They stayed frozen for what felt like an eternity, listening to the slow, methodical sound.
It wasn't trying to get through.
It was just… there. Waiting.
Finally, the scraping stopped.
The silence that returned was even heavier than before.
Jinx let out a shuddering breath and pushed herself up, wincing.
"Okay," she muttered, more to herself than to him. "First things first."
She limped over to him, her face set in a grim mask of professionalism.
"Let me see your arm."
Michael looked down. A long, wicked gash ran down his forearm, a gift from a sharp piece of rebar during the collapse. It was bleeding sluggishly, the dark blood a stark contrast against his pale, dust-covered skin.
"It's nothing," he said.
"It's a hole in your body, kid," she shot back, her voice sharp and brittle. "In a place like this, a scratch can kill you faster than a monster."
She rummaged in one of her many pouches and pulled out a small, clay pot sealed with wax.
She cracked it open.
The smell that hit him was vile.
It was a thick, gag-inducing stench of rotten herbs, antiseptic, and something vaguely like burnt swamp water.
Inside was a thick, glowing, green-black paste.
"What is that?" he asked, recoiling.
"Crawler's Gut Poultice," she said, scooping a glob out with her fingers. "Stops bleeding, kills infection, and tastes terrible if you're dumb enough to eat it."
She slapped the foul-smelling concoction onto his wound without ceremony.
It stung with an intense, chemical cold, but almost immediately, the bleeding stopped. The edges of the gash seemed to pull together, the pain dulling to a low throb.
She wrapped his arm tightly with a strip of clean cloth.
"There," she grunted, sitting back on her heels. "You'll live. Lucky you."
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their situation pressing down on them.
"Those Ghosts…" Michael finally said. "The Alchemist was wrong. They tried to kill us."
Jinx let out a harsh, bitter laugh.
"No, the Alchemist was right," she said, her voice laced with an old anger. "They just had orders to sanitize the area. I was the mess they needed to clean up."
She stared into the darkness, her eyes lost in a memory.
"I used to be a scrapper, you know," she said softly. "Part of a small guild. The Rust Dogs. We weren't big, but we were good. We knew the Undercroft better than anyone."
"We took a job. A simple retrieval op in a D-Rank Gate. Good pay. Low risk."
"It was a setup."
"A DGC informant fed us bad intel. Led us straight into an Alpha's nest."
She paused, her jaw tight.
"But it wasn't the monsters that killed my team."
"It was the cleanup crew."
"A Ghost team, just like those ones. They phased in after the fighting was done. They didn't help us. They didn't call for backup."
"They executed the survivors."
"Called it 'witness sanitation'."
"Someone on my team saw something they weren't supposed to. Something to do with a new black-ops unit. 'Special Projects Division,' the informant called it. The precursor to whatever they're calling Project Chimera these days."
Michael's blood ran cold. It was all connected.
"I only survived because I fell into a drainage fissure during the fight," Jinx continued, her voice a hollow whisper. "Played dead until they were gone. By the time I crawled out, my crew was… erased."
She looked at Michael, her electric-blue eyes hard as diamonds.
"So yeah, kid. I know what the Ghosts are. And I know the DGC doesn't just demote people who find out their secrets. They bury them."
That explained everything. Her paranoia. Her skills. Her deep, abiding hatred for the DGC.
"I'm sorry," Michael said quietly.
"Don't be," she snapped, her cynical armor slamming back into place. "Sorrow doesn't buy you ammo."
"Now, let's talk business."
Michael knew what was coming.
"You want the core," he said.
"The D-Rank Void-Tainted core you've got stashed in your pack," she confirmed, her gaze sharp. "It's worth a fortune on the black market. Enough for me to buy a new identity, a ticket out of this city, and a nice, quiet life somewhere they'll never find me."
"It's yours," Michael said without hesitation.
Jinx blinked, taken aback by his quick agreement.
"Just like that?" she asked, suspicious.
"Just like that," he confirmed. "But I need something in return."
"I need you to get me to Red Hook."
Jinx's face darkened. "Kid, in case you hadn't noticed, the direct route is currently blocked by a few thousand tons of rock."
"You know another way," Michael pressed. "The Alchemist said you were a veteran. You know the tunnels. You know a path the DGC can't follow."
Jinx was silent for a long time, weighing her options. The Void-Tainted core was the score of a lifetime. But helping the DGC's most wanted fugitive was a death sentence if they got caught.
Finally, she let out a long, weary sigh.
"There is another way," she admitted, her voice low and grim. "It's not a tunnel. It's a sewer main that collapsed into a series of natural caverns decades ago. The old-timers call it the Breeding Pits."
"It's a completely self-contained ecosystem down there. Things have been growing in the dark for a long, long time. Vicious things."
"It's a suicide run," she said flatly. "Worse than this."
"But it's deep. It's off every map. The Ghosts' phasing tech won't work that far from a power source. It's a true dead zone."
She looked him up and down, her expression a mixture of greed and extreme reluctance.
"Alright, kid," she said, making her decision. "You've got a deal."
"I'll be your guide."
She stood up and offered him a grimy hand. He took it, and she pulled him to his feet.
"But let's get one thing straight," she said, her face inches from his, her eyes burning with intensity. "This is a business transaction. I am not your friend. I am not your partner. I am a highly-paid consultant, and my payment is that core."
"You do what I say, when I say it. You don't ask stupid questions, and you do not slow me down. Got it?"
"Got it," Michael nodded.
"Good," she said, letting him go.
She turned and stared into the oppressive darkness of a side tunnel he hadn't even noticed before. It was a narrow, dripping passage that led straight down.
"You wanted a guide to Red Hook?" she said, her voice echoing in the confined space. "Fine."
"But the path I know… it goes right through the heart of the Breeding Pits."
She gave him a grim, humorless smile.
"I hope you're not afraid of the dark, kid."
"Because down there, the dark is afraid of what's inside it."