A handful of bright flashlights cut through the darkness ahead, bright white beams swaying as they moved toward him. Ampelius’ grip tightened on the shotgun. Head-on, he knew he wouldn’t last. Not here against all of them.

  His eyes darted around the corridor until he found a narrow alcove, a small half-concealed space behind shelving and shadows. He slipped into it silently, pressing himself against the cold metal as the beams drew closer.

  Casper’s voice slithered into his mind, almost quiet. “The last of the puppets have been taken out. It’s just us now. If you strike this squad now, the rest will converge instantly. I estimate a 1% chance of survival. I recommend you wait and let them pass. Think of yourself as a submarine slipping beneath a convoy. If you strike from the center, you will create the greatest amount of confusion. That is where we gain advantage.”

  Ampelius’ teeth ground together. Every instinct of his being screamed to unleash his fury now, to punish the soldiers daring to walk these halls. But here, logic won. With a slow exhale, he stilled himself in the shadows and let the four soldiers march past.

  They marched past with discipline, rifles raised, scanning angles, boots hitting the floor simultaneously. Yet they didn’t see him. Not yet.

  As the kill squad disappeared into the next section, Ampelius crawled from his hiding place and slipped the other way. The corridor shifted into a maintenance wing, with dark silhouettes of low ceilings. The area was dense with pipes and thick bundles of wire and generators. It smelled of oil and damp concrete as he moved carefully into the area.

  His ears strained for the slightest sound. That was when Casper spoke again,“Intercepting signals. They’ve kept an external link active, perhaps a relay… or maybe a dedicated radio operator nearby. I’ll listen.”

  Static bled into Ampelius’ mind, followed by clipped Latin chatter. Short commands, confirmations, squad designations. Ampelius grimaced. He caught words here and there, but never enough. He had never bothered to study the language beyond the required basics, which was another law he resented. This was a foreigner’s tongue forced upon him, now mocking him when he needed it most.

  Casper cut in, “Translation: Squad Theta is moving to secure the lower levels. Squad Delta is sweeping west, toward this position. It appears they’re coordinated. Be cautious.”

  As if luck had drawn the worst ticket, Squad Delta breached the maintenance wing before Casper could finish the sentence. Ampelius froze, shotgun in hand, as flashlights swept across the pipes and machinery. The space was cramped and industrial, wide enough for movement but narrow enough to funnel them straight toward him if he chose to fight.

  Casper’s voice slid into his mind again, but calm and deliberate. “I advise caution. Going loud here will also draw the entire response force. Slip past if possible. Fire only when necessary.”

  That was the plan....until it wasn’t.

  One of the soldiers turned too sharply, his beam cutting across the gloom. It caught the gleam of Ampelius’ weapon for the briefest instant. Shouts followed.

  Gunfire erupted. Rounds sparked off pipes and tore through wires as Ampelius hurled himself aside. The deafening storm of bullets shredded the air where he’d been a heartbeat before. He rolled hard, slamming into the floor behind the bulk of a generator, breath sharp in his chest.

  “Casper,” he growled over the rattle of gunfire, chambering a shell with a snap. “Can I go loud now?”

  “You sure can. I think they know you’re here,” Casper replied dryly.

  “Yeah, no shit.”

  Ampelius broke from cover, sprinting across open ground toward a stack of metal containers. Gunfire erupted instantly, rounds snapping past his head and sparking off steel in sharp ricochets.

  One soldier split from the formation, circling to cut him off. He came in fast with his rifle raised, only to be met with the opposite outcome.

  The shotgun roared. A thunderclap in the dark.

  The blast lit the corridor like lightning, pipes and wires flashed before shadows collapsed back in. The soldier’s body jerked violently, armor taking the brunt as the impact hurled him sideways into the wall. No spray, no gore, just the brutal slam of flesh and steel smashing together.

