The wind picked up as Raj and Peter arrived at the crumbling edge of the warehouse's lot, its rusting chain-link fence barely standing. A bent sign read "Metro Storage - Closed Indefinitely." The world around them was wrapped in silence, save for the distant rumble of city traffic and the occasional bark of a stray dog. At first glance, it looked like just another forgotten ruin in the outskirts of Queens. But they knew better.
"You sure this is the place?" Peter asked, keeping his hoodie pulled low and his hands in his pockets. His voice barely rose above a whisper.
Raj nodded, his golden-red suit hidden beneath a black jacket. "Same address that showed up in the intercepted files. Sub-basement access matches Ned's blueprint."
Peter eyed the warehouse. "Doesn't look like much."
"Exactly why it works. No one's checked this place in years."
They moved along the fence line until they reached a breach just wide enough to slip through. Raj went first, scanning their surroundings with enhanced vision. The structure loomed before them, brick chipped, windows blacked out with grime, but beneath the decay there was power. Lights that shouldn't be on were flickering faintly behind shuttered slits. A faint hum ran beneath the earth.
"Definitely not abandoned," Peter muttered.
Creeping along the wall, they reached what looked like an old delivery ramp leading into a rusted roller door. Raj paused, then crouched by a patch of rubble beside it. He brushed aside loose gravel to reveal a small, circular hatch, embedded in concrete.
"Here it is," he whispered. "Manual access."
Peter pulled out a flat black disc from his backpack—Ned's EMP puck. "Let's fry that lock."
He placed the device beside the hatch and pressed a button. There was a soft whine, a pulse of light, and then a low click from inside the panel. Raj pressed his hand to the hatch and twisted—resistance, then release. The panel slid open with a soft hiss of air, revealing a ladder leading down into darkness.
They exchanged a look. Peter pulled his mask halfway over his face and grinned. "Ladies first."
Raj rolled his eyes and dropped into the shaft, landing with the soft crunch of boots on concrete. Peter followed.
The tunnel was narrow and cold. Faint yellow lights flickered on the ceiling, emergency-grade and buzzing faintly. The air smelled of rust and something faintly chemical. Graffiti lined the walls—tags from long-forgotten subway kids, now overpainted in black, and symbols—Hydra sigils, barely visible in the dim glow.
"Creepy," Peter muttered. "Extra creepy."
Raj pressed a finger to his lips and pointed down the corridor. They moved in silence, steps careful, bodies pressed to the shadows. The deeper they went, the more obvious it became: this was no ordinary abandoned subway.
Cables lined the floors and walls, some carrying power, others transmitting signals. Security cameras rotated slowly above them, but their angle of coverage left just enough of a blind spot—Ned's map was accurate.
They ducked behind a collapsed bench as a low humming noise approached—a hovering drone drifted lazily around the bend, scanning with red beams. Raj held his breath. Peter tapped the edge of his mask, dimming its eye-lenses to avoid detection. The drone hovered for a moment, then drifted away.
When it was gone, Peter exhaled. "I really hate those things."
"Quiet now," Raj whispered. "We're getting close."
They reached a point where the hallway split in two. One path led to a set of stairs descending deeper. The other ended in a thick, sealed bulkhead with a panel that glowed faintly blue.
Raj pointed to the stairs. "That should lead to the lab Ned marked. Surveillance blind spot ends after that corridor."
They descended, steps soft, careful to avoid the cracked edges of the old cement stairs. At the bottom, they found a narrow access corridor, ending in a large, grated air duct. The cover was loose.
Peter raised an eyebrow. "Guess this is the part where we crawl like rats."
Raj peeled the grate open and slid inside, followed closely by Peter. The duct was wide enough to move but barely. Metal creaked beneath them.
"Remind me to tell Ned I hate vents," Peter muttered.
"Remind me to tell him to widen them," Raj said.
They came to a bend in the duct and froze. Through the slats, they could see into a wide, dimly lit room.
The first thing Raj noticed was the tanks—tall, vertical tubes filled with some kind of glowing green liquid. Inside them floated shapes. Human-sized. Barely visible.
"Stasis chambers," Peter whispered. "What are they keeping down here?"
They watched as two figures in lab coats moved past, one muttering about "adaptive compatibility" and "project parameters holding."
Then another entered—not a scientist. A man in black armor with pale skin, his body rippling faintly. He walked with eerie grace, and as he passed a wall, part of his arm seemed to shimmer through it, like fog through a window.
Raj narrowed his eyes. "That one… he's different."
"Phaze," Peter murmured. "Has to be. Ned said the name came up in one of the intercepted files."
They watched as Phaze checked a datapad, muttered something to the scientists, and vanished through the far wall.
Peter leaned closer. "I don't like this."
"Neither do I."
Suddenly, the duct beneath them creaked—louder than it should have.
A guard looked up.
Raj and Peter froze.
"You hear that?" the guard said, raising a flashlight.
Another creak.
Raj whispered, "Time to move."
But before they could retreat, the flashlight beam hit the duct grate.