The stairwell tightened around them as they descended — walls dripping with condensation, wires snaking along the ceiling like veins.
Miles kept his hand on the rebar he'd salvaged, blood from the Bloodhound still flaking off it.
Levi limped two steps behind him, silent.
Kayla followed last — the distance between her and the others stretching wider with every stair.
They reached a landing.
Another metal door barred their path, cracked slightly open.
Miles pushed it wider with the tip of the rebar.
Inside: a massive industrial room.
Huge steel pillars held up a ceiling lost in darkness. Machinery rumbled somewhere deep in the bowels of the structure.
And there, crouched behind a fallen generator, was a man.
Mid-30s. Shaved head. Wearing a shredded hoodie stained with old blood.
His hands were shaking — but he gripped a crowbar like it was the only thing keeping him alive.
He spotted them instantly.
"Stay back!" he barked, voice raw.
Miles didn't raise his weapon. Just held up one hand.
"We're not part of it," he said, voice low.
The man hesitated.
Eyes sunken. Sleepless. Wild.
Then — a shaky laugh. "Nobody's not part of it. Not in here."
Levi muttered under his breath, "Charming."
Miles stepped forward slowly. "What's your name?"
The man wiped his mouth, leaving a smear of blood across his cheek.
"Shiloh."
Kayla whispered it under her breath, like tasting it for danger.
Shiloh stood at full height — a little taller than Miles, but thin. Malnourished. He moved like someone who hadn't slept in days... maybe longer.
"You alone?" Miles asked.
Shiloh laughed again — a harsh, broken sound. "Not by choice."
Something moved in the shadows beyond the pillars — a wet slithering sound.
Everyone went still.
Shiloh's eyes snapped toward it, terror naked on his face.
"You hear that?" he hissed. "It's coming back."
Before Miles could ask what, the floor buzzed — and a huge square panel dropped from the ceiling, smashing into the ground.
Another monitor.
This one flashed a single word:
> RULE #20: NO DEAD WEIGHT.
Miles barely had time to process it when a shape burst from the darkness.
A nightmare.
It looked like a man at first glance — tall, thin, arms too long.
But its face was wrong. No features. Just a slick, shining mask of skin stretched tight over the skull.
It sprinted at them on all fours, shrieking — faster than anything that size should move.
Levi shouted and stumbled back.
Shiloh raised his crowbar — swung — but the thing was already on him.
Claws tore into his side.
He screamed — a terrible, animal sound.
Miles moved on instinct, swinging the rebar with both hands. It cracked against the creature's shoulder — a sickening snap — but it hardly flinched.
It shoved Shiloh toward the others.
Miles realized — too late — what it was doing.
Shiloh staggered forward, bleeding heavily — toward Miles, Levi, and Kayla.
Dragging his dead weight with him.
The monitor above them blared:
> NO DEAD WEIGHT.
And the floor beneath their feet cracked open — a pit of spinning, grinding gears yawning wide.
Levi cursed and jumped back.
Kayla screamed.
Miles grabbed Shiloh under the arms — dragging him back from the edge.
But Shiloh was dead already.
Eyes wide open.
Neck twisted at a brutal angle.
Dead weight.
The pit started to pull — a vacuum force.
Something demanded a price.
Miles looked at the dead man in his arms.
And let go.
Shiloh's body was sucked downward, disappearing into the gears with a sickening crunch.
The pit sealed shut instantly.
The room went still.
The faceless creature had retreated — for now.
The monitor overhead flashed again:
> PASSAGE GRANTED.
A hidden wall slid open, revealing another corridor.
Levi wiped sweat from his brow. "Jesus."
Kayla was trembling, staring at the spot where Shiloh had vanished.
Miles didn't let himself feel it.
Didn't let himself slow.
He just said, voice hollow:
"Move."
And they did.
Because in Roomage — you either dropped dead weight.
Or you became it.