Troy had never been more happy, seeing that the place had an elevator. If he had been forced to walk up and downstairs, with over twenty kilos worth of pungent food, he might just have gone back on his words. By that point, there was not a shred of doubt that Darlow had vomited on his first round.

He was not even holding the foulest of the things, being left with middle-aged fruits and vegetables. There had been some old eggs in there somewhere as well, but sulphur could be dealt with. It had been before. How was that tall man holding himself together? Troy could clearly see the discomfort in the man. Yet, there was not an ounce of wrong colouring present. He was holding up admirably.

Was this the power of adaptation? Being in such a putrid environment, that the brain just decided that was normal. What godly amount was he getting paid, so he would do this willingly? There might have been some jealousy of the easy-looking work, but Troy really understood why the paycheck was so high now.

The elevator itself was not the finest quality. It looked to have been taken straight from the workplace of an older building, one which was over the fifty years of age. It might just have been a relic of the facility. The sharp, white lights on the sides, the ancient camera in the inner corner, and those manually controlled buttons told of many years being used. How old was the place he stood? It might just be older than the country itself, where the new simply took hold of the old. Some of the older personnel had plenty of gaps, where they had to have worked somewhere. Was it so hard to believe that some might remember a time, where they stood on the ground owned by a forgotten country? The one before the current one had not lasted long either. Under a hundred and fifty years of existence. To others, that might have been an eternity.

The countries older than fifty years could be counted on one hand. Older than a hundred, and only two remained. Recent history had not been kind to that before it. Troy himself had lived longer than twenty of them. One of the newer was a superpower in of itself. A coalition of people had gained total domination over a large part of the world, in the time it took him to grow up a little. So much had been done, so much had been overturned. How long till a new line of people grew? How long until a new flag had to be created? If it was following the same pattern as before, it would not be too long. Or, if worse came to predictions, there might never be another flag created, for there would be no need.

"Scooch in a little," Charlie said. Holding more than Troy weighed, the muscular man was seemingly having trouble getting inside the elevator. The thing was not the largest, likely only intended for personnel-transportation. That could explain why they didn't have a thing to cart the products around with. It simply wouldn't be able to fit. As one positive thing, the elevator did have a high enough weight-limit. As long as nobody grew enough to weigh a ton, no problems would be had… probably. Troy wondered if the elevator had been checked for flaws lately. This thing was only hanging on cables. A frightening concept.

Darlow came in as the last. With everybody settled inside, one of the many buttons were pressed, and they moved downwards. A slight jump was had in the first second of movement. The brief expectation of swift death had been had, and Troy was finding it easier and easier to fear old technology.

Who would have thought it safe to hang people on ropes? If they had already gone so far from sanity, they could have just used some stairs!

Elevators were better than they were before. Instead of putting all the trust into ropes subjected to constant wear and tear, magnets were now being used. Each would be replaced under any sign of damage or loss of efficiency. The costs were low, the energy was even lower, and the chance of error was negligible.

Troy did a quick look around. No, they were still in the elevator. His attempt at distracting himself from the death machine he was standing inside was not working.

'Your heart-rate is growing. Are you having a panic attack?`Adam sent in an inquiry.

He would be breathing a bit quicker in a second or two as well. It was not looking great with that pulse of his, with how far it went up. Positively skyrocketed. A deep breath or two was not doing as much as Troy was hoping it would. Things were not looking good.

Wiggling the fingers holding the boxes, Troy attempted some kind of signal to show a negative. He might have had some anxiety-induced stuff going on, but it wasn't a full-on panic attack. If it turned, he would just be a bit more sweaty than he would want to be. No biggie. Nothing bad at all.

The AI did not send anything more. He did not mind too much, as the elevator had finally stopped itself. After a mild idea of something having gone wrong, the death machine finally opened its doors. Troy would have likely bolted out, if not for the two standing before him and unknowingly preventing from doing so.

Getting out of the thing, Troy was able to see just how bad the brain was at judging distances. The place was massive. The domes were large in themselves, large enough for animals to comfortably live in them. That there were rows upon rows of them set up, it did set a good image of how gargantuan the place was.

"Was this place built for this purpose?" Troy asked, following Darlow. The tall man had started walking towards the first row, so the other two followed without complaint. They had not done this before, so following the experience was on par with what was expected of them.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

"I am not really sure, to be honest," Darlow answered, giving as much of a shrug as he could in his current state. "This should be one of the oldest places in the facility. Might even be a part of the oldest. I think this was a simple warehouse back in the day. There certainly is a place for it. But a decade or two ago, it was refurbished with almost everything there was to want, and we were given access to it."

Troy was spot on with the age at least.

"What other old places are there?" Troy asked. It wasn't really related to Darlow’s work, being more of personal curiosity.

"Well, that should be everything under us. Go a level down, and you will find most of the old parts. Good luck getting down there though. Nobody uses it anymore, so there really aren't many reasons to remember how to get down there. And, seeing as there aren't any maps of this place, that we are allowed to know of at least, it would be best to treat them as not existing."

