The bottom of the city of "Elysium" had a sound of its own.
It was not merely the gurgling of stagnant water or the hum of forgotten machines; rather, it was a continuous moan, like the death rattle of a giant buried alive beneath millions of tons of concrete and steel.
In the abandoned underground pumping station, where massive pipes intertwined like rusted metallic intestines oozing decay, the shattered "Alpha" squad awaited its fate.
The suffocating humidity clung to their skin like cold glue, and the stench of methane and coagulated blood filled their nasal cavities, turning every breath into a biological punishment.
Kyle Valter returned with silent steps, like an outcast phantom, to a corner of darkness, leaning his back against one of the cold turbines.
He was trembling faintly—not from the cold, but from the dual terror gnawing at his soul:
