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One way I've climbed steps in the dark, by feel: Nudge your foot forward til it hits the front face of the next step, then lift that foot, plant it on the step, pull your other foot up next to it. Repeat.
Sadly, this method is slow, and since you had to be all macho in front of Kendra you don't have much time. Way to go, Bina.

Is there a hand rail?

There's no time to grab one of the glow-sticks from her case. She'll have to risk it. She climbs up and the darkness envelops her.

One step at a time. Just five more flights of stairs.

She climbs, bent almost double, gripping the hand rail and trying not to bark herself in the shins with the unwieldy metal case.

She slithers each booted foot across the stair from the front until it thunks into the back frame, then repeats the process. One step at a time. One step at a time.

"It's taking too long!" she thinks, and barely manages to restrain herself from running headlong up the stairs. Falling right now would be worse then stopping to unpacking the light.

She reaches the top of one flight of stairs and shuffles around the corner carefully, hand groping until she finds the next bannister. As she turns a corner, the last of the light from the entrance vanishes and it becomes absolutely dark.

Just put one foot in front of the other. One foot in front of the other and don't think about the dark.

It's ok.

It's OK!

It's just dark.

The staircase is thick with the smell of old smoke, and in places, her hand traces over places where the paint has bubbled and the plaster has flaked away from the walls. This isn't water damage, this building must have burned at some point.

She focuses on the smell of that burning. Charred pine from the supports, and dust, and a hint of something chemical.

Not a pleasent smell, but at least it's not the smell of rusting iron and dirty water.

She shies away from those thoughts. She's fine. She's not back in the pipe again. She can breathe. There's air here. She's not in the pipe. She's fine.

WHY couldn't Kendra have done this bit!?

Her hands feel wet inside her gloves and she realizes that she's gripping the railing so hard that her hand has started to ache.

At first she thinks her glove must be leaking until she realizes that she's sweating like a pig inside her suit, despite the cold.

It's ok. It's just darkness.

There are no monsters in these shadows.

Not yet.

The monsters aren't scheduled to show up for almost fifteen minutes…