Mitch, Emma, and Diego trudged through the knee-deep sludge, each step releasing a wet, sucking slush that clung to their boots like tar. The tunnel smelled of rot and rust, the walls glistening with condensation that dripped in slow, steady plops. Diego walked slightly ahead, his shoulders tense, while Mitch and Emma flanked him in loose formation, eyes scanning the gloom for any flicker of movement.
"Diego, right?" Emma asked, her voice low but clear over the distant drip of water.
"Sí," Diego replied, glancing back with a small nod.
"Where are you from?" Mitch said. "Cause you're surely not from America based off your thick-ass accent."
Diego chuckled lightly, the sound rough but genuine. "About time you guys asked me that question. I'm from Buenaventura, Colombia."
"Buenaventura?" Mitch echoed, eyebrows lifting. "The place where violence is always occurring?"
"Yeah," Diego said, his tone flattening. "I was really affiliated with gangs in there. Almost lost my life countless of times."
"Really? Was it gang wars or what?" Mitch pressed, curiosity edging out caution.
"Yes, but it's not only that. Almost got killed for smuggling drugs to another gang, then there was that time I accidentally shot a policeman in the leg and they almost shot me in the head." Diego tilted his head forward, revealing a thin, jagged scar across his forehead, pale against his skin. "Luckily, the bullet just grazed me."
"Holy shit," Mitch muttered, exhaling sharply. "Your life is crazy."
"What about you guys?" Diego asked, turning the question back.
Emma answered first, her voice steady but laced with old pain. "Well, first of all—we met six years ago, and it wasn't a casual meetup. There were fifteen of us back then. A big group… which also made us a huge target for the rich. We survived three Perfect Preparation Days. On the fourth, we didn't have a choice. We had to split up if we wanted to live. Mitch and I ended up together. And since that day, we've never found out what happened to the rest of the group."
"Very convenient," Diego said with a wry chuckle. "Almost like fate chose the both of you." He paused, a grin tugging at his lips. "So, do you have feelings for each other in the romantic way? You guys have been side by side for six years."
"Absolutely not!" Emma exclaimed, her face twisting in disgust. "I'd rather be caught dead than be a couple with him!"
"Same goes here!" Mitch shot back, mirroring her revulsion.
"Así es como siempre empieza, doesn't it?" Diego murmured, still grinning.
They both stared at him, confused. "What?" Mitch said.
"Nothing," Diego exhaled, waving it off. "Just forget about it."
They kept walking in silence for a moment, the slush sucking at their boots, until the distant rumble of collapsing tunnels reminded them the night was far from over.
In the vast, glass-walled chamber on the 200th floor, Sovereign set his wine glass down on the marble table with a sharp clink that echoed like a gunshot in the silence. "Why are they escaping?" he asked, his voice cold and eerily calm.
Ashley swallowed hard. "Sir, we already informed them all to not cause too much destruction b-b-but they didn't listen a-and decided to have some stupid f-f—"
Sovereign's eyes narrowed. "What's with you and stuttering? Always that annoying voice going 'a-a-a.' Maybe I should readjust your vocal chords, right?" His tone held no warmth, no anger—just flat menace.
Ashley stiffened, cleared her throat, and spoke again, voice steady this time. "They were reckless, sir, and that's totally our fault. Not yours at all! But not to worry—they informed me that the poor who are escaping are slowly getting killed."
"Hm." Sovereign lifted the glass again, took a measured sip, and set it down. "How's John holding up?"
"He's losing his sanity, very very fast. He'll probably want to die soon enough."
"I see," Sovereign said, uninterested. "Well, I don't care. When is Perfect Preparation going to be finished? Citizens can't wait for the Death Parade."
"Just a few more hours and then we can begin prepping the Death Parade."
"Alright." He exhaled, checked his watch, and glanced at her for a split second. "You're dismissed."
On the surface, chaos reigned. A man screamed as a rich elite ripped his legs off at the knees, blood spraying in arcs. "Shouldn't have tried to escape, you dirty maggot," the elite sneered, crushing the man's skull underfoot with a wet crunch. The screams turned to muffled gurgles.
Further down the ruined street, Gary Cooper called out, laughing. "Yo, check this out!" He grabbed a pregnant woman, tore the baby straight from her womb in a spray of gore, and held it aloft like a trophy. "Can you do something more brutal than that?"
