I run past the grate and explode in a fit of coughing, hacking and wheezing. Blood spatters all over the floor and I’m spent. I can do nothing but lie there for a few seconds, looking around to see if anyone heard my outburst. The voices are gone, and no one else is around. It seems I’m safe.
After a few moments, I’m able to compose myself and continue my trek through the drainage pipe. About ten minutes later, the pipe narrows off and ends at a shower drain, about five inches in diameter. Looks like my only real possibility for escape is that grate a ways back. Let’s hope it’s well and clear by now.
I backtrack to the grate and wait for ten minutes. Nothing but the dripping of sewage and the hum of whatever machinery may be in the room above the grate. Now or never, Jack. I hook my crowbar into the edge of the grate and begin prying. Oddly enough, it pops off with barely any effort. I clamber out of the drainage pipe and into the room above it.
The room is large, concrete, and dimly lit by a series of small red lights lining the walls. The only actual object in the room is a huge machine of some sort. Occasionally it belches steam as if it were a dragon breathing fire, and some pistons within the belly of the beast make loud whirring and scratching noises. I have no idea as to what it could possibly be used for, and I don’t have the time to waste attempting to figure it out.
I emerge from the machine room into another red-tinted, dimly lit concrete hallway, which seems to stretch on forever. About halfway down the hallways, I realize every muscle in my body is feeling like shit, probably from the goddamn plague. It’s becoming difficult to lift my feet to walk. Miraculously, though, I make it to the end of the hallway, still completely alone as far as I can tell. It’s too quiet. Unsettling. And this red light feels like I’m in hell or something.
At the end of the hallway is a huge metal door set into a metal plated wall. Someone definitely doesn’t want people getting to whatever is in that room. I examine the code input device that obviously powers its unlocking mechanism. Ah. For the first time in I can’t remember how long, I actually manage a smile. The input screen has ten spaces. Nine of the ten are filled with a little X, signifying that a number had already been put in. Only one digit to go, it would appear. I get in close and examine the number keys. People obviously don’t come down here often, so the whole area is quite dusty. I examine the keypad for dust. The “7” key does indeed appear to be slightly dustier than the others. The question is whether this keypad requires each button to be pressed only once, as many do, or whether the code is completely random. Ah, what the hell, only got one lead, right? I press the 7 key.
After a series of clanks and whirs that stretches on for about ten seconds, the door slides open with a hiss. I enter, keeping an eye out for anything that might spell trouble. The room contains a non-holographic display screen and a huge array of keys, each bearing a different command. I press the map key, and the screen hums on, showing a world map and a circle around each major capital city. I find a key marked “info” and press it. The information I discover hits me like a punch in the gut. This terminal is CyberCorp’s personal missile silo control room. Apparently, CyberCorp has missile silos on every continent aimed at every major capital city in the world. No wonder CyberCorp could exert so much influence on international economics and politics. Somewhere along the line, CyberCorp found a way to put the balls of every government on planet Earth in a vice grip. All CyberCorp had to do was squeeze, and the whole world would scream like castrati. Those bastards. I can turn it all around. It’s time to make a difference in the world.
Leave the controls alone, it’s too dangerous
Try to reprogram the console to make the missiles face CyberCorp HQ
There’s an unmarked red button under a glass shield on the control panel. Press the button
