lalo shrugged, clearly unbothered. "Probably just the place falling apart." He held up a large metal axle, heavy and rusted but intact. "Found this. Seven kilos, 45 units. Problem is, it's too big to fit in the backpack. It'll have to be carried by hand and I don't know about you, but I wouldn't want to be the one to keep lugging this thing around!"
Steven glanced at the axle, which was massive, a two-handed piece of scrap that would slow them down if they had to move quickly. Lalo, ever the pragmatist, looked at Steven and then toward the path back to the ship.
"You stay here and keep looking for more scrap," Lalo said, hoisting the axle onto his shoulder. "I'll take what we found and store it back at the ship. That's 25 kilos altogether—113 units. Should be a long journey, but we will make it. You go find Sigurt and Doug or do whatever you need to and find us more scrap."
Steven hesitated, looking around the room again. "Are you sure? There's still scrap in the conveyor area, but going there alone—especially after what happened with that door—doesn't sound like a great idea."
Lalo nodded. "Yeah, I get it. Just stay sharp, alright? I'll be back, eventually."
With that, Lalo hefted the axle and the other scrap they'd collected, his heavy steps echoing as he descended the stairs and made his way back toward the ship. Steven watched him go, feeling a strange sense of unease settle into his bones. Alone now, the room felt even more oppressive.
After a moment, Steven took a deep breath and turned to the north side of the facility, where Sigurt and Doug had gone earlier. He needed to tell them about the abundance of items they'd found in the storage area. Maybe they could collect the rest of the scrap and leave this place faster than planned. The thought of staying longer wasn't appealing, not with the strange noises he kept hearing.
The path ahead led him through a series of narrow corridors, the walls made of old brick and pipes that crisscrossed above and below him. The maze-like layout was disorienting, but he kept his hand on the right wall, following it as a guide. The beeping of his radar pulsed softly in his earpiece, but the readings were faint, as if the scrap was hidden deeper within the facility and he was no closer to getting it.
As he walked, his steps echoed unnervingly in the narrow space. Every few minutes, he heard strange mechanical groans and the faint beeping from his radar, but no sign of Doug or Sigurt.
*Psssshh*
Then, without warning, a valve burst directly above him, the sound like a gunshot in the enclosed space. A hiss of steam exploded into the corridor, clouding his visor and sending Steven stumbling backward in panic. His heart raced as he wiped the condensation off the front of his visir, but the steam was thick, obscuring everything around him. His suit, luckily, equiped to not transfer outside heat as much.
"Dammit!" Steven muttered, wiping furiously at his mask. The way he had come was now completely blocked by the thick cloud of steam, and he felt disoriented, unsure of which direction led where. The claustrophobia of the situation pressed down on him, and his panic began to rise.
He tried to calm himself, taking slow, deep breaths. He needed to keep moving forward. Sigurt and Doug had to be ahead somewhere. The facility wasn't that big, was it?
As Steven stepped forward cautiously, his visor cleared slightly, and he wiped it clean again, the path ahead still blurry but more visible. He could feel his pulse pounding in his ears as he tried to focus, tried to remember the layout from what little he had seen.
Just then, a cold sensation crawled up his spine—a feeling that something, or someone, was behind him. He froze in place, his breath catching in his throat. Slowly, he turned his head, dread filling his chest.
A hand grabbed his shoulder.
Steven's heart stopped, his mind flashing with terror as his body went rigid. The grip was firm but not aggressive. He knew that touch—he knew it wasn't a creature. But the fear didn't let go of him so easily.
"Steven—"
The voice was familiar. But before he could react, before his body could calm itself from the shock, the scene faded into silence, leaving him hanging on the precipice of dread and relief, as the hand, for seemingly no reason, increased its grip strength and pulled him towards it.