The wall of steel and bakelite was a monument to a forgotten era of engineering. It was a chaotic symphony of gauges with trembling needles, faded Bakelite knobs, and rows upon rows of heavy-duty breaker switches, each one a thick, satisfying lever. There were hundreds of them, organized into sections with stenciled labels: "HVAC," "Elevator Banks A-D," "Perimeter Lighting."
Leo, who had once been responsible for resetting a tripped breaker in a server room, felt a familiar sense of dread. This was a system so complex that one wrong move could plunge the entire tower into darkness—or worse.
But Evelyn wasn't intimidated. She was in her element. Her fear seemed to recede, replaced by a focused, analytical intensity. This was a system. And systems, no matter how chaotic they seemed, had rules.
"Okay," she said, her voice crisp and business-like. She ran her hand along the grimy panel, her fingers tracing the thick, insulated cables that snaked out from behind it. "The architect of this building was a paranoid ex-military engineer from the Cold War. Everything is redundant. Everything is compartmentalized."
"So, look for the 'Security' section?" Leo asked, stating the obvious.
"Too simple," she countered, tapping a row of switches under that very label. "This is for the cameras, the motion sensors. Basic stuff. Code Omega lockdown would be on its own circuit. Something with a high power-draw, designed to hold against a direct assault." She pointed to a large, angry-looking gauge near the bottom of the panel. Its needle was buried deep in the red. "Like that."
Leo followed her finger. The gauge was part of a self-contained unit, separated from the others by thick yellow warning lines. The label above it was nearly worn off, but Leo's high Wisdom allowed him to make out the faint, flaking letters: C O N T A I N M E N T.
Below the gauge were three massive, ominous levers, each encased in its own protective cage that had to be lifted before the switch could be thrown. Their labels were clearer. SUB-LEVEL P-3, SUB-LEVEL P-4, and LOBBY & EXEC.
"This is it," Evelyn breathed. "Containment protocols for the lower parking levels and the lobby. He must have had high-value assets or… prisoners down there."
"The switch for the security office should be the one labeled 'Lobby & Exec'," Leo deduced. It seemed logical.
"Wait," he said, his own enhanced perception kicking in. He noticed something Evelyn, with her focus on the big picture, had missed. Next to the main panel was a small, forgotten metal desk. On it, covered in a thick layer of dust, was a clipboard holding a yellowed maintenance log. The last entry was dated over a year ago.
He picked it up, blowing a cloud of dust from the page. Most of it was illegible maintenance jargon, but one line, circled in red pen, stood out. Note to self: Mag-lock circuit for S.O. integrated w/ P-level containment grid to prevent electronic iso-breach. Full grid reset required for manual override. F***ing Carlisle.
"Carlisle was the paranoid engineer," Evelyn supplied. "So it's not one switch. To override the Security Office, we have to reset the entire lower-level containment grid."
"All three switches," Leo finished, his stomach twisting into a knot. They weren't just unlocking a door. They were throwing open the gates to whatever secrets OmniCorp kept locked away in the dark.
For a moment, they were silent, the weight of the decision pressing down on them. The low hum of the conduits seemed to grow louder, waiting.
"My sister," Leo said, his voice quiet but firm, breaking the silence. "The comms panel in that office is my only chance of finding out if she's alive. We're flipping them."
Evelyn gave a single, sharp nod. "Alright. On three."
They each took a position in front of a lever. Leo took the 'Lobby & Exec' switch. Evelyn took 'P-3'. Leo motioned with his head for her to take 'P-4' as well. She shook her head and pointed, indicating they had to be turned simultaneously. Leo sighed and moved to the central lever.
"One..." Leo said, his hand gripping the cold metal.
"Two..." Evelyn's voice was tight.
"Three!"
Together, they lifted the safety cages and threw the heavy switches down. The levers moved with a deep, grinding resistance, as if they were moving the tectonic plates of the building itself. For a heart-stopping second, nothing happened.
Then, with a deafening KA-CHUNK that vibrated through the catwalk and up their spines, the entire panel went dark. The humming of the conduits died. The weak orange lights above them flickered and went out, plunging them into absolute, terrifying blackness.
A moment later, the emergency backup power kicked in. The orange lights sputtered back to life, weaker than before. And from far away, echoing up from the depths of the parking garage, came a series of deep, resonant CLANGS. The sound of massive bolts retracting. The sound of very heavy doors sliding open.
They had done it.
"Did it work?" Evelyn asked, her voice shaky in the aftermath.
Before Leo could answer, a new sound reached them. It wasn't a clang. It came from the direction of the P-4 hatch, from the level directly below where the Shriekers had been celebrating their automotive victory.
It was a low, guttural growl. A sound of deep, resonant hunger from a throat the size of a barrel. It was a sound of something ancient and powerful waking from a long, unwanted slumber.
The frantic chittering of the Shriekers above stopped abruptly. There was a moment of panicked, leathery fluttering, and then silence. The little predators had either fled or been instantly annihilated. A new king had just claimed the food chain.
Thump.
The sound vibrated through the concrete.
Thump.
It was closer now. Heavy. Rhythmic. The sound of something immense walking.
"Leo," Evelyn whispered, her face ashen in the dim light. "What did we just let out?"
"I don't know," Leo said, his mind racing. "But we have to get back to the lobby before it does."
Their return journey was a frantic, desperate scramble. There was no time for the caution they had used on the way in. Leo practically threw their carapace-sled onto the conduit. They jumped on, Evelyn clinging to him as he used the guide rope to pull them across hand over hand, their sled scraping and bumping along the high-voltage line.
They crashed onto the far side, abandoned the sled, and ran along the swaying catwalk. Leo didn't bother trying to turn the wheel-lock on the hatch. He activated [Improvise Tool], grabbing a discarded piece of rebar. It morphed in his hands into a crude but effective crowbar. He jammed it into the hatch's seam and wrenched it open.
He scrambled through, pulling Evelyn after him, and peered into the P-4 parking level.
The shrieking car alarm had finally died. The garage was silent again, but it was a different kind of silence now. It was the heavy, expectant silence of a hunting ground. The Shriekers were gone.
He couldn't see the new creature. But he could see its work.
The red sports car that had served as their distraction was no longer just covered in dead bat-monsters. It looked like it had been stepped on. The roof was crushed, the frame bent into a U-shape, the metal torn open like wet paper. Whatever had done this possessed unimaginable strength.
They were on its turf now. The path back to the ground floor, the path they had so cleverly cleared, was now home to the very monster they had unleashed.