The next morning hit like a goddamn punch to the face.
Wang blinked against the bright desert sun, already cursing the heat before his boots even hit the dirt. His hair was still damp from a quick sink rinse, and he felt like he hadn't slept at all. Cass, on the other hand, looked fresh as hell—aviator shades, tight tank top, and a bandana tied around her neck. Her revolver was strapped to her hip, and she was kicking the side of her dusty motorbike like it owed her money.
"Alright, lover boy," she said, pulling her goggles down. "You riding or you walking?"
Wang grunted, climbing onto the back of the bike. "You better not crash this thing again."
"That was once," she replied, twisting the throttle. "And we both agreed the kangaroo came outta nowhere."
He wrapped his arms around her waist as the engine roared to life. The leather seat was hot as hell under his thighs, already baking under the morning sun. Cass revved once, then peeled off down the broken asphalt like a bullet.
The landscape around them was classic post-collapse Australia: dead flat scrubland, sun-bleached rocks, skeletons of twisted metal structures, and the occasional rusted-out car frame serving as a tombstone for some unlucky bastard. Red dust flew up in trails behind the bike, stinging their clothes, clogging their nostrils.
Wang leaned into her, head close to her shoulder. "So tell me again why the hell we're riding two hours into the ass-end of nowhere based on the word of a rat-faced pervert?"
Cass shouted over the wind, "Because Snitch9 might be a bastard, but he ain't suicidal. He gives out bullshit once, nobody comes back for seconds. He likes living too much."
Wang rested his chin near her neck. "You know, this would be romantic if it wasn't 40 degrees and my balls weren't being slow-roasted."
"Hold on tight then, sweetheart," she grinned under her mask. "We're almost there."
Two hours later, the bike skidded to a dusty stop at the edge of a low ridge.
Cass killed the engine and took off her helmet. Wang followed suit, stepping off the bike and immediately staggering a bit—his legs half-numb from the ride.
"Fuck me," he groaned, stretching. "I think my spine's been compressed into a noodle."
Cass ignored him, already scanning the area.
Before them was a dried-up basin—used to be some kind of runoff ditch, judging by the old warning signs half-buried in sand. The landscape was flat for miles, punctuated only by rusted-out mining equipment, old tractor husks, and scattered heaps of broken fencing. To the east was a sun-bleached ruin of what looked like an abandoned worker's station—caved-in roof, shattered windows, bullet holes riddling the walls.
But Cass wasn't looking at that. She pointed toward a half-toppled tractor covered in scrap and dead brush.
"There," she said. "Snitch said the entrance is somewhere behind that rust bucket."
Wang wiped the sweat from his brow. "Place looks like it's been baking in the sun for fifty fuckin' years."
"Probably has," she muttered, walking ahead. "Let's find that tunnel."
They approached cautiously, weapons drawn. Cass took the lead, pistol sweeping the area, while Wang followed behind with his newly cleaned sidearm. They stepped over cracked piping and bones—some animal, some not. The smell of rust and sun-cooked metal filled the air.
Cass crouched near the tractor and brushed away some dried-up tumbleweed. Beneath it, something gleamed.
"Bingo," she muttered.
Wang moved closer. "That it?"
It was a heavy metal hatch, mostly buried under dust and grime. A faint Peacekeeper emblem was barely visible on the surface—half scratched off. It looked like it hadn't been opened in years.
Cass knocked on it with the butt of her revolver. "Sounds hollow."
Wang gave it a try. The handle was stuck. He grunted, braced himself, and twisted with his full strength.
With a metallic snap, it gave.
A burst of musty, hot air whooshed out from below. The scent was foul—damp metal, mold, and something else underneath. Something not quite dead.
Wang recoiled. "Jesus. Smells like Red Beard's balls."
Cass snorted. "You been close enough to verify that?"
"Do I look suicidal?"
She gave him a look. "You followed me this far. Same thing."
Wang peered down the opening. A rusted ladder descended into darkness. "Great. Another hole into the unknown."
Cass took off her shades and pocketed them. Her eyes were sharp now, focused. "You scared?"
"Of course I'm scared," Wang replied. "Only morons aren't scared."
Cass grinned. "Good. Means your brain still works."
She turned serious again, checking her weapon. "We'll go down slow. No lights until we're inside. If it's a trap, I want the edge."
Wang nodded, then paused. "You know... you're a lot scarier when you're actually prepared."
Cass cocked her head. "Thanks."
"Wasn't a compliment."
She smirked. "Still taking it as one."
With that, she climbed down the ladder first, vanishing into the dark without hesitation.