  Ampelius didn’t take chances. He surged forward, boots pounding the deck, and fired again at close range. The blast drove the soldier down, body twitching as he struggled to lift his rifle. Somehow he was still alive, but not for long.

  Ampelius adjusted in a blink, angling the barrel beneath the lip of the soldier’s helmet. The third shot cracked like a hammer, only this time blood sprayed across the floor, hot and vivid against the dark.

  Two more soldiers advanced, firing in bursts as they moved in unison. Ampelius ducked low, pellets sparking off steel around him. His eyes swept frantically for better cover. Then he found it. A narrow but half-hidden hallway that was choked with pipes and wiring.

  Without hesitation, Ampelius bolted for the narrow passage. The dim glow of Casper’s light flickered off rusted pipes as he pushed deeper. Behind him, the soldiers regrouped around their fallen comrade. For a moment, he thought he’d shaken them, until muffled shouts echoed down the hall. They’d found his trail.

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  He pressed on. Minutes stretched into an eternity as the tight crawl of piping and exposed wiring pressed in on him. His sweat streaked through the grime on his face with every step seeming louder than the last. Each breath was a roar in his own ears for how quiet it was.

  The passage widened abruptly into a cross-corridor, a junction connecting different parts of the facility. Ampelius slowed, shotgun raised, eyes sweeping the area. Then motion.

  A squad of soldiers spilled in from the far side, flashlights slicing across the darkness in jagged arcs. He froze against the wall, hoping the shadows would hold, but the corridor offered little shelter. The passage behind him lit up in an instant as more beams stabbed forward, chasing his trail.

  Pinned between two forces.

  Casper’s voice whispered coldly in his mind. “They’ve triangulated your path. No way forward, no way back. Your options are reduced to one.”

  Ampelius exhaled, rage burning cold in his chest. He chambered a shell with a sharp snap that echoed off the steel.

  “Fight,” he muttered. “Or die.”

  And then he moved into a firing position.

  He steadied his aim and waited, shotgun braced tight against his shoulder. The element of surprise was his only advantage, until it wasn't. The first target had his head turned, eyes fixed on the approaching flashlights down the corridor. To the left, another soldier swept his beam across the walls, step by step closing the distance. He was about to be spotted.

  “Now,” Ampelius hissed under his breath.

  The shotgun thundered. The first soldier collapsed instantly, armor cracking under the blast as he crashed to the floor. Ampelius pivoted hard, swinging left in one fluid motion until the second shot slammed into the sweeping soldier, hurling him into the wall with a scream cut short.

  The third reacted fast, muzzle already flashing. A burst of rounds ripped past, one so close Ampelius felt the heat graze his cheek. But in close quarters, hesitation was death. He snapped the barrel forward, pulled the trigger, and ended it.

  Three down. Two left.

  Gunfire boxed him in. One soldier at the entrance on his left, another on the right, with rifles hammering in a deadly V-shaped crossfire. Behind him, the glow of flashlights grew brighter, more boots pounding closer, their gunfire starting to spill into the corridor.

  He was pinned with no clean shot. He felt trapped.

  Ampelius pressed tight against what little cover the piping offered, teeth grinding. He rotated left, feinting toward the soldier near the entrance, but the angle was hopeless. He’d be cut down before he reached him.

  With no choice, he leveled the shotgun toward the rear flashlights and muzzle bursts. He fired wild, each blast meant to pin them down. Sparks erupted where pellets struck steel, the narrow corridor filling with smoke and echoing with the thunder of gunfire.

  Sheer luck favored him. One blast tore across the soldier on the right, crumpling him in mid-stride. The angle broke.

  Ampelius seized the gap, lunging out of cover. For a heartbeat he was exposed, racing past the line of fire before the squad behind him could zero in. Bullets snapped at his heels, chewing into the walls, but he was already gone, disappearing into the dark before the trap could close.

  Ampelius quickly realized these soldiers weren’t as heavily armored as the first squad he’d faced. The elite had gone in first, what he was fighting now were regulars, possibly rear-guard troops. That explained why they fell so much easier.

