Rook became their guide. He led them not through the main paths of the Undercroft, but into its secret routes. He used a tool to open a rusted sewer grate in a dark corner of his territory, revealing a crumbling brick tunnel.
"The old ways are always the best ways," Rook said with a ugly smile on his face. He pointed down into the dark tunnel with a glowing chemical light-stick. "Sterling’s new, shiny machines are all very good at watching for threats that come from above. They never, ever think to look at the foundations of the world that they built their city on top of."
Going down into the tunnels was a trip into a suffocating darkness. The tunnels were old and weak, barely wide enough to fit Draven’s massive shoulders.
Water dripped steadily from the low ceiling Drip. Drip. Drip. Once in a while, a low scratching noise from the walls would signal the passing of things best left unseen.
Draven hated being in this position. He was a warrior who was meant for big, open spaces and grand, glorious battles. He moved through the tight, narrow tunnels with a coiled, controlled, and angry energy, and he held his heavy pulse rifle tightly in his hands.
Seraph, however, was calm and focused. She moved quietly and deliberately, her eyes scanning every corner and her ears alert to every faint sound. This was an infiltration. The surroundings didn’t matter, only the mission.
Rook moved through the maze of tunnels like he was born in them. He pointed out ancient markings on the walls, markers for old smuggling routes, and showed them traps left over from forgotten gang wars.
After what felt like an eternity, he stopped in front of a wall of brick. He ran his hand on the surface of the wall and then pushed a specific order of loose bricks. With a grinding sound, a part of the wall opened, showing a rusted, iron ladder leading straight up into a dark shaft.
"Here we are," Rook said in a low voice. "The back door to hell. The maintenance shaft for the geothermal conduit." He looked at them, his eyes catching the dim light from his glowing light stick. "My part of the deal is done. I will wait here for your signal. Also, try not to die. It would be bad for my reputation."
Seraph gave him a quick nod, and then started to climb.
She came out into a different kind of darkness. This place was cold and filled with the low, powerful buzz of immense energy. They were in a narrow corridor. It was covered with huge insulated pipes, glowing faintly with a deep red heat, that went along the walls and ceiling.
There were no guards here.
Draven followed her up the ladder, his boots making a soft sound on the metal grating. "Where did everyone go?" he whispered, his voice a low growl. "Rook said this place was full of the new guards".
"I have no idea," Seraph said with her voice tense. She brought up her rifle, checking the corridor. Nothing. No movement. No voices. Only the deep hum of the power plant.
This all felt wrong. Every one of her combat instincts was screaming at her. A fortress with no guards was not a gift. It was clearly a trap.
"The control room is this way," she said, her voice low. "Stay at alert."
They moved quietly and carefully through the empty facility. They were alert and very, very cautious. Every single corner they turned, they expected an ambush. Every single door they passed, they expected it to burst open with a hail of gunfire. But nothing happened. There were just more empty corridors, more humming hot pipes, and the uncomfortable silence.
They finally got to the main conduit chamber. It was a huge, circular room that went down deep into the ground. In the middle of the chamber was the control room. It was a circular glass structure held up over the deep gap by thick metal beams. That was the place they needed to hit.
And it was unguarded.
Draven looked at Seraph, asking a question without speaking. This was too easy. Far too easy.
They stepped onto the gantry, their boots making soft sounds in the huge chamber. They were halfway to the control room when a figure stepped out from the shadows of the entrance.
She was not wearing the metal parts they had seen on her before. She was back in her simple, black suit. She just stood there, the light from the conduit casting her in shadow. New ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄhapters are published on novel-fire.net
Draven reacted without delay. A protective golden glove made of light appeared around his fist. He took a half-step forward, tensing his body and getting ready to rush forward. "Silas!" he shouted angrily.
"Hold!" Seraph commanded, putting a hand on his arm.
He stopped, looking confused. Seraph was right. Silas wasn’t moving to attack. She looked relaxed and patient.
She looked at them, her eyes blank and showing no emotion. Then she spoke. Her voice was flat and held no feeling.
"He knew you would come here," she said.
The words stunned them. The silence, the empty corridors, the unguarded control room. It all suddenly made sense to them.
"This was the most logical point of attack," Silas continued, turning her head slightly in curiosity. "An overload of the power source is the only factor he could not completely control from where he is."
She took a slow step forward.
"I was placed here to intercept you."
Draven’s gauntlet of light flickered, the rage in his eyes turning to a cold, dawning horror.
They hadn’t forced their way in. They had been invited. They hadn’t broken through security. Someone had guided them exactly where they were meant to go.
They were hundreds of feet underground, trapped in a room with their most dangerous and deadly enemy, the clock ticking on a plan that their enemy had known about from the very beginning.