Two days had passed since they arrived at the Nefarious Cavern.
For Alex and his squad, the routine had become a mix of tense boredom and occasional horror. Their mission was to patrol the perimeter of the Dark Water extractor, ensuring the machinery pumped the corrupt liquid without interruptions.
Fortunately, there were no major incidents, save for the occasional visits from the "Ghosts."
That was what they called the strange apparitions haunting the area: twisted echoes of the previous group of miners who had been directly exposed to Dark Water without protection. They weren't alive, but they didn't seem dead either.
"Here comes another one," Alex alerted over the comms.
A translucent and erratic figure was approaching the pumps.
Nothing a Terror Slug (in its Ghoul form) couldn't solve. Alex fired. The creature impacted near the specter, projecting a nightmare illusion that was enough to scare it away amidst silent shrieks. Alex had noticed that physical slugs simply passed through their bodies as if they were smoke, yet he still saw those specters lifting tools and rocks.
"How does their physics work?" Alex wondered, lowering his blaster. "They can touch objects, but shots go right through them. Is their intangibility voluntary?"
He genuinely felt pity for them. He didn't know if becoming a wandering specter was worse or better than simply melting away from toxic radiation. What he was sure of was that, under no circumstances, would he take off his NBC suit. Dark Water was an element that defied natural laws, and he didn't want to be the next experiment.
The shift ended, and the group took refuge in a sealed zone to rest. They removed their helmets, revealing sweaty and tired faces.
"You know... we really stink," commented Diego, one of the squadmates, sniffing his own armpit with disgust. "We haven't had a decent shower in two days. We can only clean ourselves with those damn wet wipes from the train."
"Be grateful you have filters in your mask," replied another soldier, opening a food ration. "If not for them, we'd have died from the sulfur stench by now... or from your own smell."
The group let out a tired laugh. In extreme situations, shared humor and complaining were the only things maintaining morale.
"Hey," Diego asked, "what made you guys join Blakk Industries?"
The question hung in the air. It was a delicate subject.
"In my case, Blakk Industries arrived at my cavern just when I needed it most," replied Diego, looking at a crumpled photo he pulled from his pocket. "They offered me good benefits and security. The pay isn't bad, but I miss my girlfriend. I can't wait to go back."
"Lucky you," intervened the cynical soldier of the group, an older man with scars ("The Old Man"). "At least you have a pretty girl waiting for you at home. I joined simply because I was about to die of hunger."
The veteran took a bite of his protein bar and continued, his voice bitter:
"You know, ever since the old Will Shane disappeared, everything went to hell. Several caverns fell to gangs of criminals and raiders. It was total chaos. At least Blakk... even if he isn't a saint and his methods are brutal, he offers order."
"Order?" questioned Diego.
"Yes, order. Bandits take everything and kill you for fun. Blakk treats you like a useful resource. He offers you food, money, and a purpose. He doesn't try to control you with brute force alone; he gives you something to lose. For me, having a full stomach is loyalty enough."
Eyes then turned to the newest member.
"And you, Alex?" asked Diego. "You're the youngest of us and the best shot. Why are you here?"
Alex finished chewing, carefully thinking over his answer. He couldn't tell them the truth. He couldn't tell them he came from another world and that Blakk was his only ticket back.
"Dr. Blakk has something I need," said Alex simply, maintaining a mysterious tone. "He promised to give it to me in exchange for my work."
He summarized his purpose without lying, but without revealing anything either.
"It's a fair deal," added Alex, putting his helmet back on. "He gets a soldier, I get my reward."
There was no need to go shouting from the rooftops: "Hey, I'm an interdimensional traveler, look at me!" In Slugterra, information was power, and Alex intended to keep his well-guarded.
The patrol continued its course, moving further away from the main camp. Being the reconnaissance squad assigned to the outer perimeter, Alex and his team were the furthest from the Dark Water extraction pump.
The cavern's tense silence was shattered instantly.
All four communication devices beeped at once. A sharp, synchronized screech that froze the soldiers' blood. As they pulled them out and looked at the screens, the message flashed in bright red:
[MAXIMUM ALERT: ATTACK ON MAIN CAMP]
"Shit!" exclaimed one of Alex's companions, slapping his thigh in frustration. "What the hell are the other squads supposed to be doing? How did they let intruders through?"
"They were probably sleeping or playing cards," complained Diego, loading his blaster nervously. "Incompetent..."
Without wasting time, the four unholstered their weapons. Survival instinct and basic training kicked in, and the group began advancing rapidly back toward the base.
They adopted a standard tactical formation. The older man, the squad leader, headed the march with his eyes fixed forward. On the flanks were Diego and the other soldier, covering the sides. Alex took the rear, walking backward in stretches and watching the group's back to prevent a surprise attack.
"Who the hell is attacking?" asked Diego, breathing heavily. "Is it raiders? The Shane Gang?"
