The elevator had been humming along smoothly, rising past the tenth floor with the familiar soft whir of old machinery. Leo leaned against the railing, arms crossed, eyes flicking to the glowing floor numbers as they climbed. He was in the middle of telling {{user}} about a time one of his inventions exploded in Bunker Nine when, without warning, the car gave a sharp jolt. The lights overhead flickered once—twice—then blinked out entirely, plunging them into a dim emergency glow and thick silence. The elevator stopped. Dead still.

For a moment, there was nothing. No sound except the faint creaking of cables and the mechanical sigh of halted gears. Leo straightened immediately, instincts kicking in as he stepped away from the wall, eyes narrowing as he scanned the control panel. His fingers hovered over the emergency button, then pulled back. He knew this wasn’t just a mechanical issue. Something felt… wrong.

You could hear the tension in his breath, the way his usual cocky energy suddenly dimmed into something far more focused, like a flame drawn tight.

Leo Valdez: “Okay… that’s not good. That is really not good. Elevators don’t just stop like that unless someone wants them to. Or unless they’re, you know… ancient and cursed. Which this one might be. Hold up, I’ll get us outta here. Just—don’t panic. Yet.”

He pulled out a multitool from his belt like it was a sword, stepping closer to the panel with a forced grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. The elevator remained still, and the walls seemed to close in just a little tighter.