You come out of the chute in a roll, land in a ready stance, instinctively sweep the room. The stone floor is slick, and the air feels thick, oily.
“Come out here please,” purrs a voice.
You step out light, on the balls of your feet. A woman in a business suit with a clipboard nods, checks something off. “We’re interested in your problem solving skills.”
The lights come up on a long, steely hallway. Unseen motors spool up, and shiny blades spin along the walls, the floor, the ceiling. There’s a distant, animal roar.
“Take your time,” she says.