"How do you want to do it?" Dante asked as they got back into position—right in the corridor where they'd come under fire earlier.
Spider opened the pouch on his right thigh and arranged his blades so he could grab them at a moment's notice. His movements were calm, precise—routine.
"Give them a little surprise," he replied. Spider was so relaxed, it was as if he were preparing for something mundane. Like making dinner or something. Then he pulled out a hole punch and took a letter opener in his other hand—both improvised weapons, but no less deadly in his hands than any assault rifle. He shot Dante a scrutinizing look.
"You know how to shoot? We need to disarm them and take them out as quickly as possible. It's starting to get a little too cozy for my taste."
For once, Dante had to agree.
The air was getting worse, the hallways clouded with dark smoke. The floor below hadn't been on fire when they'd left it, but the smoke didn't seem to care. It wouldn't be long before anyone up here would die of smoke inhalation in a matter of minutes.
And that's not even mentioning the heat.
Spider was already breathing heavily, Helios probably wouldn't last long either, and Dante had no idea how his body would react once there was no more oxygen left. He wasn't particularly eager to keep waking up just to die of oxygen deprivation again and again. That was seriously getting on his nerves.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead. "I can shoot. I just prefer close combat."
"Perfect. Then let's take those idiots out quickly," Spider said bluntly, tossing the hole punch down the corridor.
The metallic clang as it hit the floor echoed loudly through the hallway. Before the enemies could react, Spider leaned around the corner and hurled the letter opener and two of his knives in quick succession. In the same breath, he drew two more blades and charged—faster than Dante would have thought possible.
The first bodies were still falling as Spider was already going for the next target.
If Dante had ever doubted that an assassin could be useful in a frontal assault, that doubt was now thoroughly buried. Spider was damn skilled.
Dante didn't hesitate a second longer. He followed, leaping over the first bodies sprawled across the floor. Screams echoed through the hallway as Spider took down two more enemies with surgical precision. Blood sprayed, blades sliced through flesh, and gurgling throats failed in their final attempts to draw breath.
Normally, Dante could have left the fight entirely to Spider—but there were still too many enemies, and they didn't have much time left.
He stepped over the corpses already lying on the ground and used the open space in front of the guards to build up a bit more speed before reaching them.
Dante charged forward and slammed his fist into the face of a guard who had his weapon aimed at Spider. The guard's jaw cracked audibly, and he crashed against the wall. Dante followed up with three powerful punches until the body collapsed to the floor.
With a bit of luck, the guard was dead. That would be better for him—because Dante certainly wasn't going to drag any of them out of this complex. His priority was Helios, and after everything they'd witnessed down here, he no longer wanted any of the researchers or guards to survive.
"Dante!" Spider suddenly shouted, shoving one of the enemies toward him.
Dante—startled to hear Spider actually use his name—instinctively turned around and drove his fist straight into the face of the man flying at him. He made short work of him too.
He snatched the guard's pistol and fired it at three men to his left, landing headshots with precision. The weapon clicked empty, and without a second thought, he tossed it to the floor. Then he hurled one of the men into two others who had been charging at Spider.
His body moved entirely on its own.
The rhythm of action and reaction was second nature to him now. He had fought so many battles like this one. The conditions were rarely ideal. Fights broke out suddenly, with little time to plan your next move.
Still, he couldn't remember a time when the conditions had ever been this bad. The air was thick and murky; he could barely see what was happening in front of him. His instincts were working at full capacity—every punch landed before he could consciously register the movement.
And it felt good. Despite the time pressure, the fight calmed him. All the tension that had built up over the last few hours began to dissolve with every blow he dealt. If it weren't for the fire smoldering on the floors below, he might even have enjoyed the fight.
Not having to watch over Helios for once gave him a real sense of freedom. All he had to focus on was the fight in front of him—Spider could take care of himself. He noted the men Spider had already taken down and the fluid grace of his movements as he dodged the next attacks.
It was almost admirable how elegantly he guided his blade into the throats of his victims.
Being an assassin apparently came with a flair for graceful knife work—or maybe it was just Spider's particular way of fighting.
They fought back-to-back, reacting to every guard who came at them directly, as well as those who targeted the other. Dante still absolutely couldn't stand Spider, but he had to admit—they really did work well together in combat.
They didn't get in each other's way, and they covered one another instinctively.
"Your brute force almost has a certain charm," Spider called out with amusement, coughing from the smoke. "Crude—but effective."
Dante rolled his eyes. He held back a comment and, in irritation, hurled another enemy in Spider's direction. Spider just laughed—but his laughter quickly turned into a fit of coughing. The air was thick and burned in their lungs.
The smoke was getting denser. It burned in their chests, blinded their sight, sliced through every movement like an invisible veil of poison.
They had to get out. Fast. A few more minutes, and the fight wouldn't be the only thing that could cost them their lives.
Dante grabbed the nearest weapon and gunned down four more men—another empty magazine. He looked around and crouched to grab another gun. They had taken out the guards. No one was standing, and Dante was sure they were all dead.
Scattered across the floor were the office supplies Spider had taken earlier.
