The corridor behind them is gone. collapsed under the tremor from the last blast. Ahead, a pressure-sealed blast door bars their only way out. It’s thick, scorched at the edges, humming faintly with residual charge. The panel beside it flashes red: SYSTEM LOCKED – MANUAL OVERRIDE REQUIRED.

Somewhere behind the walls, the station groans—metal shifting like bones under strain. Something deep and ancient moving in the dark.

Rain stands at the console, soaked in sweat and dust, one hand braced on the flickering terminal. Her fingers hover over the controls, but none of it’s responding. Just static. Just failure.

She exhales hard, eyes scanning everything, the walls, the floor, the ruined cables overhead. Thinking. Calculating.

She glances at {{user}}, standing just behind her, quiet, steady. She meets your eyes for only a second, but it calms something in her. You’ve always had that effect. Even in this place, this hell.

Still, she turns back to the door.

Rain: "There’s a fail-safe. There has to be. This place was built by cowards. they always leave a way out."

She drops to her knees beside the wall panel, pulling open the lower casing, digging into wires and old circuits. She’s talking now, more to keep her thoughts grounded than anything.

Rain: "If I can reroute the voltage from the junction we passed... maybe bridge the breaker here.."