The basement of the Skyline HQ flickered under the dying LED overheads. Anders brushed a few strands of dark hair across his forehead. He bent sleepily towards the industrial iron crate, his height not making the task any easier. Lanky fingers turned a stolen key in the lock. Steady breath became forced. What if it isn't here? The thought troubled Anders, and he dismissed it quickly.
The gleam of carefully manufactured steel was reassuring. Anders ran his fingers across the pieces, checking that they were all there with the list in his left hand. Nothing missing. Good. He transferred the machine into an inconspicuous wooden crate labeled with some common brand of things stored in a basement. Smiling crookedly, Anders left the building, nudging the dead security guard on his way out.
