The dim glow of the tunnel barely pierced the oppressive gloom as Amara stood, blood still wet and sticky on her hands. The air hung thick and heavy, a metallic tang biting at her nostrils, a grim reminder of what they'd endured. Flickering, erratic lights cast long, dancing shadows, stretching like skeletal fingers down the narrow passage, leading only to an uncertain darkness ahead. Her mind, a whirlwind of confusion and a strange, cold relief, wrestled with the grim reality. She watched Tamisra, a figure of grim determination, hurrying through the passage, her shoulders hunched. Amara knew. Knew it with a certainty that chilled her to the bone, even though Tamisra hadn't uttered a single word. They were utterly, hopelessly lost.
"Hey, Tammy, it's still not too late," Amara called out, her voice a desperate whisper against the echoing silence. "We could still call him..."
"No!" Tamisra snapped back, her voice raw, sharp as a broken piece of metal.
Amara pressed her lips together, startled by the sudden ferocity. She'd known Tamisra longer and deeper than any of their other colleagues. Their deaths, fresh wounds in Amara's soul, had torn her apart. She knew Tamisra hurt too, a silent, internal agony the other woman rarely betrayed. Tamisra wasn't expressive, never had been. But now, this snap, this raw anger... Amara saw it. Tamisra was afraid. Truly, deeply afraid. Or perhaps, something far worse.
"Can you try contacting our guys above again?" Tamisra spun around, catching Amara off guard. Her face was pale, drawn tight with a desperate hope that pierced Amara's heart.
"We've tried this five times before," Amara replied, her voice flat, devoid of any real expectation. "It's not going to work."
Tamisra's shoulders slumped, her brief surge of hope extinguished. She turned and continued walking, Amara hearing her mutter venomously under her breath, a string of curses against the echoing rock.
"You know Claw won't be happy," Amara ventured, the words heavy in the suffocating air, "now that the lieutenant is dead. And all the others."
Tamisra slowed, turning her head slightly, her gaze a cold, piercing sliver. "What are you trying to say?" Her voice was low now, resigned, but with an undercurrent of something dangerous.
"We need to finish the job," Amara said with a finality that brooked no argument.
"What the hell, is it that hard for you to see?!" Tamisra stopped dead, her voice suddenly booming, reverberating off the curved stone. "That man doesn't want us to bring that girl to him!" She turned to Amara fully now, her eyes wide with a terror Amara had never seen before. "I don't know what he wants, and I'm just better off not knowing. This whole thing... it's wrong."
"But we need the money, Tammy," Amara insisted, closing the distance between them, pleading with her eyes.
"Good. We'll pick up new assignments once we get up there," Tamisra said, her face a stern mask, yet her gaze softened slightly as she tried to console her friend, a flicker of the old Tamisra.
"And do you know how to get out of here?" Amara challenged, her desperation turning to a biting edge.
Tamisra faltered, her eyes flicking towards the darkened end of the tunnel. "We'll have to figure that out together."
Amara wasn't satisfied, not even close. She nodded absently, her mind already racing through desperate alternatives. She took a moment, subtly, to pull her archaic comms device from her pocket, turning it on. A faint, light-red blink pulsed from it before she shoved it back, its presence a secret burden in her palm, and hurried to catch up with her friend.
The black, viscous sludge flowed from tiny cracks in the massive, corroded pipes that surrounded them now, its strong, pungent odor enough to make their stomachs churn. But they were hardened to it, their bodies accustomed to the city's underbelly. Yet, beneath that familiar stench, something else caught Amara's nose: the faint, cloying smell of decay, ancient and utterly alien.
The deeper they ventured, the more unsettling the architecture became. Angles seemed to twist unnaturally, the impossible geometries defying logic and reason, warring with the very concept of solid ground. Amara could feel her knees buckle, her vision blurring at the edges, and she stumbled, drawing a concerned, questioning look from Tamisra.
"Something's wrong here," Amara murmured, narrowing her eyes, straining to pierce the dimness. She wasn't sure if it was her sight playing tricks, but the shadows seemed to dance, not just from the flickering lights, but with a strange, independent life. "I don't like this."
They came across a body then, thin and wizened, its face frozen in a permanent, grotesque scream. Tamisra squatted beside it, her movements slow and cautious. There were no visible injuries – no stab wounds, no strangulation marks. Perplexed, she leaned closer. A dozen ashy fingerprints marred the dead face, smudged across the cheeks, the forehead, the chin. A faint, almost silent hymn reached her ears, a chilling hum from somewhere nearby. Tamisra slowly lowered her gaze, following the sound. It was the body's mouth, barely agape, from which the faint, irregular hum emanated. Carefully, she brushed a finger against the ashy substance, sampling it. It was nothing she recognized, nothing from this world. As she prepared to stand, a sickening realization jolted through her. The wide, vacant eyes of the corpse were no longer staring blankly at the tunnel ceiling. They were trained, unblinking, on her. Tamisra recoiled, scrambling backwards, her guard instantly up.