"How many intruders?" added the other. "The moron who sent the report didn't put the number. We don't know if we're up against five or fifty."
"Shut up, both of you!" ordered the Old Man with a rasping voice, without stopping. "Maintain radio discipline. Stay sharp, they could ambush us at any moment."
Alex, noticing the tension in the leader's shoulders, spoke to calm nerves.
"Relax, old timer. I've got your six. You just guide us."
As they approached the base, the sounds of battle stopped being distant echoes and became real thunder. The characteristic hum of slugs transforming at 100 miles per hour and energy impacts resonated louder and louder in the cave, making the ground vibrate beneath their boots.
Suddenly, a massive explosion shook the cavern walls, followed by a tremor.
Alex stopped dead in his tracks, recognizing the unmistakable sound of a Rammstone slug (a Demolition slug).
"Why the hell are those idiots using demolition slugs here?" shouted Alex over the comms, incredulous at the tactical recklessness. "Are they morons? If they blow up the extractor, we'll all die from Dark Water exposure!"
Alex's anger was genuine. Attacking was one thing, but using explosives next to a refinery of unstable and mutagenic material was suicide.
"Have those idiots not read the Safety Protocol?!" bellowed Alex, picking up the pace. "We have to stop them before they kill us all by accident!"
"Aaaaaah! Get on the train! Move it, you worms!"
The hysterical scream resonated above the roar of the explosions.
When Alex's squad finally arrived at the Dark Water extraction pump zone, they were met with a scene that was both worrying and infuriating. Chaos reigned in the camp.
El Diablos Nacho, who was supposed to be the supreme commander of this operation, Blakk's feared enforcer, was running toward the locomotive. He wasn't directing a counterattack, nor organizing a strategic defense. He was fleeing. He was screaming frantic orders at the nearby troops to get on the train and abandon the position.
Alex paused a moment, observing the pathetic scene of his leader beating a retreat.
"Phew-whee," Alex whistled, admiring the speed with which the giant moved those skinny legs.
"There goes our appetizer," Alex said with venomous sarcasm, mocking his commander's name. "Turns out nachos are fast food after all."
However, the laughter was short-lived. The reality of the situation hit them immediately.
Even if Alex's squad wanted to retreat, they couldn't. It was physically impossible. They were coming from the outer perimeter, and the train was at the central loading dock.
Between their position and the train, was the enemy.
Flashes of energy, slugs, and explosions marked the position of the intruders, who had taken control of half the field, effectively cutting off the escape route for Alex and his men. They watched as the train doors began to close and the levitation engines fired up. Nacho was leaving, with or without them.
"They left us behind," said the Old Man, the squad leader, his voice grave. "We're cut off."
They were trapped in the Nefarious Cavern, a toxic and hostile place, with an unknown (and likely heroic) enemy blocking the only exit and an unstable Dark Water extractor nearby.
Alex gripped his blaster, feeling the weight of the decision. There was no retreat. There was no rescue.
"Well, gentlemen," said Alex, disengaging the safety on his weapon. "We only have one option left."
He looked at his companions, whose faces reflected the fear of imminent death.
"Fight and win. Or we die here."
BLAKK INDUSTRIES - PERSONNEL FILE: CLASSIFIED
Name: El Diablos Nacho
Origin: Deep Caverns (Zone categorized as extremely hostile. Subject accessed the 99 Caverns following a direct deal with Dr. Blakk. Exact terms of the agreement remain sealed.)
Age: Unknown.
Note: Subject's physiology presents no reliable indicators of aging.
Physiology:
Height: 6'7" (2 m).
Psychological Observation: Impulsive nature, low frustration tolerance, and limited patience. Tends to react with violence to minor provocations, especially those related to his physical appearance. Exhibits excessive hubris that interferes with his judgment.
Special Ability: [Super Strength / Super Durability]
Description: Brute physical capacity far above standard parameters. The subject is capable of stopping a Rammstone slug dead in its tracks using only his bare hands. His bodily resilience is comparable to his strength: not only does his skull present extreme hardness, but his entire body requires prolonged and continuous punishment to be incapacitated.
Side Effects: Functional cognitive impairment. Subject shows limited intelligence and frequent situational ineptitude. Relies almost exclusively on brute force and is incapable of developing his own plans. Requires constant supervision.
Threat Level:
Lethality Index: 4/10 (Low). Although he presents no significant moral qualms regarding the possibility of killing, his operational stupidity and inflated pride often lead him to spare weakened opponents. The subject interprets this as mockery or an assertion of personal superiority, not as mercy.
Tactical Index: 2/10 (Low). Almost total lack of strategic thinking. Pursues enemies without evaluating risks, falls into traps recurrently, and repeats operational errors with regularity. Considered highly manipulatable.
Weaponry and Preferences:
Signature Slug: (Varied).