Spider had looped one of Helios' shoelaces around the neck of a guard who was still struggling desperately to avoid being killed. Spider dragged him toward the metal door, which was still locked.
"I'll get Helios! You open the door!" Dante shouted through the stifling, shimmering air.
"Hurry up!" Spider shouted back, also coughing, but not slowing down.
Dante was just about to run when he heard footsteps approaching from the far end of the hallway—heavy, fast, armed. More guards. At least half a dozen.
"Fuck!" he spat.
Spider let go of the gasping guard, who slumped to the floor. "Of. Fucking. Course. There are more of them!" he growled as he launched himself toward the next wave of enemies without hesitation.
The guards were caught off guard by Spider's sudden assault.
They had to take them down quickly and get Helios. The air was getting worse by the second. Spider stayed low to the ground and only rose to his full height when absolutely necessary.
Dante followed his lead.
He moved after Spider, and once the enemies came into clearer view, he shot them—just like the others before. He aimed for their heads but the current situation made it hard to hit his target. Instead he shot their faces, breast or abdomen, depending on how his eyes burned or if he had to cough between shots. Dante didn't even cared for it, some shot might not be deadly but they hurt and would make the guards slower. He kept swapping weapons, one after the other, until those guards were down too.
By now, the hallway was littered with bodies, and Dante noted with frustration that the already limited space for moving around was now completely blocked.
Dante coughed and lowered himself further, where the air was still halfway breathable. His throat burned, and his eyes were watering.
"Go, get him! I'll be fine!" Spider shouted hoarsely, before another fit of coughing overtook him.
He rushed toward the metal door while Dante made his way to Helios. His eyes were watering, his forehead soaked with sweat, and his clothes clung to his body. He kept coughing—his height was definitely a disadvantage in a fire like this.
Finally, he reached the door. Dante pushed it open—it wasn't locked, thankfully—and stormed into the room. Inside: dim light. Smoke. And on the floor, curled up, lay Helios. A cloth covered his face. For a moment, Dante's heart stopped.
"Helios!" he called out in panic, his eyes fixed on the motionless body.
Everything else he'd witnessed up to this point—the torture, all the blood in that other room—suddenly didn't matter. If he lost Helios now, it would all be for nothing.
He rushed to him, grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him up. "Damn it, wake up!"
But the moment he shook him, Helios opened his eyes and slowly sat up.
"Relax. I'm okay," he said calmly. His voice was muffled, patient—almost unfazed—behind the makeshift face covering.
Dante stared at him, blinking. For a second, he was speechless. "Damn, I thought you were unconscious," he said, visibly relieved.
Helios looked at him for a moment. Dante couldn't quite read his expression.
"The smoke was too thick. There's more oxygen near the floor," he explained, rubbing his reddened eyes. He coughed quietly. "We should go."
Dante nodded and lifted him up. His foot was still badly swollen.
Helios had wrapped his coat tightly around himself, the sleeves rolled up, the belt of his trench coat tied in a knot. As Dante held him more securely, he noticed that Helios wasn't wearing his shirt. His pale skin stood in stark contrast to the dark blue coat.
Dante's gaze fell on the cloth Helios had tied around his mouth. So that's why he'd taken off the shirt. But Dante seriously doubted that a thin layer of shirt fabric could filter out much smoke.
Dante coughed again, a sharp scratch in his throat as he inhaled.
"Wait, take me to the table first," Helios said before they could leave the room. "When I prepped everything for the break-in here, I should've thought about filters that could handle smoke. I still can't believe our gas masks are completely useless in a fire."
"It's not your fault—the heat melted the filters."
"But I should've accounted for that," Helios said, audibly frustrated. There was more anger in his voice directed at himself than at the situation.
He pulled another cloth from his coat and poured water over it, then tied it around Dante's head. He repeated the process, this time holding the wet rag in his hand—presumably meant for Spider. Then he grabbed his shoes and gave Dante a nod.
The wet cloth felt strange, but at least that dry, stinging sensation in his nose was gone, and the heat didn't burn as much anymore. Now it only scorched his skin and eyes.
"These cloths should give us some protection on the way out. If they dry out, we're in trouble," Helios warned. "We better move."
Dante started running.
"Try to stay lower or you'll pass out and keep dying down here until you get enough air to breathe again."
"Easier said than done," Dante gasped. His breathing grew harsher, more shallow. The heat pressed against his lungs like a clenched fist.
"If you collapse, we're not getting out of here," Helios warned, his voice urgent. Then came more coughing—this time harder, tighter. His voice was losing strength, but his eyes remained sharp. They constantly scanned the space—or watched Dante.
Dante pushed forward, running blindly through the smoke, hoping for the end of the corridor and finally reaching the metal door. But it was hard to find since everything was lost in smoke and darkness.
Helios's gaze finally settled on Dante.
And Dante was acutely aware of it.
They didn't say anything for a while.
"Are you okay?" Helios asked.
Dante nodded and kept moving. He was relieved Helios was alright, but he couldn't talk to him yet. Not until he'd sorted out his thoughts. They had to get out of here—and once they were safe and treated, then things could continue.
Besides, they had to protect themselves now.
Helios coughed quietly.
