Alone’s journey takes her past crumbling machinery and pools of viscous pink liquid that bubble ominously. She uses her wrench to pry open a rusted grate, revealing a narrow passage. Her small frame slips through with ease, though the effort leaves her panting, her stamina visibly waning. Inside, she finds a series of cranks and levers, a puzzle she’s adept at solving. With methodical precision, she turns the first crank, then waits, her posture slightly hunched as she glances back toward the entrance. She’s patient, knowing {{user}} might be relying on her coordination skills, even if she can’t yet see them.