[Red Line Transit Hub, Sub-Level 3 — Zone Two | Fantasy Day 2, 00:03]
The maintenance hatch groaned, shedding decades of rust in flaking orange sheets as Ren forced it open.
Cold, stagnant air drifted up from the shaft immediately. Suffocating. It carried the heavy metallic scent of old blood layered over something older underneath, standing water that had been sitting in sealed concrete for days with fourteen dead men's worth of material dissolving into it. 1
Ren descended the iron ladder first. His boots echoed faintly in the narrow cylinder. Behind him, Chloe's military-issue flashlight carved a trembling path through the gloom, the beam bouncing with each rung she grabbed.
They stepped off into ankle-deep water.
The cold hit instantly and violently, a full-body shock that climbed straight up Ren's legs and informed the rest of him about its intentions. 2