Dante kept pushing forward, but it was getting harder with each step. His breathing became more labored, and even though the cloth now moistened the air he inhaled, he could feel it drying out quickly.
His eyes burned, his vision blurred, and the smoke seemed to eagerly fill his lungs. The annoying urge to cough just wouldn't go away. From time to time, he felt like he was about to collapse—but his healing seemed to be kicking in just fast enough.
At least he was still able to put one foot in front of the other. That didn't mean he could let himself weaken. He could regenerate. Helios couldn't.
And if he was already doing this badly, then Helios was definitely worse off.
Dante clenched his teeth and forced himself to keep going. The smoke was now impenetrable—pitch black and thick like oil. It was absurd—this entire complex was made of stone walls, and most of the furniture was metal or glass. What the hell could even catch fire this fast?
It shouldn't be burning like this. Someone had definitely helped it along, and if he was right, their primary goal was to kill every single person in the facility. That was the most likely explanation.
Dante focused on that thought to distract himself—until, coughing violently, he finally found the metal door leading to the exit. The bodies were still lying on the floor, but arranged in such a way that there was a clear path through.
Definitely Spider's doing. Who else would clear the way for him?
Dante gathered the last of his strength for a desperate sprint. Every step hurt, his legs felt like they would snap with the next movement. The heat burned in his chest, as if his lungs were splitting open. But he ran. He had to.
He reached the door, shoved it open with a final surge of strength, and stepped through. Quickly he closed it. The air felt directly cooler. Still smoky—but cooler. Air that was at least somewhat breathable compared to what they'd left behind.
Dante hoped the closed door would hold the fire back—at least for a while.
His legs felt like lead, his lungs like scorched dust. He gasped for breath, coughing violently, trying to blink the burning from his eyes. Every motion cost energy. Too much. But amid the exhaustion, he felt it again—that familiar tingling. His cells were repairing themselves, restoring what had broken down.
I'll get you out of here, he told himself. Again and again, like a silent mantra.
He coughed loudly. Spider was nowhere to be seen. Not that it mattered where that guy was—right now, he had to save himself and Helios. Spider could take care of himself.
Dante blinked several times against the burning in his eyes. He hoped the metal door would hold the fire at bay. His vision was starting to clear, and breathing became easier.
Only now did he truly start to appreciate what it meant to be able to breathe.
Helios coughed violently in his arms, so Dante quickened his pace. The air was no longer scorching, but smoke still lingered.
And Dante wouldn't stop for even a single step—not until Helios had some fresh air.
"We're almost outside. Just hang on a little longer!" Dante said, his voice now clearer than it had been before. His cells were regenerating at their usual lightning speed.
"Where…is Spider?" Helios asked between intense coughing fits.
"No idea," Dante answered honestly, as he reached the stairs leading up.
He had no damn idea where Spider was—and honestly, he didn't care. He charged up the stairs. With every step, he grew stronger, and it didn't take long before he felt more or less normal again.
Stronger and steadier, that damn weakness faded completely. He was himself again. He sprinted down the hallway toward the library and slammed the door open. Helios coughed violently once more.
"Damn…" he muttered with a raw, weak voice.
"Sorry, but we have to get out of here," Dante replied curtly.
"There you are!" came Spider's voice suddenly, little more than a hoarse rasp. He was standing to the side of a bookshelf, leaning on it and coughing. "Shit… I thought you weren't gonna make it out."
"If you hadn't cleared the bodies out of the way, we probably wouldn't have," Dante said, giving him a brief look. "Thanks."
Spider raised an eyebrow and stared at him in disbelief—as if he couldn't quite process the fact that Dante had actually just said thank you.
"No problem," he replied eventually, with a hint of his usual cocky tone—though his face was pale with exhaustion.
Helios let out another painful gasp, his coughing fits worsening.
Spider glanced at the young man in Dante's arms with concern. "We should get outside. The air in here is still way too thick."
Dante nodded silently and looked down at Helios, whose breathing had grown labored. He had torn the cloth from his face long ago—probably because it had taken away what little oxygen he had left. Without hesitation, Dante marched toward the library's exit—the last barrier between them and the cool, life-saving night air.
Spider was faster. He rushed ahead, braced himself against the door, kicked it open, and held it for them. Dante followed, still carrying Helios in his arms.
The moment they were outside, Helios inhaled the fresh air greedily—but instead of relief, it only triggered another violent coughing fit. His whole body trembled, the pain etched clearly across his face.
Dante spoke to him in a calm, soothing voice—he didn't know what else to do. He himself now felt like he'd just had a long, refreshing nap: healthy, alert, full of energy. While Helios gasped for breath, they made their way back toward the hotel.
Spider was unusually quiet. He kept coughing and moved more slowly than usual. He was staying on his feet—but only barely. Dante had to stop several times to wait for him.
By the time they finally reached the hotel, the city was already in chaos. Sirens wailed in the distance, and the glowing red sky behind them marked the place they had left behind. The library was on fire—along with everything that had been hidden within it.
Dante was glad the hotel was far enough from the blaze. It meant they could tend to their wounds in peace, without having to worry that the flames would reach them too.