Following the map that Techlock had sketched, we headed back to the cafeteria and then took a right, moving through a series of different corridors and sections, past places with exotic names like ‘US ARMY RECRUITER’ and ‘NIGHT CLUB’. We continued deeper into the bunker and took the quickest route available. Finally, we arrived at the lift device, a platform apparently designed to move straight up or down, quickly transporting people to their desired levels.

I surveyed it, impressed with the concept.

The platform was large and sturdy, made of thick, reinforced metal. Rails lined the edges, providing both safety and structure. Above, a network of heavy-duty cables and pulleys connected to a massive motor housed in the ceiling, which would power the lift with ease. I saw that the motor was rusted and covered in thick black tar. Doubtfully, I pushed the button next to the left door, and it opened with a heavy clank.

“After you,” I said. Techlock moved inside and I followed. However, when he hit one of the many buttons on the panel, the lift did nothing.

The man cursed loudly.

“Looks like it’s dead,” Techlock said, tapping the panel again.

“Figures,” I muttered, disappointed. I’d been looking forward to trying the old tech out and seeing what happened. “Stairs it is.”

We turned away and walked a little way down the corridor, finding the door to the stairwell almost immediately. Taking a deep breath, I pulled the door open and we stepped through.

The metallic winding stairwell stretched downward, a spiraling descent into the depths of the bunker. Each step echoed as we descended, the metal grates beneath our feet allowing glimpses of the levels below through the gaps in the steps. The stairwell was sturdy and there was no sign of structural damage, but it definitely showed signs of age, with rust creeping along the edges and joints. Flickering lights illuminated our path, casting intermittent shadows that all added up to a quite eerie atmosphere.

As we neared the very bottom of the structure, where the mutagen was supposed to be stored, we saw a large sign posted along the wall: High-Security Area. Do Not Enter Without Approval From the Overseer.

“Think we’ll get in trouble?” I joked.

Techlock snorted.

“I’ve got a feeling there aren’t many constables in these parts.”

We descended the stairs cautiously, the air now growing cooler and damper as we entered the bowels of the earth. The walls here were reinforced with metal, and we ran into several more signs warning of restricted access. We were almost there, though, when the silence was shattered by a loud, blaring alarm. Red lights flashed around us, bathing the stairwell in an ominous glow.

“That’s not good,” I said, heart suddenly pounding in my throat. My dagger was back in my hand in an instant as was Techlock’s.

“Move!” Techlock shouted. “I’ll try to find a way to shut it off.”

As he sprinted ahead, the bunker’s security systems activated, guns emerging from hidden panels in the walls. I ducked and rolled, flopping down the last of the steps and losing my dagger as bullets tore into the spot where I’d just been standing.

“Focus,” I told myself, looking back up to the old tech turrets. They were moving in a jittery and broken way, slow and inaccurate, and that gave me an idea. Rising back up, I leaped forward up the steps into the line of fire, then did a cartwheel backward as the bullets again tore into where I’d been standing. It was tough, and I almost took a full-on side-ass tumble back down the stairs, but I managed to halt my movement and retrieve my dagger before they could get another line on me.

Moving with precision, I used the narrow confines of the stairwell to my advantage, slipping between the walls and the handrail, making it difficult for the automated turrets to get a clear shot.

One turret swung towards me, and I lunged, driving my dagger into the glassy eyes of its sensor. Sparks flew, and the turret went dark. I rolled to avoid another barrage, my mind racing for solutions.

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“Come on, Techlock,” I shouted, dodging another blast of bullets.

Though he was out of sight, I could hear Techlock dodging his own spits of automated fire.

“I see the terminal, but I’ll be damned if I know how to get to it without getting chewed up!” he yelled.

I flipped sideways out of another hail of bullets, then engaged the remaining stairwell turret with a series of feints and slashes, disrupting its targeting system. The security system was relentless, but so was I. And unlike it, I was moving smoothly, well on top of my game. My movements were a blur as I dodged left, then right, before jumping onto the remaining turret and spiking it through the camera hole.

I sat down, panting, taking a moment to listen to Techlock curse from the next room. He was tapping hard at some keys, so it seemed likely he’d figured out a way through. My hands shook and I felt drained. Hungry. Sleepy. Hurting all over.

