Subterranean Sugarbeast Safari

Magtok frowns. That wouldn't have been his entry team getting obliterated down here. Those aren't his symbols, and he sure as hell doesn't have any official Exploration Teams plumbing the depths of his own lair. A few people from MERC keeping the more troublesome stuff from venturing to the surface, sure, but not this. Who the hell were these people? What kind of hubris brings someone down here, to the MagCave? Esha, he can understand, because she's clearly adventurer material, with just a bit more professionalism and business sense than your average murderhobo, but the kind of people who organize rally points and form Exploration Teams are supposed to be smarter than this. They should know better than to march squads to be eaten alive in the bowels of an abandoned laboratory that had been managed by a madman with nigh-infinite lives, boundless scientific curiosity, and no fear of death. Really, if Magtok himself is reluctant to spend much time down here, when he has encyclopedic knowledge of every single thing that was down here when he left roughly seven years ago, what chance could some security company punks ever have?

"Have you ever invited anyone down here before?" he asks the tour guide bluntly, before rubbing his prosthetic eye with a sleeve. Ugh, and now the goddamn humidity is fogging up his vision. He's going to have to do something about this later, maybe send a bunch of drones back here with flamethrowers and firebombs for mildly inconveniencing him like this. Gonna burn the whole floor to ashes for daring to be so moist and acrid, leave a scorched ruin as an example to all the rest, then come back with more drones and burn the survivors a second time, just to be safe. Yeah, that'll show them.