Not the answer that was wanted. Troy had hoped for something more specific. But, purposefully or not, it did answer one question, which had been on his mind. Throughout his stay at the facility, there was not a single time he had walked up or down a real set of stairs. It was all flat. Troy had accounted for them being near the surface, and them not being allowed to get up on the ground. Or, maybe there was nothing up there, and they just weren't able to get up. The same thing with getting deeper down. It could have just been too expensive to get further down. Wide areas with no depth instead of tight areas that are deep. It all made sense, in his little head.

But the idea of there being more floors had not gone away. And now he knew the reason why. Day to day, they were standing above the old foundations. The old parts of the facility. The place really was old, older than most people. If the technology was so old, that it was more affordable to completely build something new above, it had to be several countries old. It might even have existed when… what countries existed then? Germany? Yeah, that long ago. When small countries only first attempted to unify, this place was hidden under the ground. So many secrets were likely created within the very walls Troy stood beside. What had been said? What has been done? He would likely never know. Or with how old the secrets were, they were likely declassified by now.

Would Adam be declassified? Some documents are regularly deleted, burned, and bombed to be kept secret. It would be hard, it would require much work, but Troy did not doubt that the AI would be kept in secrecy for as long as they could. The potential was better than the simple attempts at mind-control many decades ago.

"Hurry now, you two," Darlow said from the front, trying to make the other two walk a bit faster. The tall man either did not realise the advantage long legs gave him, or he just could not care about it. A quick stride for him was a slow jog for Troy. Add onto the packages being carried, and Troy suddenly realised why that snack bar was so revered.

"Of course, my good sir," Charlie said, going up in speed. Troy simply made a grunt-like noise, trying to do the same. It was exhausting, it was hard, and it would not be the only time that it would be done today. Standing around for several hours being bored was looking more and more fun, as time passed by.

With their hurried pace, of which only one was showing exhaustion by, they had reached the first dome. It stood twenty meters tall and double as wide. A small entrance was in front of it, just where the three were standing. Darlow put down his packages, the action mirrored by the two others again, before looking around on the nametags.

"Look for the name Sumatran Tiger. Or Scarface. Could be either," Darlow said, getting crouched to have a better look at the boxes. Like before, Charlie did as instructed, beginning to look through a large number of boxes with each having a nametag. Troy, however, did not.

"Did you just say something about a tiger?" Troy asked. Darlow looked at him, confused at first but quickly understanding the facial expression shown.

"Yes. And I’ll let you pet it if you find the nametag. Hurry now, Troy. Not all of us have all day to diddle around," Darlow answered, doing his best to go through his own boxes. In actuality, the tall man was holding himself back from laughing in anticipation. One did not become friends with Charlie without some amount of sadism in the blood.

Troy wanted to ask another question, but the normal expression on Darlow’s face led him to believe that he was the weird one. Which was weird, because he could distinctly remember tigers as very feared creatures. Cause, you know, they could kill unarmed people easily. The man even remembered running from one in fear mere days ago, even if it only was simulated. Were there different meanings to the word tiger perhaps? Troy should have remembered such a weird thing, but then again, this memory had betrayed him before at the direst of times. He went back to sorting through his boxes, looking for the word tiger or… Scarface. A very gentle name for something not at all scary.

To his own abject fear, he turned out to be the one in possession of the box. On it was a very nice depiction of the nickname, coloured with what looked like red paint. A bad design choice, seeing as the box itself was also red. The aesthetic had certainly been thrown away, in the hopes that the atmosphere would solve the problems caused.

"I have the box," Troy notified the tall man of.

"Your voice is grave, Troy," Darlow noted. "Are you not happy to have found it? We can finally get a move on now."

"I am very happy," Troy said, not feeling very happy at all. It took much effort not to sound too stiff.

"That is great," Darlow remarked back, a smile fitting to be on Charlie plastered on his face. "If I remember my promise correctly, you will be getting to go in and feed the beast. We will be behind you of course. I can not miss out on it, and neither will Charlie I'm guessing."

They were both in on it! Troy should have known something was happening. Charlie had grown a smile matching Darlow’s. They were meant to be innocent, but what was hidden beneath was not easily obscured. They knew what would happen the moment Troy opened the door to the inside.

Yet, he could not get out of it. A gift could not be returned after all. Or, so the tale said. Troy had never read it himself, but he knew the ending as well as anybody. Curiosity killed the cat. Yet, was there not something about satisfaction at the end?

A slight gamble was made, for ti to be the same here. Otherwise, the man would in a world of trouble.

Walking slowly forward, the box of meat in hand, the door was reached. It had only been a few meters away after all. Yet, standing before it then, it seemed so much larger than before. Troy would likely have begun trembling if they had not commenced so earlier.

The door was opened to the inside. With eyes not wanting to look within, a step was taken. Once inside, Troy opened his eyes, letting him see… another door.

"It's a security feature. Cant have the creatures running around freely, now, can we?" Darlow said, answering the unsaid question. " With the tension gone, Troy bolted through the next door, not waiting for it to grow back.

He hit his face one the door, it not budging in the slightest. Charlie snorted but kept himself grounded.

"Another security feature. It would be pointless to have both doors open," Darlow said, finally closing the door once both him and Charlie got inside the small space.

Troy was a bit more subdued in pulse, as he successfully opened the door this time. The embarrassment was much more prevalent in his mind.

There was not even a sound said, when the tiger was beside the door, waiting for their arrival.