As if by magic, the alarms ceased, and the red lights blinked off. The remains of the turrets retracted, and from within the storage floor, I couldn’t hear any more turret fire.

“Got it!” Techlock yelled from within, breathing heavily. “Security system is offline.”

It was then that I could feel the sting on my leg. Looking down, I saw that a round had ripped through my protective pants. Panic shot through me as I reached down to check the wound, but I let out a long and giggling sigh when I realized it was just a bloody graze.

“You all good in there, Techlock?” I asked.

He coughed and chuckled. “Never better. You?”

“Flesh wound. Nothing serious, though. My suit is breached, so there’s that.”

“Shit,” I could hear him curse and then something hit a wall with a loud clunk, only to follow up with a clattering sound. He must have hurled something into the wall. I shared his feelings, but it would have been a lot worse if the bullets had ripped through my leg, so there was that…

“You good to walk?”

“Sure am, Tech,” I shot back.

Another short silence followed before he answered.

“Then let’s get digging, kid. I didn’t almost die for nothing.”

We joined up and walked into the storage area, the first part appearing to have been some sort of security station and lounge for their security personnel. The room was better lit than we were used to at that point, and the walls were lined with lockers and shelves, some overturned, their contents spilled across the floor. Just like in most of the bunkers. Someone had gone through the stuff quickly and hadn’t spared the furniture, probably figuring no one else would ever visit this place. Well, even in this state, it sure made for a great hiding spot. I reflected on it. Some repairs and cleaning could make it a spacious and comfortable home.

A dusty, leather couch sat against one wall, its cushions torn and stuffing poking through. In front of it was a low table, cluttered with old magazines, empty coffee cups, and a deck of playing cards. Opposite the couch was a massive rectangle of plastic, within which were set numerous smaller screens, most cracked. A few of them still functioned, showing us other places within the bunker in real-time.

As I looked, I noticed one area was a literal swamp, filled with the mutated creatures we’d seen before. They seemed to be frolicking and playing, without any cares in the world, and I briefly wondered if they’d miss the ones we killed.

Maybe, but I highly doubted it.

Underneath the surveillance screens, the control panel was a mess of wires and broken switches. If we took our sweet time, most of it was certainly salvageable. It was something I’d think about if the storage rooms ended up being a bust.

We continued to search the room. As I dug through lockers filled with rot and decay, my eyes caught on something intriguing. There, sitting at on an upper shelf, lay a handheld device. One encased by a sturdy, metallic casing. I picked it up, wiping away the dust to reveal its label: Portable Holographic Projector.

“This could be worth a fortune,” I said, showing it to Techlock.

He nodded appreciatively.

“They sell well to those with the creds for it. That’s a good find. Keep it safe.”

We continued our search, coming up with some minor loot like batteries and a few energy cells, but then I hit the jackpot. A cavalry blade mounted on a memorial plaque. The blade was well-preserved, its edge still sharp. I noticed there wasn’t a single speck of rust on it and wondered if I shouldn’t keep it for myself.

“Nice blade,” Techlock remarked. “Might come in handy.”

“I’d love to keep this as part of my claim,” I said, sheathing my dagger and putting my torchlight into a vest pocket before holding the new weapon up before me. “I bet this could do a lot of damage if necessary.”

“Just make sure you don’t stab yourself with it. Nothing in this world would probably save you from a wound like that.”

I chuckled but nodded.

Moving further into the complex, we found a hallway filled with doors labeled Storage 1, Storage 2, and so on. The air stank of muck and the floor was covered over with a thin layer of water that slowly ebbed in from underneath the doors into the corridor. It reminded me of what we’d seen on the screens. Mutated humans in water-filled rooms. Would a few of them jump out at us once we opened the door? I kept myself prepared just in case.

“Alright,” Techlock said, glancing at the map. “The mutagen should be inside Storage 2. Are you ready? We have no idea what’s inside, so prepare.”

“Ready as can be, Tech,” I replied. “The moment we get what we need, we’re out of here. Okay?”

“Agreed. Grab and go. Sounds like a plan.”

His hand landed on the handle and pushed down with a steady screech.