"Who the hell is supposed to be quiet, you fuck?" Bruno hissed, lowering his voice exactly enough to still be heard three meters away.
"Even the rats have moved out of here."
"I feel like I'm inside the stomach of a dead whale."
The radio in his ear crackled to life.
Gideon's voice.
"Confirmed.
According to the archives, this branch of the catacombs has been officially closed since 2029.
No official visits since then."
Bruno snorted so loudly the echo bounced back to them a few seconds later.
"Perfect.
Just a dream come true.
I love places where the door has a sign that says 'officially closed' and inside it smells like someone forgot to turn off the meat grinder."
Ethan pressed the talk button; his voice came out low, almost flat.
"How are you holding up?"
A pause.
Rustle of fabric.
A distant, soft, almost affectionate animal huff—Bullet had clearly settled comfortably on something plush.
"Alive," Gideon replied.
"Bullet stole the last clean bandage and now considers herself the squad's chief surgeon. She's proudly lying on your pillow, giving me the 'I'm in charge here' look."
In the background came a contented snuffle and the light tap of claws on parquet.
Bruno perked up.
"Tell Bullet that if we don't come back, she officially inherits my sock collection. Especially the ones with pineapples."
"She's already sleeping on them," Gideon replied calmly.
"And apparently considers them her personal throne."
Flash suddenly raised a clenched fist. Stop.
Everyone froze.
Even Bruno shut up instantly, though his eyes still radiated extreme skepticism.
Three seconds of silence.
Bruno couldn't hold it.
"I'm quiet.
But I'm quietly still stinking."
Flash rolled his eyes so dramatically it was visible even in the red glow of the headlamp.
He pulled a packet of fabric filters from his chest pocket and tossed one to each of them.
"Put them on. No talking."
Ethan silently pulled his on.
The fabric sealed tightly against his face, smelling of charcoal and mint.
Bruno suspiciously sniffed his, squinting.
"What the hell is this crap?"
"Charcoal, mint, and a little something extra," Flash said dryly.
"What 'extra'?"
"Don't ask questions if you want to use the mask."
Bruno shrugged and pulled it on.
Two breaths.
He froze.
"Oh…"
One more deep inhale.
"Oh, fuck me, I like it!!"
Gideon gave a quiet chuckle over the radio; the sound was warm, almost familial.
"Recorded for history.
Bruno is actually pleased with something for the first time in his life."
They moved forward.
Footsteps echoed heavily under the low vaults.
Headlamp beams sliced the darkness with thin red blades, pulling old brick arches, rusted pipes, hanging tatters of cobweb, and crumbling plaster out of the gloom.
Ethan walked in silence, but his gaze worked relentlessly,catching every scratch on the wall, every half-erased mark, every broken sign fragment, every barely visible number.
Flash raised his fist again.
Everyone stopped at once.
"Look," he said quietly, lighting the wall.
On the cracked brickwork, faded paint.
An almost completely worn symbol: a circle with a crossed-out arrow and three dots inside.
Gideon responded instantly over the radio:
"I see it through the camera.
Wait… zooming in…"
A short pause filled with the rustle of keys.
"It's an old lab marker. Pre-war bio-sector.
Security level three."
Bruno whistled softly through the filter.
"So we're going the right way.
Straight into the mouth of the people who love playing God."
Flash said.
Flash ran his fingers over the rough surface, as though he could still feel the warmth of foreign hands that had touched this wall not long ago.
"Maria could have been looking for exactly this place."
Ethan answered quietly, almost a whisper.
"Or she already found it and now we're the extra here."
They turned into a narrow corridor,so tight they had to walk single file, shoulders brushing damp walls.
The smell grew unbearably thick, even through the filters.
Bruno groaned:
"I changed my mind about dying.
Can we just leave? Please?"
Gideon over the radio:
"According to the map, there's a large chamber ahead. Possibly an old technical hub.
Rough size: forty by sixty meters. Ceiling height: four and a half meters."
Flash nodded.
"Ready up. If we hit a Vourdalak nest, I will personally kill our spotter…"
A sigh from Gideon over the radio.
They switched off all unnecessary lights. Only the thin red beams of headlamps remained.
Another ten meters.
A door.
Old, metal, half-eaten by rust. Peeling paint hung in rags.
Heavy industrial lock with a massive shackle.
Flash crouched, shining his light on the lock.
"Opened recently."
Ethan felt every muscle from the nape of his neck to his heels tense.
"How recently?"
Flash traced a fresh, still-shiny scratch on the metal.
"A few weeks.
Tool marks are fresh.
Someone was here. I'm sure of it."
Silence hung on the radio.
Then Gideon, quietly, almost toneless:
"Then… possibly… she was here."
Bruno tightened his grip on the sledgehammer handle.
"So… should we knock politely and ask who's home?"
Flash slowly exhaled through the filter; the sound was like dry leaves rustling.
"No."
He pulled out a thin, curved lockpick,almost surgical. Metal clicked softly under his fingers: once, twice, third time.
The lock gave with a light, almost offended snap.
Flash looked up at the others. His eyes looked brighter in the red light.
"Ready?"
Ethan nodded first.
"Yes."
Bruno grinned through the filter; his teeth flashed white.
"Let's go."
Flash slowly, almost soundlessly pulled the heavy door toward him.
The door gave way.