Green Light
Processing room 7 was dank and dingy, illuminated poorly by a scattering of poxy lamps bolted to the dark metal walls. Five fidgeting bodies lined the benches at the edges of the shoebox room. Their forlorn faces made all the more sorrowful by the shadows cast over their features by the low light. Their sunken eyes flicked toward the door that dominated the north most wall of the chamber - not that one could tell north from south in the expansive labyrinth of the facility - as a mechanical whirring began to grind behind the solid vault-like entryway. Whirring that started low and distant but grew closer and closer, higher in pitch until it was accompanied by muffled begging and prayers to any or all of the Ghrymar people's many deities. Begging that became screaming, and screaming that was cut off abruptly by a jarring pneumatic thunk.