A single drop of black sewer sludge splattered onto her cheek, making her jump, a strangled cry escaping her lips.
"Are you okay?" The voice from behind startled her, and Tamisra snapped back, facing a confused Amara.
"Ye… Yes. Let's… let's just get out of here," Tamisra muttered, rubbing her forehead as if to erase the disturbing image. Amara glanced at the body, which now looked unsettlingly normal again, but she could still hear it, a faint, irregular hymn echoing from deeper within the tunnel.
"This place is a graveyard," Tamisra grumbled as they resumed walking, before offering a strained smile back at Amara. "Try not to join in."
Amara nodded absently, surprised by the sudden shift in Tamisra's demeanor. She kept silent, the secret knowledge of the comms device a metallic taste in her mouth. She knew of a desperate solution, one Tamisra would despise, but she would bide her time until things went truly, irrevocably south.
The tunnel finally opened into a vast, decaying underground station. A skeletal framework of collapsed metal beams, shattered glass, and massive, mangled train cars stretched into the impenetrable gloom. The stench of old oil mingled with something indescribably rotten, assaulting their nostrils with a visceral force.
Tamisra scanned the grimy floor, and a slow, cautious look of relief spread across her face. There, etched in the thick layer of grime, were footprints. Fresh. Izari and his pack had been here.
"Thank goodness," she breathed, the relief making her voice tremble.
Amara gave her an uneasy glance, her fear warring with her crumbling trust in Tamisra's judgment. But she didn't question her, not yet. She just followed.
"Then let's do what's right," Amara stated, looking around the cavernous space, "we need to get out of here, and only he knows the way."
"We can't go back to that man," Tamisra cried, her voice cracking, echoing wildly through the vast space. "We just can't! You've seen what he can do, he's capable of doing the job himself! I don't know why he hired us to do it, but I don't want to be anywhere near him again!" She turned to Amara, her eyes pleading, wet with unshed tears. "I deeply care about you. You know that, right?"
Tamisra was spiraling, her composure fracturing under the weight of their predicament. "There's another way, my way," she snapped, desperate.
"Well, I've been following 'your way'," Amara retorted, her voice rising, "and look where we are, huh?"
"I'm just following the tracks left behind by that rebel and his friends!" Tamisra jabbed a trembling finger at the footprints on the floor.
Amara was shocked by the admission, her mind reeling. She was quiet for a moment before pushing, "So are we still going to take on the assignment once we get to them?"
Tamisra didn't answer, didn't even look at her. Her gaze was fixed on a large, open metallic door where the footprints converged. "Follow me," she ordered, the words clipped, leaving no room for argument. Amara, seething but compliant, followed her out of the expansive, haunted underground hall.
Just as they stepped into the new opening, plunging into absolute, suffocating darkness, a distorted voice ripped through the silence, crackling over the comms. A jarring, alien intrusion.
"Return... Now."
It was the Seer. Tamisra spun around, her head snapping towards where she'd heard the voice emanate from. "You didn't," she whispered, her voice laced with disbelief and betrayal.
"I had to," Amara pleaded, the darkness pressing in, amplifying her desperation. "We need a way out, we need the money. Or else everything, including their deaths, will be for nothing." She took a bold step forward, her eyes straining to adjust. "You have to understand, we are powerless down here. And whether you like it or not, we need the Seer. We are going to find the girl, bring her to him, get paid, and then we get out of here."
"You don't understand," Tamisra replied, her voice choked with rising dread. "I've taken many jobs, Amara, but none have been this weird. This part of the city is deserted for a reason." She paused, her ragged breathing audible in the pitch black. "I heard stories back on the surface about this strange cult down here, the bizarre things that happen. When we got down here, I saw it for myself. All I'm saying is that yes, I know that man saved my life twice, but that doesn't change the fact that he is a part of whatever that cult is. They were right about this place." Tamisra whimpered, her voice suddenly childish and fragile. "Amara, the only people we can trust are each other, okay?"
Silence. Only the rapid, terrified beat of Tamisra's own heart.
"Amara!" she called out, her voice a desperate plea. No one answered. "Amara, answer me!" Still nothing. The darkness felt sentient, pressing in, an impossible weight. "We are going to die if we don't stick together!" she pleaded, flailing her arms wildly in the void, trying to grasp anything, anyone. But there was nothing. Only empty, cold air.
"Help!" she screamed, her voice tearing in her throat, a choked, terrified sound. She tried to move, to run, but her feet wouldn't respond. She was trapped in the unyielding black.
Something in the darkness responded. Long, slender fingers, glowing with a sickly, phosphorescent green, reached out. They grasped her, cold and impossibly strong, pulling her down instantly, silently, before she could even let out a final, tearing scream for help. The last thing Tamisra knew was the sharp, metallic tang of the air and the crushing, absolute darkness.