Maintenance Storage

The room is in a mess because of you, littered with bits of broken crates and pink packing peanuts. It's a somewhat extensive room, with an area for loading the hover-lifters, that leads into the warehouse through hanging flaps. Otherwise it's mostly just shelves of junk, kept indefinitely for the sole reason that shipping in new parts is expensive- and you never know when you might need a slightly used zinc plated hollow oscillating rod and bolts or a platinum muffler with threaded socket. There's tools as well, but nothing that would be remotely useful right now.

The dim wall lights put the room in a criss-cross of shadows, causing your eyes to dart from side to side as you imagine seeing something in the corner of your vision. Of course, there's never anything there. The air is noticeably thinner down here- still breathable of course- but it's giving you a headache. {if Fax Panther = true}Fax has noticed it as well, though she doesn't seemed bothered by it. She is a mercenary after all, she's used to intense cardio.

"I get the feeling someone- or something- is watching us..." Fax suddenly says, "we better be more cautious going forward." She looks among the myriad of tools on display but tuts disappointed. "Wish I had a weapon on me right now. Guess I'll just have to rely on these guns!" She flexes and kisses her bicep.{endif}