Of course, because it was a reburial process, many skeletons were incomplete, so in the end, the missionaries could only stack the torsos and femurs together to form walls, and then adorn them with skulls to create patterns.
Yes, patterns. They arranged the skulls into various designs: cross shapes, heart shapes, or flowers. In short, they tried their best to make this eerie underground giant catacomb romantic.
I must say they succeeded. Since then, the Paris Catacombs have become a favorite gathering place for many artists.
In 19th century France, if writers, musicians, and painters hadn't partied in the catacombs with friends and drank with six million vengeful spirits, they were embarrassed to call themselves part of the French art scene.
Back then, the literati referred to such antics as romantic recklessness, but today it would be likened to dancing on graves...
During World War II, the headquarters of the Paris resistance was also located in the catacombs. This place was like a maze; the Germans would get lost as soon as they entered, and the abundance of bones was intolerable for the average person.
Su Ming's goal was to leverage the catacombs for his operations. It was more concealed than the sewers, and there was also the possibility of encountering allies.
If they could find the domestic French resistance, they could gain a lot of intelligence and support.
After 1961, Paris would be divided into 20 administrative districts. Su Ming, knowing the future information, automatically supplemented the sectional map in his mind, making it easier for him to plan.
The Eiffel Tower, where they had earlier enjoyed the view, was located in Paris' 7th district, while the location where they had previously engaged in a firefight was situated in the northern part of the city, in Zone 17.
There was one entrance to the catacombs here. Through these 20-meters-deep passages, his group could silently traverse through Paris to reach Su Ming's destination, Paris' 4th district.
Since the 4th district is centrally located, the distance to any direction is about the same, with convenient surface transportation and a dense population ideal for hiding.
He guessed that the headquarters of the resistance should be underground there. Once he reached the surface, he could also monitor the skies from the Notre-Dame Cathedral's Clock Tower, killing two birds with one stone.
If he could judge the direction accurately, continuously tunneling on the 20-meter underground horizontal plane to enter the catacombs' passage shouldn't require much effort.
Soon, after Godslayer shattered a layer of stone slabs, an expanse of whiteness appeared before them.
Countless bones were piled up like firewood on both sides of the room, with only a narrow gap in the middle that allowed passage for one person.
The young girls of the X-Men instinctively huddled together, and Secret Guest also moved closer to Su Ming.
Even though they had seen numerous demons and monsters at Hell's border, being surrounded by dense white bones and staring into the hollow eye sockets of hundreds of skulls in this pitch-black underground was undeniably unsettling.
"Alright, we've opened up Zone 17's catacombs. Once we get inside and find the year-marker signpost on the main passage, I'll know how to proceed."
Su Ming sheathed Godslayer, which still shimmered with golden light, albeit now exuding a more intense bloodthirst. Even the symbiote on his body seemed restless.
Apparently there have indeed been too many kills before now...
Apart from Su Ming being completely unaffected, the other unaffected person was Holloway. As a firm atheist and a medical professional, these skeletons triggered his occupational compulsion, prompting him to closely examine their causes of death.
What's there to study? The remains beneath Zone 17 were the first batch of the clients. The bones here either died of the plague or smallpox; there are ready answers.
The deadly viruses that posed a threat to humanity in the past are no longer a concern. Everyone has been inoculated with cowpox and is immune to smallpox. As for the plague, there is now a serum, so even if those ancient viruses were uniquely enduring enough to survive until now, people could comfortably live within the catacombs.
It's just that this eerie atmosphere gives one an uncomfortable feeling.
Su Ming understood this sensation; it was a manifestation of Dark Energy. He had felt something a hundred times denser within Barbatos, akin to a mire.
Just as he was about to remark on the doctor, he heard continual gunfire above, in the sewers.
"That's the sound of German submachine guns, plus the responding fire from Wilson's submachine gun." He immediately identified the source of the sounds as within several hundred meters' radius in the sewer.
