The group moved like ghosts through the labyrinthine sewers, each step deliberate, each breath measured to avoid the slightest echo. Benjamin led, his body a furnace of pain—ribs grinding with every inhale, the crude cast on his arm pulling taut like wire—but he forced one foot in front of the other, jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. The others followed in tight formation: Milo and Aya flanking the flanks, Diego and Alfie Sr. supporting the limping Alfie Jr., while Mitch and Emma brought up the rear, eyes scanning every shadow. The air grew thicker with the metallic tang of blood and the distant, piercing screams—women pleading, children wailing—that swelled and receded like a tide of agony.
The walls shuddered as another section collapsed somewhere ahead, the rumble rolling through the concrete like thunder trapped underground. Splashes of something wet and heavy hit stone; the wet slap of bodies or limbs being dragged. No one spoke. They didn't need to.
A shadow streaked across the curved wall ahead—elongated, unnatural, floating just above the sludge. They froze. Mitch's hand shot up, signaling halt. The group melted into the nearest alcove, pressing backs against slime-slick brick, mouths covered to muffle even the sound of breathing.
The shadow paused, then drifted closer. The figure appeared to be moving above the ground. Rich.
"Well, what the hell do we do?" Alfie Jr. whispered, voice cracking.
Benjamin's eyes never left the shadow. "We keep moving. Slowly. Quietly."
They edged forward again, hugging the wall, boots sliding through the filth with agonizing care. The shadow receded—then stopped.
"I know you're there," a voice called, smooth and amused, though its owner remained out of sight. "Running will just make this more fun for me."
Silence. Hearts hammered in chests. The group pressed deeper into shadow, hands over mouths, eyes wide.
"I said I know you're there," the voice repeated, closer now, echoing off the pipes. "You can't hide. You can't run. You can't fight back."
A figure materialized at the tunnel's mouth—tall, broad-shouldered, Knox Maiden hovered effortlessly, eyes glinting with predatory glee.
"Let us go," Benjamin rasped, stepping half into the light, "or you'll regret it."
Knox threw his head back and laughed—a sound like breaking glass. "You think you peasants can threaten me?" he said, wiping an imaginary tear. "Just looking at you disgusting maggots piss me off."
Benjamin's voice hardened. "We know a bloke ten times more powerful than you. Let us go, or they'll come finish you."
"Is that so?" Knox drifted closer, boots never touching the ground. "Tell them my name is Knox Maiden. Executive Director of Research at HEX HQ—replacing the former Research Executive, John Harper. And I'm always ready for a good fight."
The name landed like a punch. John's replacement. The man who had taken his place in the machine that had broken him.
They bolted.
Knox stomped once. The shockwave rippled outward, slamming them all to the ground. Benjamin hit first, face scraping concrete. The others tumbled after, limbs tangling in the muck.
Knox descended, fist cocked—then paused. "Right. How boring…" He grunted, pulling a slender baton from his belt. It extended with a metallic snap into a thin, glowing cable. With casual flicks, he looped it around their ankles, binding them together like livestock. Then he began dragging them to HEX HQ.
The rope tightened. Faces dragged through filth, skin peeling against rough stone, blood mixing with the sludge. Pain flared white-hot; screams were bitten back into whimpers.
A similar figure dropped from above—Hannah. "Please," she said, voice calm. "Let me take them."
Knox raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"I've been hunting all day. Everyone else grabs them before I get a chance. Let me enjoy scraping these maggots' faces on the ground. I want to savor their suffering."
Knox studied her for a long moment, then laughed. "Fine. But you owe me one."
He released the rope. Hannah caught it, then—deliberately—kicked Diego hard in the face. Knox smirked, then rocketed upward, vanishing into the upper tunnels.
"Your the one who saved us, right?" Mitch asked, voice low.
"Yeah," Hannah muttered, "and I'm getting tired of it. You lot need to stop messing up."
