Roger ducked under a swinging spike trap and casually sliced through a Ghost's legs with a pirate's flourish.
"Tunnels were not this bad when I was smuggling."
He muttered.
Cassidy snorted.
"Smuggling booze ain't the same as tiptoeing through Hell."
ED-E's voice crackled over the comms, sending the information he had taken from the area.
"East flank's the same. Automated turrets, trip mines, and fog dens. ED-E's approaching the power control systems now, but Rex tripped an alarm—expect resistance."
Six said, gritting his teeth.
"Roger. Keep the pets safe. We'll rendezvous at the entrance."
Veronica swore as another Ghost leapt out of a crumbling doorway. She decked it with a Power fist punch, then turned and kicked it back into a mine. The explosion sent gore raining down.
"Seriously."
She growled.
"Who hurt Elijah?!"
Raul muttered.
"The world did, chica. And now he wants it to hurt back."
Six glanced around, breath misting in the toxic chill. The walls felt like they were closing in. Every trap was a message. Every hallway was another psychological attack. Elijah knew they were coming—and he wanted them to bleed for every inch.
And yet, inch by inch, they pressed forward.
Six raised his sword again and moved.
Twig had been uncharacteristically quiet, fidgeting with a bent piece of metal that used to be part of a tripwire rig. He was still sweating from the last Ghost People encounter, but his eyes suddenly lit up like someone flipped a switch in his brain.
"Guys!"
He said, jolting upright, almost dropping his shotgun.
"I just realized something."
Everyone turned to him, half-expecting another one of his wild theories or jokes. Rebecca tilted her head.
"This better not be about the fog being made of ghosts' farts again."
Twig waved a hand.
"No, no—seriously. Think about it: these traps, the mines, the tripwires—hell, even the door rigged to explode—it's overkill, right?"
Raul gave a slow shrug.
"That's kind of this whole damn place's theme."
"Exactly!"
Twig said, pointing a finger for emphasis.
"But what if… what if this wasn't Elijah's handiwork? I mean, yeah, he's crazy, but he's got his holos and collars and cloud. He doesn't need bear traps under rubble. This feels... paranoid. Like someone was trying to stay hidden, not keep people out."
Boone narrowed his eyes.
"So you're saying… someone else has been here. Long enough to lay traps for the Ghost People."
"And if that's the case."
Twig continued.
"Then there's probably something nearby they didn't want the Ghosts—or Elijah—finding."
That's when Veronica almost stepped into the wrong room.
"Wait—don't go in there!"
Someone shouted—it was too close. Veronica froze just in time, eyeing the delicate, near-invisible filament stretched across the doorway.
Six, already on edge, scanned the balcony. His eyes locked onto a large sheet of metal laid out like a makeshift bridge connecting their building to the one across the alley.
"That balcony over there."
He muttered, pointing.
"Someone tried to hide their path."
"Let's move."
He ordered, already climbing across the sheet.
The others followed, one by one, carefully balancing over the makeshift walkway. Inside the rooms beyond: mostly empty. Dusty. Quiet. But something felt off. The stillness wasn't decay—it was intentional. Lived-in, but cleaned up.
That's when Six reached the last balcony and pulled back the hanging sheet. He spotted the dim glow of lights behind it—dim enough not to draw attention through the fog, but too deliberate to be random.
He knocked once, twice.
"Hello?"
Six called out cautiously.
"Not here to hurt you. Unless you try to shoot me. Then we'll both have a bad day."
Silence. Then movement. The sound of something being dragged or covered. Whispers.
When Six stepped inside, sword sheathed but hand ready, the others filed in behind him. Rebecca froze mid-step as her eyes met the sight of two familiar figures.
"Kiwi? …Falco?!"
Six narrowed his eyes, his grip tightening slightly on his sword. Not out of hostility, but out of caution.
These weren't strangers. Not entirely.
Falco slowly turned his head, his mustache twitching faintly in recognition.
"Huh... Rebecca, that you? You look different, same height, but your body is more developed—more curvy. Though didn't think I'd see your little chrome-plated face again."
Six instinctively took a half-step forward, subtly positioning himself between Rebecca and the group, his eyes flicking over the ghoul in the suit. The man's posture was casual, maybe even respectful, but something about him radiated a quiet tension—like a coiled spring beneath a velvet cloth.
Rebecca pushed past Six gently, her voice trembling as she stared at Kiwi, tears barely held back.
"You didn't make it out. I saw it. The explosion... the tower. How are you in this world?"
Kiwi didn't speak, but she tilted her head, mask hiding any emotion.
"—We did die."
Falco cut in, somber now.
"Or something close. Some strange force pulled me out. Barely. Supernatural world mumbo jumbo… it… manipulated things. We woke up underground. Took weeks to figure out where we even were, and longer to find each other again."
Kiwi stepped forward silently, removing her mask. Her face was scarred, stitched in parts, eyes faintly glowing from something not entirely human. Rebecca gasped, but didn't recoil. Instead, she stepped forward and embraced her without hesitation.
"No matter what, you're still family."
She whispered.
The ghoul in a ragged black suit with sunglasses in the back finally stood up, hands raised slowly in a show of non-aggression.
"What are you people doing here in those Power Armor suits!?"
The ghoul asked, his voice laced with both suspicion and confusion.
Six stepped forward, his voice calm but firm.
"What do you mean? Have you seen those things out there? I'd rather be wearing this than that suit."
The ghoul frowned, clearly not expecting such a response. He threw his sunglasses to the floor in frustration, the glass shattering with a sharp sound.
"No. That's not what I meant."
He muttered, pacing.
"He—he wouldn't have let you in... Did you kill him?"
His voice faltered, full of disbelief.
Before Six could respond, a crackling sound interrupted them. A cold, mechanical voice pierced the air.
"Bzztch! No. I'm not dead, nor are they able to kill me. Do not speak to them, or you know what will happen. Bzztch!"
Elijah's voice echoed from a collar, the words laced with venom, before the transmission abruptly ended.
Six's eyes narrowed as he glanced at the collar still wrapped around the ghoul's neck. He could see the anxiety in the ghoul's posture as the beeping grew louder.
"I take it you're not with Elijah, then?"
Six asked, his voice low but intense.
"Hell the Fuck No."
The ghoul snapped, scowling and standing up straight.
"You think I'd side with that insane freak? No way."
The tension in the room was palpable, and Six couldn't help but feel a surge of understanding. Another one of Elijah's victims. His control stretched far beyond what Six had imagined.