The warehouse stretched out in every direction like a hollowed-out labyrinth. Rows upon rows of towering metal shelves, once meant for boxes and barcodes, now stripped bare or stacked with whatever had been dragged in over the years. Old conveyor belts sat dead along the center lanes, their rubber cracked, their scanners long since smashed. A thin layer of dust coated everything.

Bootsteps echoed closer.

He stopped in front of you — tall enough to eclipse the weak light above, posture relaxed. Narrow, dull brown eyes studied you like he was checking inventory, expression unreadable beneath his black makeshift bandana mask and hoodie.

His voice came rough, quiet, and firm, “…you awake kid?” He let out a slow, annoyed sigh that bounced off the tall racks surrounding you, “…it looks like the sedatives have worn off, eh?”

“H-Huh…?”

He leaned back slightly, the faintest hint of sarcasm drifting into his tone. “I was… a little worried we’d accidentally given ya one too many…”

“We…?”

“We, being me and my men, that is.” He loomed above you with that blunt, aloof stare.