"But why?" Emma pressed.
"I know about your alliance. Out of thousands of groups, yours is the strongest. You have a lot of potential."
Emma's eyes narrowed. "Still… why help us?"
"Now's not the time." Hannah knelt, fingers working the rope. "You need to split up. Now. Knox can trace footsteps—traces in the muck. I can fly, so he can't track me. But if you're caught, I'm caught too."
"Why not bring us with you?" Aya asked.
"Because then I'd have to literally drag you. I can lift you all, but I won't. Too much risk. I'll get caught."
"Then do it," Diego said flatly.
"What? Are you out of your mind?!" Alfie Jr. snapped.
"No, no—tú estás loco o qué?" Diego shot back. "Better a few minutes of pain than dead, estúpido."
"He's right," Alfie Sr. murmured to his son.
Benjamin stared at Hannah. "Where would you even take us?"
"Inside HEX HQ," she said quietly.
"The fuck?!" Benjamin exploded. "Then what's the point of dragging us?!"
"When Death Parade prep starts, I'll help you escape. I'm sorry—it's the only way I can think of."
Benjamin shook his head. "We refuse. Both options are death sentences."
Hannah's voice cracked. "I have to! Knox will come back. If you're gone, he'll know I let you go."
Deadlock.
"This might sound insane," Mitch said slowly, "but what if you find Knox and kill him?"
Hannah laughed bitterly. "I'm not capable. He's stronger. No doubt."
Her wrist device pinged. A holographic message flickered: All executives ordered by Sovereign to patrol surface. Poor escaping via destruction zones.
"All executives," Hannah breathed. "That includes Knox."
She looked at them. "He's gone. No one to trace your footsteps now. I have to go. You know how to handle yourselves, right?"
Benjamin nodded once.
Hannah vanished upward. The group rose, bruised and bloodied.
Benjamin turned to them. "We survive Perfect Preparation. Regroup at base—destroyed or not. Just get back."
Mitch glanced around. "We don't know your base."
"Right. Diego—you go with them."
"What about you, hermano?"
"I'll be fine alone. Go."
They split: Benjamin alone; Milo with Aya; Mitch, Emma, and Diego; Alfie Sr. and Jr. side by side. No goodbyes. Just nods, then shadows swallowing them as they vanished into separate tunnels.
High above, in the isolation chamber, John screamed until his throat bled raw. His forehead smashed against the wall again and again, fresh crimson streaking down his face.
A sinister laugh echoed from nowhere.
"Look at you," Benjamin's voice sneered. "All miserable and broken. Just how I wanted it."
"I never fucking loved you, dumbass," Aya's voice laughed, cruel and cold. "You were just a tool. Kissing you was like kissing a monkey."
"Oi, cunt!" Milo's voice jeered. "Wish I could remember all the jokes we made about your sorry ass."
"Look at you—so pathetic and lame," Diego shouted. "You should just kill yourself now!"
"AAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!! FUCK YOU! I'LL KILL EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU!!! ALL OF YOU!!" John roared, fists clenched until nails drew blood.
He lunged—head-first—into the wall. Nothing. No one.
The room darkened. Walls pressed inward. Lights dimmed to sickly amber. Voices swelled, hands groped—fingers clawing at his chest, his groin, his throat. Tongues slithered across his skin.
"Pull your pants down, let us see your little Johnny…" a woman purred.
"Spread your asshole and give it to daddy, John…" a man whispered.
The hands choked John's neck, scratched his chest brutally, squeeze his testicles. John let out a blood-curlding scream that shattered his throat, begging for anyone out there to save him.
The beeping drilled deeper—beep… beep… beep—each pulse a hammer to his skull.
Then silence. Everything's vanished.
John curled into a ball on the cold floor, body shaking, tears carving clean paths through the blood and grime.
"I can't take this anymore…" he whispered, voice shattered.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
The timer glowed above the door: 38:07:16.