The Architect's Dream
The steel door, groaning like a dying beast, finally yielded to Marcus’s combined efforts of brute force and salvaged hydraulic tools. Dust, thick and choking, billowed out, tasting of metal and decay. He coughed, pulling his respirator tighter against his face, the weak filters doing little to alleviate the gritty sensation in his lungs. He shone his flashlight into the abyss.