The container didn't spray toxic chemicals, nor did it even have the courtesy to making a beeping noise, but instead just slowly dribbled out a puddle of thick, inky liquid on the ground where it lay. It looked like the canister was once a sleek, silvery, high-tech looking thing, but a period of exposure to whatever it was that made up the body of the slime had quickly eaten away at a strip of it. The slime-based creature, Hip, began to move in a way that looked less like it was slowly melting into something you'd scrape off the bottom of your shoe and more like, well, something alive.
Arm like protuberances sprouted from it's sides.
Little holes began to open and close about the surface of it, bringing in what passes for Ofromian 'fresh air' into it's system.
"Can't believe they had the moxy to gank me," bubbled Hip Kallo, his voice like a clogged drain, "where's the love, I ask ya? Aw, shoot, where's my manners got to? Relying on the kindness of strangers and I don't even thank 'em properly, Hip, the colony didn't raise you to be like that, no sir. You've got my thanks, strangers."
The right hand pipe twisted and turned through the underground. Dimly lit by the screen of the cleaner-bot and the little GloBrellas, an amateur tunnel enthusiast could probably pick out all sorts of fascinating details; the age of the construction given the freshness of the paint, the unique ecosystem that had come to exist in this unnatural environment and the arcane meaning of the things scratched into the walls at various intervals. It was unfortunate that no 'Tunnelheads' (as tunnel enthusiasts are known to call themselves, which doesn't improve their odds of being invited to parties) were present to enjoy such a sight, but with the water nipping at the heels of Fiddlesticks, perhaps it was really something of a blessing.
Towards the end of the right-hand pipe, it turned sharply upwards. Water dripped down from the tunnel above them, and a set of decoratively rusted metal loops were set into the pipe. They were conveniently placed, letting any visiting Tunnelhead get in and out of this secondary pipe with ease, although there were some trade-offs to be had for such a convenience. The risk of tetanus, for instance. Above them, the main tunnel beckoned - a huge, concrete tube set into the ground that runs left and right. The Team B bees were already waiting, and just behind Fiddlesticks, the two other teams were making a bee-line towards him, ready to take on their next scouting mission.