  At the entrance, one soldier dumped the empty magazine and took a fresh one to put into his rifle, but before he could, Ampelius surged out of the shadows. The soldier’s training showed, he didn’t hesitate. Dropping the rifle, he drew a sidearm in one smooth motion, muzzle snapping up.

  The two collided, grappling for control. The pistol barked wildly, shots cracking into the walls, ricocheting sparks into the dark. Ampelius twisted hard, wrenching the weapon free, and flung it skittering across the floor.

  But the soldier was relentless. Even as the pistol left his grip, his other hand flashed to his belt. Steel glinted in the dim light, a combat knife, lunging straight for Ampelius’ throat.

  The fight ended in an instant, but not by his hand.

  A sharp crack split the air. The soldier grappling with him jerked once, then dropped limp, a hole torn clean through his skull. Blood sprayed across Ampelius’ cheek as the man collapsed at his feet.

  Not his kill.

  The shot had come from deeper within the pipes, wild and fast. The elites were here. Ampelius knew who they were aiming for, and they missed him. They won't miss the second shot.

  Reacting on instinct, he seized the dead soldier by the harness and hauled him up, turning the corpse into a shield. Rounds punched into the body, jerking it like a puppet in his arms as he charged backwards. Ampelius drove through the hail of fire, pressing hard for the entrance.

  Within seconds, he was through. The corridor beyond was empty. He shoved the corpse aside and slammed the bulkhead shut. He could hear the fast approaching footsteps on the other side, so he bolted into the open passage.

  Casper’s glow pulsed beside him, calm despite the chaos. “Movement ahead. Three hostiles. The rest of the strike force is further in, converging behind you. If you stay in the open, you die. Go left, there’s a shaft. Navigate through the walls and we will escape.”

  Ampelius didn’t hesitate. He broke left with his lungs burning. He slid into the narrow service shaft just as the door behind him burst open again.

  The elites spilled through, their flashlights cutting wide arcs, muzzles tracking. Their boots spread out in perfect unison, sweeping the corridor looking for him.

  At the far end, the three soldiers Casper had warned of appeared, their own rifles raised. For a heartbeat, the two forces stared across the empty space, then opened fire on each other while Ampelius vanished into the walls, slipping deeper into the dark as chaos erupted behind him.

  “Why are they shooting at each other?” Ampelius asked as he shoved deeper into the shaft, ears ringing with the firefight still raging behind him.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Casper replied, his voice sharp with urgency. “I’ve located an exit. To your right, you will see a square shaped vent. It should be wide enough for you to crawl through. Follow it upward and it should take you to the top.”

  Ampelius crawled, shotgun dragging at his side, scraping against the metal.

  “Then what?” he growled, sweat dripping into his eyes.

  “Then we escape,” Casper said flatly. His pale glow reflected off the vent walls, guiding the way. “This duct ends at the upper levels. You’ll find a circular grate there. Beyond it is the exterior, outside the perimeter of the facility. Once through, you’ll be free of pursuit.”

  The word free lingered in his mind, a word that was bitter and hollow. He pressed harder, dragging himself upward as gunfire thundered below, fading with every meter he climbed.

  He shoved the final grate aside and hauled himself up, muscles burning from the climb. He felt the cold air rushing against his face. For a moment, Ampelius just stood there, breathing. “I almost forgot what fresh air smells like,” he muttered.

  “You’ve successfully escaped,” Casper said, his faint glow hovering at his side. “Our trail is clean. Survivors, if any remain, won’t last long.”

  Ampelius’ gaze drifted toward the tree line, the forest stretching dark and endless before him. “Dr. Vulcan,” he growled. “He’ll be my first target. We’ll find him… and then I’ll have my answers. My revenge.”

  Casper’s voice was calm, almost approving. “Then we follow your lead.”

  Ampelius stepped forward into the forest, swallowed by shadow.