For now, she stands and pockets the reader, turning to look past the boilers.

Whoever left this, she has a feeling they're on her side.

At the end of the U-shaped boiler room is a door. Beyond it is a rooftop terrace garden. Another turret can be seen panning back and forth, facing away from her into the terrace, red glow spilling from the exposed circuitry.

Beyond it, she can see a revolver resting on one of the deck chairs.

Oh, that's how it is, hmm?

She treads carefully towards the machine, moving around the greenery and always keeping her eyes on the the blue light radiating from the front of the turret.

As she nears the device from behind, she crouches down and gets a better look at the circuitry.

Whoever designed this thing must not have known—or cared—what they were doing: the circuitry is exposed and accessible from behind the turret.

Looking at it, she can see where the circuit-board appears to connect to a battery. If she can just…

Something in there ticks and beeps very faintly in response to her attempt. Did she brush some kind of sensitive circuit?

The red light inside seems to brighten slowly, though the blue light of the camera's gaze still pans back and forth steadily.

Shit, that can't be good.

This thing seems to have sensors all over, and one of them set off a timer or something.

She hurriedly disconnects one of a few wires, then another, then..

With a sharp click, she manages to find the power lines and disconnect the battery.

The whirring stops, the lights shut off, and the barrel slumps down to the ground.

She relaxes back, sighing in relief. She'll have to be more careful going forward.

She sits back, slowly opens her eyes, and—oh right, the gun~!

Up she goes, over to the deck chair; then she picks up the revolver, inspecting it.

Smith & Wesson Model 10. Fits the handful of .38 specials she found earlier. It's a little banged up, but perfectly serviceable.

Huh. Convenient that it takes the cartridges she already found, but she's not complaining.

She confidently loads the firearm, dropping one cartridge after another into the cylinder before slotting it solidly back into place. It feels like she's used one of these before, but she can't quite remember.

Standing, she turns and makes her way to the exit at the far end of the terrace. What else is there around here?

Deck chairs to lounge in, a few tiny tables, some plants around the edges, a raised section full of machinery, and then around the far side, toward the far door, she can see a steadily flashing blue light.

She grins, looking excitedly over at the flashing blue light. If that's what she thinks it is, it looks like she's going to get to find out how similar these things are to eachother.

Steadily and carefully, she makes her way through around the terrace and toward the light, making sure to keep out of the light itself at all times.

As she gets closer, she can faintly hear a woman's voice, ringing out in some wordless song.

On this side of the U-shaped terrace, to her left is a metal catwalk, while to her right is some kind of shed full of shelves.

On the catwalk to the left is another turret, the arm spinning a full circle continuously, with no blind spot.

A small white rectangle seems to be resting atop a barrel, just past the turret.

She carefully pauses behind the doorway, waiting until the turret rotates away from her before walking back around, facing the turret, and…

Breathe out…

Pause…

Press.

Bang.

A small hole punches through the metal plating, striking and destroying the battery.

The turret arm slumps toward the ground, and the light goes out.

And… breath in.

Fuck, that was more stressful than she expected.

She takes more calm, slow breaths, gradually reducing her heart rate and calming her down.

…Phew.

Finally, she lowers her gun and carefully picks her way around the turret to the barrel with the small object on it.

The singing gets louder as she does so.

It turns out to be a cassette tape.