Probably not his people; Cable's weapon fire would be much louder. Most others also didn't use guns.
The presence of American equipment movement strongly suggested a Paris guerrilla operation caught up in German pursuit. They might be of use, and Su Ming instantly decided to sell a favor for future intelligence exchange.
"You hold this position, I'll go up and check."
He drew the Great Sword, and from the dug-out passage, he ascended back into the sewer...
...
In the pitch-black sewer, the beams of flashlights swayed incessantly, and invisible bullets whizzed through the air, making hissing sounds as they ricocheted off the slippery, moisture-laden brick surfaces. Nick Fury carried Steve as they fled forward ceaselessly.
Behind them were several soldiers wearing US Army uniforms and a few Frenchmen dressed as workers. As they retreated, they kept firing their weapons, fiercely counterattacking the German soldiers pursuing them.
Occasionally, someone would fall, either emitting a tragic cry or collapsing silently into the sewage beside them, yet Nick was resolved not to die in such a pitch-black place.
He mustered all the strength he could to hold onto Steve's hand, supporting him as they pressed on. Earlier, they'd seen an explosion somewhere in the city; that should be the German's enemy, even if merely an enemy's enemy, they'd desperately need reinforcements right now.
But he had to admit, navigating through the sewers was a forced measure.
He didn't know where the exit was or how long they could keep running, but now there was no traceable path back.
Their group's ammunition was running low, whereas the German soldiers seemed unending.
Peggy Carter was also in the squad, sporting a pilot-style brown leather jacket and wielding a submachine gun with one hand for coverage, as her other arm had taken two bullets, unhelpfully bandaged with a shirt which wasn't stopping the bleeding.
Blood loss and pain were causing her to start feeling dizzy, and the sights on her gun muzzle wavered repeatedly.
"Nick, you get Steve out of here. He can't fall into German hands. I'll cover the rear with the French comrades!"
Peggy grit her teeth and loaded a new magazine. She already didn't want to run anymore. Back when Steve agreed to the transformation experiments, he had said to her in the car,
'Once you start running, they won't let you stop. The only thing you can do is stand and fight back.'
The Germans were just like that now. She was a well-trained agent, yet even she was out of stamina, let alone the ever-food-deprived Paris guerrillas.
Even if they weren't wounded, these warriors were hanging by a thread.
However, the Germans' semi-mechanical soldiers didn't understand fatigue; they could pursue to the ends of the earth.
Nick Fury's face, already dark, turned even darker. He panted heavily, "Steve can't lose you; if he wakes up to find you sacrificed, he might no longer be under corps control. That way, we'd effectively lose both of you, sending the Colonel into fits."
Other soldiers, while firing back, chuckled grimly, agreeing with Nick, noting that the older Colonel probably couldn't handle the shock, as the Super Soldier was SSR's precious treasure. Losing him wouldn't only make him urinate blood, but spout blood!
Peggy Carter fired into the dark passage behind her and immediately took cover behind a sewer pillar, narrowly escaping the tidal wave of bullets that followed her firing shot, which gave away her location.
The bullets dislodged the putrid surface layer on the brick cover, and an unlucky French guerilla fell silently in front of her.
"You're too controlling, Steve isn't a weapon, he's a person with his own judgment. He'll do the right thing; even if I die, he'll continue to fight."
"Perhaps, but right now, let the Roaring Assault Team and me manage the scene. You lead the French people and Steve to retreat!"
Nick Fury handed Steve over to Carter, picked up a dropped submachine gun from the corpses nearby, joining the standoff.
Calculating value and timely loss cutting are fundamental to a spy's job.
The only US Super Soldier and the woman he deeply loved, as well as the Paris underground resistance ally, hold far more value than he and the Roaring Assault Team, a bunch of ordinary soldiers. Such straightforward calculations didn't need further thought to reach a conclusion.
Special Agent Fury was now about to carry out his final task, securing at least three minutes for his comrades.