"Tch! I do that shit every time!" Henry replied. "Watch this." He slammed a poor man into the ground, pressed his palm to the man's chest, and the man erupted in flames in seconds.
"Using powers? What a loser!" Gary shouted back.
Deep in a crumbling alcove, Alfie Sr. and Jr. huddled together, breathing shallow.
"Dad," Jr. whispered.
"What, Junior?" Sr. replied instantly.
"How long do we have to do this?"
"Just a few more hours," Sr. said, forcing calm into his voice. "Nothing much."
"Oh man… they can find us at literally any time now…" Jr. said, voice shaking.
"Eek! Don't say those stupid things—it makes my skin crawl!" Sr. muttered, shivering despite himself.
Then Jr. started laughing—quiet, nervous, almost manic. "Remember that time when we'd always latch onto Benjamin's arm when we went scavenging?"
Sr. laughed too, low and fond. "Oh yeah! And then Benjamin would constantly get so frustrated and swat us away like flies!"
"Yeah," Jr. said. "Well, we've grown strong now."
"Heh," Sr. scoffed, looking at his son. "Only slightly."
"At least we got stronger though!" Jr. exclaimed.
Their laughter died as two confident voices echoed closer—too loud, too careless for any poor trying to survive.
"Oh we're so fucked… fuck, fuck, fuck…" Jr. whispered, body trembling as they pressed deeper into the alcove.
Then—tragedy. Gary and Henry looked down, spotting them. "Well well well," Gary drawled, "look at what we've got here."
Elsewhere in the tunnels, Aya and Milo walked in tense silence.
"I just can't get John out of my mind," Aya said quietly. "I wonder what's happening to him right now. Is he still even alive?"
"Geez, you're always talking about John," Milo said. "What even happened between you two? We just left you two alone for a few hours."
"It's nothing, Milo. It's just—he's our comrade, you know? And we need to care for each other."
"Oh, come on now. We barely even know the dude for like what? Two days? And not only that, we barely even talk to the prick. I mean, come on, Aya. We want to care, but we just can't."
"That's not the fucking point—it never was! The point is that he was meant to be our ally, he was meant to be part of us. And you can't deny that because Mitch and Emma are now part of the group."
"It's not li—"
"Be honest," Aya cut in. "You guys hate John just because he used to be rich, right?"
"And you be honest," Milo shot back. "You fucked John, didn't you?"
"What?!" Aya sounded stunned. "No—absolutely not! How could you think of that!"
"Oh don't bullshit me, Aya! How could you care that deeply about a person you knew for two days—or if we're being realistic, just a few hours?! You guys fell in love!"
Milo wasn't finished. His voice rose, raw and angry. "You know why we left only the both of you alone that night? Because we wanted to kill John. We knew you both would fall in love and just—Benjamin said 'love makes you stupid.' And turns out it did, cause look at you willing to risk your life to save John! Just accept it—he's dead!"
"You…" Aya's voice broke. Tears streamed down her face. "You guys used me as a tool?"
Milo clenched his jaw, the realization hitting him like a slap.
"Not only that," Aya continued, voice trembling with disgust, "you're fucking jealous, aren't you? That me and John are in love?" She scoffed, a bitter smile twisting her lips. "Wow. You never changed. You're just like this, and you always will be."
Then her tone hardened. "Let's get things straight. I don't like you. I don't have feelings for you. I never did and I never will."
Milo felt the words like a punch to the gut—humiliation and heartbreak twisting together. But before he could respond, a deafening rumble shook the tunnel above.
Without thinking, Milo grabbed Aya and threw himself over her as the ceiling burst open. Rubble crashed down, pinning them in dust and debris.
Knox Maiden descended through the gap, eyes blazing. "All the poor on the surface attempting to escape have been killed. I can finally have my fun down here again."
He lifted the rubble with a casual wave. When he saw Aya and Milo, his smile turned vicious. "You maggots are still alive… Hannah, you slick bitch. I knew something was up."
"WE NEED TO GET OUT!" Milo shouted, hauling Aya to her feet.
Knox blasted forward, punching through thick walls, flying toward them with murderous fury.
"FUUUUUUCK!!!!"