Descent into Iron

The stairwell drop led to a heavy steel bulkhead at the basement threshold. Morning darkness settled thick across the cracked concrete floor, smelling of grease and iron scale. A thick rubber conduit pulsed violently along the wall, groaning under mechanical current. I did not pause. Closing the distance, I slammed both foreclaws hard against the cold metal plate of the conduit junction. The shockwave of iron and static rattled straight up my spine, vibrating into my open jaw. A loose steel washer rattled off a pipe overhead, pinging sharply into the dark. Territory claimed. The pit belongs to me.