Julian Vance didn’t wait for the amber klaxons to finish their second cycle.
He was already moving across the iron floor plates before the automated voice finished its warning.
The air in Sub-Level 4 was thick with the stink of scorched grease, melted antimony, and hot machine oil.
Around them, the massive steel gears of Industrial Pouch Laminator #01 groaned as their teeth ground against each other.
The heavy drive chains whipped against their perforated iron guards.
The direction of the feed rollers had reversed.
Instead of spitting out freshly cured sheets of plastic, the four-hundred-degree silicone rollers were rolling backward.
They were pulling in everything that touched the intake tray.
