Don waited by the tunnel mouth with his back against the wall, one boot planted flat, the other bent, sole pressed to it.
Starboy stood a few paces ahead, arms loose at his sides, gaze fixed down the dark. Pyro lingered closer to Don, shifting his weight from heel to toe like he was trying to bleed off nervous energy without admitting it.
Across the chamber, Charles and his group mirrored them. No one spoke. No one needed to.
Time stretched.
The hum of the mounted lights filled the space, broken only by the faint drip of moisture hitting stone.
Minutes passed.
Then Don's communicator vibrated against his collarbone.
"Alright," Elliot's voice came through, distorted but steady. "We're at the junction and about to proceed inside. Team one can move."
Don pushed off the wall and rolled his shoulders once. "Let's go."
Starboy frowned. "We heard him."
He stepped past Don and entered the tunnel first, brushing Don's shoulder as he did.