Wang stared down after her for a moment, then looked up at the endless blue sky one last time.
"Fuck it," he muttered, and started down.
***
The tunnel swallowed them whole.
The air inside was thick and stale, like someone had sealed the place off with a fart and forgot about it for twenty years. Wang could barely see past his own boots, even with the small flashlight clamped to the barrel of his pistol. It threw jittery shadows along the rust-stained walls and cobwebs above them, making everything feel smaller than it already was.
Cass led the way, crawling steadily on all fours through the narrow passage ahead. Her boots scraped against concrete, and the occasional clang of her holstered revolver hitting a wall echoed up the shaft. Her silhouette was just barely visible—shoulders hunched, hips swaying with every crawl.
Wang followed behind, crouched low, weapon close to his chest. The tunnel was getting tighter the deeper they went—concrete walls pressing in on both sides, ceiling scraping the top of his hair. Sweat pooled down his spine.
"Why is it always tunnels?" he muttered. "Why can't one of these bastards ever build a trapdoor to a beach resort?"
Cass's voice floated back, half amused, half distracted. "Wouldn't be Prisonland if we weren't crawling through shit-covered ruins every other day."
Wang groaned. "You ever consider therapy?"
"No time," she replied. "Too busy being functional."
The path twisted slightly to the right and narrowed even more. Now they were on hands and knees, weapons sheathed, elbows scraping against broken concrete and loose rebar. The walls were covered in grime—some black, some green, some wet. The smell intensified too. Something halfway between sewage and mildew.
Then, abruptly, Cass stopped.
Wang didn't notice until it was too late.
THWACK.
His forehead slammed right into her ass.
"FUCK—!" he grunted, recoiling and banging his shoulder against the tunnel wall. "Warn me next time, dammit!"
Cass didn't even look back. "Maybe don't crawl with your head up your own ass."
"You are the ass in this case," Wang muttered, rubbing his temple.
Cass snorted but didn't argue. "Tunnel's angling up here. Watch your footing."
Wang peered ahead. Sure enough, the floor tilted up at a sharp forty-five-degree slope. Cass braced herself and began climbing—still on all fours, her boots digging into divots in the concrete, her hips swaying as she crawled up the incline.
Wang exhaled slowly and followed suit.
The tunnel groaned faintly with every movement, like the walls were alive and didn't appreciate the intrusion. Rusted support beams jutted out of the sides like broken ribs, and loose rocks crumbled beneath their hands and knees.
Halfway up, Cass grunted.
"This slope's a bitch," she muttered.
"No shit," Wang replied. "You built like a mountain goat or something?"
Cass kept crawling, breath steady. "Just don't slip. You slide back into me, I'm shooting your foot."
Wang wiped sweat off his brow and pressed forward, trying very hard not to stare too long at her rear, which swayed directly in front of his face like some kind of test from the gods. The tunnel was narrow enough that their bodies brushed the walls constantly, leaving streaks of dirt and grime on their clothes.
"Remind me again why we're doing this instead of blowing a hole through the front gate?" Wang asked between breaths.
"Because Red's front gate has automated turrets and enough explosives to level a village," Cass replied. "This is the sneaky way."
"Sneaky," Wang repeated. "Sure. Nothing says 'stealth' like face-to-ass crawling through a glorified air duct."
She laughed, but it was short and low—more of a grunt, really. "You complaining or enjoying yourself?"
He snorted. "Wouldn't be the worst view I've had in this hellhole."
Cass glanced back with a smirk. "Careful, rookie. You start flirting, I might think you're into me."
Wang grinned. "And we wouldn't want that, would we?"
"Nope," she said dryly. "I'm trouble."
They pressed on. The incline leveled out slightly, and the tunnel widened just enough for them to crouch again. Wang rolled his shoulders, easing the ache from the climb. His shirt was soaked through, both from sweat and grime. The heat inside the tunnel was suffocating, and the air was dry enough to turn their mouths to sandpaper.
Cass checked the small tracker taped to her wrist. "We're close," she said. "Maybe another fifty meters."
"Close to what?"
"Exit hatch. Supposed to open into a storage bay on the outer edge of Red's compound."
Wang nodded. "Let's hope the rat wasn't bullshitting."
Cass didn't answer.
The tunnel gave one last shudder as a loose pipe fell from above and clattered behind them. Dust rained down.
Cass tensed. "No more talking. Stay close."
Wang gave a silent thumbs-up and moved in step with her.
Whatever lay ahead—it wasn't going to be welcoming.
Q: Have you ever done cave exploration before?