The skulker was weary, and it showed in his foggy, sunken eyes. Perhaps "skulker" isn't the most politically correct term, though it's none will argue the accuracy of the nickname. The folks on the surface that fancy the biological sciences aren't entirely sure if they should be classified as a separate species or not, though they are certainly treated as such- and a lesser one at that.

The Atlasians were decidedly insulted that such a study was even performed.

The passage was pitch black, and he could tell you this with certainty even in the darkness. Dark steel was popular several decades ago, replaced with more modern gold and white. Much of the undercity was in such a state- buildings often hundreds of years old and since absconded, sealed, and re-purposed as the supports to be built upon once more. Ever higher, ever closer to their sun.

Deeming this room to be of sufficient size, he removed his rucksack and lowered it tenderly to the ground. His fingers loosened the large compartment to a steady rhythm of whirling of hydraulic joints. Opened, he pulled out an oblong cylindrical case and tied it to the leg of an overturned table. Good enough for now. He silently prayed this one wasn't busted and he hadn't climbed all this way for nothing. Fishing around in his backpack for something that didn't make a sharp sound when he rapped his steel fingers upon it, he eventually located a cable with a crude metal tip at the end. It didn't take long to locate what he was searching for- surface architects haven't innovated on their wiring in decades. He inserted the metal tip into an outlet behind a shattered, empty display case.

Damn vultures 've already been here.

Finishing his work, he gingerly fed the other end of the cable into the lamp until a click of a connection echoed from within. Satisfied with his handiwork, he leaned back and took in his surroundings. Mid-elevation structure, probably belonging to a successful craftsman of sorts, or maybe a collector. Out-facing walls were sheets of glass, with only a few scratches here and there. Outside, the archway not 3 feet away that he had used to climb here.

The panes of glass began to rattle- perfect timing. Like an earthquake from above, the buildings all around him began to tremble, showering the explorer with dust. Thousands of surface generators came to life, right on schedule, to power the streetlights only several hundred feet up. Moment of truth- he hoped the electricians above hadn't done their homework.

The lamp flickered before bathing the room in a pale blue glow. It produced roughly a candle's worth of light, but that was more than enough. He quickly averted his eyes from the intense glow, now gathering a better view of the outside. Three blocks down, he saw the same glow from an old merchant's shop at street level. The path had been extended once again. Closing his eyes, he basked in the lifegiving light. It was long since he had slept and he was hungry. He had earned this meal.

His few remaining muscles relaxed, and he fell asleep, dreaming of Atlas.