The stairs went down longer that they should have.
Concrete steps, worn smooth by feet that no longer existed, spiraled into the earth in wide, patient turns. Moss crept along the edges, glowing faintly where droplets of water clung and refracted the dim light above. With every step, the air grew heavier, cooler, richer, threaded with the scent of soil and old metal.
Then the Metros opened.
The Fox slowed down to a stop at the final step, one hand braced against the railing, breath catching despite herself.
Below her stretched an enormous complex, a hollowed cavern of civilization reclaimed. Wide floors spread outward like plazas, broken into clusters of rooms and open halls. Escalators lay frozen mid-rise, overtaken by roots and hanging vines. Storefronts, once glass and neon, were now dark alcoves draped in leaves, their signs cracked and unreadable.
It must have been a shopping district once.
A place of crowds and noise. Of excess.
Now it felt like a forest that had learned how to wear concrete.
Trees grew where kiosks might have stood, their trunks splitting through tiled floors, branches brushing the ceiling far above. Birds flitted between them, strange, long winged things with iridescent feathers, settling into nests tucked high among leaves and broken beams. From somewhere overhead came a soft chirping, the thin, insistent sounds of younglings calling to parents that answered in low, warbling notes.
Life, layered atop ruin.
Corridors branched endlessly from the central floor. Stairways led both up and down, some intact, others collapsed into rubble-choked slopes. Nothing marked a correct direction. No signage survived long enough to guide her.
For the first time since entering the Metros, uncertainty settled fully into her chest.
She stood there, listening.
Then—static.
Soft. Familiar. Almost gentle.
[Fox] "M.A.R.S.?"
She whispered, barely daring to hope.
The voice came through thin and strained, as if carried across water and stone.
[M.A.R.S.]
"Do not concern yourself with which path you take. As long as you continue downward."
"At sufficient depth, all routes converge. A transmission hub. That is where the husk resides."
A pause. The static crackled once more.
[M.A.R.S.]
"I cannot remain."
And just like that, the voice was gone.
The silence rushed back in, thicker than before.
She adjusted the strap of her rifle and stepped forward into the complex, boots sinking slightly into soil that had no business being there. She let instinct guide her, choosing corridors that sloped subtly downward, stairways choked with roots rather than rubble.
As she moved, she watched.
Birds settled and took off as she passed, unafraid but wary. Lizards skittered across stone, disappearing into cracks. Somewhere deeper in the complex, water flowed steadily, carving its own quiet paths through manmade geometry.
She almost missed the sound.
A crack. Not loud, not sharp. Just wrong.
Her body reacted before thought.
She leapt sideways as something heavy split the air where her head had been a heartbeat earlier.
The axe came down with a brutal crunch, biting deep into the tile and sending shards skittering across the floor.
She spun, rifle half-raised—
A man lunged at her.
Mid-forties, maybe older. Grey threaded through his hair, his face carved hard by years of violence. His eyes held no hesitation, no calculation.Only intent, raw and murderous. He wrenched the axe free and surged forward again, nearly overbalancing with the force of it.
She stumbled back just in time, heart slamming against her ribs.
Then the world lit up red.
Six dots bloomed across her chest, steady and precise.
Laser sights.
She froze for half a second too long.
Gunfire erupted.
Concrete exploded beside her as she dove, rolling behind a thick support pillar. Bullets chewed into stone, dust and fragments raining down around her. She came up on one knee, breath ragged, mind racing.
They knew this place.
Hunters.
The axe-man rounded the pillar, boots pounding, weapon raised for the killing blow.
The air fizzled.
A single shot cracked through the chaos.
The bullet struck him square between the eyes.
He lurched mid-step, momentum carrying him forward before his body seemed to remember gravity. He collapsed in a heavy, final thud, axe clattering from lifeless fingers.
She didn't want to see who had fired.
She ran.
Her boots pounded across soil and stone as she bolted for the nearest exit, a stairwell descending sharply into shadow. Behind her, shouts rang out. Footsteps followed, quick and practiced, spreading out to cut off angles she hadn't considered.
People who had turned this place into their hunting ground.
She took the stairs two at a time, lungs burning, mind screaming for a familiar whisper that didn't come.
No trump card.
No hidden override.
Just her.
The stairwell spat her out into a long corridor that ended at a reinforced door hanging half-open. She burst through—
A security room.
Rows of dead monitors lined the walls, their screens dark and dusty. Control panels lay gutted of fused into useless lumps. The air smelled faintly of oil... and gunpowder.
She didn't hesitate.
She moved fast, precise, reaching up to the ceiling vent and ripping the cover free. Metal screeched softly. She boosted herself, hauling her pack after her, then slid the vent cover back into place from above.
Moments later, the door slammed open.
Boots thundered inside.
Four men took positions outside, weapons trained outward. Two men and a woman swept into the room, movements sharp and disciplined, guns tracking every shadow.
Clear.
Clear.
Clear.
Confusion crept in.
This was a dead end.
Then the woman's gaze snapped upward.
The vent.
Her mouth opened—
Click.
The world turned white.
Fire roared through the security room, swallowing it whole. The explosion punched outward, engulfing those outside in a concussive wave that shattered bone and metal alike.
Far away, deeper in the Metros, the Fox crawled from another ventilation shaft, smoke faint and distant behind her.
She collapsed briefly onto cool stone, chest heaving.
Then she laughed, soft and breathless.
She reached up and removed her mask, wiping sweat from her face with the back of her hand. Her smile was sharp, almost feral, painted across exhaustion and adrenaline.
She tucked the mask into her pack, rose to her feet, and disappeared deeper underground.
Foxes, after all, survived by planning where others chased.