The sewers of Lost Angeles werenât just a network of tunnels, they were a world beneath the world, an underground labyrinth stretching far beyond what anyone truly understood.
And they had been walking through it for hours.
The air was thick, humid, and heavy with rot, but it wasnât the smell of ordinary waste, no, this was something else. Something older. Deeper. The kind of decay that didnât come from just garbage and runoff, but from things that had been buried, forgotten, and left to fester.
The walls were slick with moisture, covered in veins of bioluminescent moss that pulsed in faint blues and sickly greens, casting an eerie glow along the tunnel paths. The brickwork was ancient, clearly pre-Collapse construction, but warped, twisted in ways that defied logic. Pipes ran alongside them, hissing steam, dripping strange, viscous fluids, some of which shimmered with residual alchemical runoff.
And yet, despite it all⦠they hadnât run into anything.
Yet.
Which was almost worse.
Ciel wasnât one to complain about a lack of monsters, but even she could feel it, the tension crawling up their spines, the air too still, too expectant.
Something was watching them.
Something had been watching them for hours.
But it was waiting.
Still, in true mercenary fashion, they handled the situation in the only way they knew how.
With cocky bravado and poorly-timed jokes.
Veyra stretched her arms behind her head, her voice carrying too loud in the oppressive silence. "So, anyone wanna place bets on what eats us first? Iâm thinking something with tentacles. Maybe a half-melted sewer beast."
Miri, skipping ahead without a care in the world, grinned. âOh, I hope so. Iâve always wanted to see one of the sewer sirens up close.â
Sylva, who had been leading the group with dagger in hand, rolled her eyes. "Sewer sirens arenât real."
Miri gasped dramatically. âOh, Syl, sweet summer child, you have no idea whatâs real down here.â
Gorrug, carrying Skrimp under one arm like a squirming football, grunted. "If it tries to eat us, I shall eat it first."
Ciel snorted, adjusting the goggles perched on her head. "Right, because Iâm sure sewer monsters taste delicious."
Raze, who had been silent up until now, exhaled through his nose, his voice low and rough. "Itâs too quiet."
Ciel turned toward him, smirking. âAw, big guy, you miss the sound of things screaming?â
Razeâs storm-gray eyes flicked to her, unimpressed. "No. I miss knowing where the enemy is."
That sobered them slightly.
Because he was right.
This wasnât just an empty sewer system, there were things down here, things they hadnât seen yet, things that were letting them pass.
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Which meant one thing.
They werenât in the killing zone yet.
Ciel rolled her shoulders, gripping her revolvers a little tighter. âWell, I dunno about you guys, but Iâm kinda glad we havenât run into the whole 'living barrier' part of this yet.â
Sylva shot her a sharp look. "Donât say that."
Ciel blinked. âSay what?â
Sylva turned back toward the path ahead. "You know exactly what."
Miri giggled.
And somewhere, in the distant, distant tunnels of the sewer ahead of themâ¦
Something shifted.
The moment the sound shifted ahead of them, the air changed.
Not in the obvious, tangible way of a breeze through an underground tunnel, no, this was something deeper, something invisible but suffocating.
The sewers had been too quiet for too long.
And now, as they turned a curve in the tunnel, the passage ahead of them widened into an open chamber.
It was a drainage junction, an intersection where the tunnels merged, with crumbling platforms raised above the water, old pipes stretching like metal veins along the walls, and in the middleâ
A heap of trash.
It wasnât just any trash. This was deliberate. Built. Piles of discarded waste, old-world relics stacked into a mound, their forms barely recognizable under decades of grime and decay.
A nest.
And something was inside it.
Something big.
Ciel stopped in her tracks, gripping the handles of her revolvers, her golden-violet eyes locked on the heap.
Raze, beside her, tensed, his greatsword shifting slightly on his back.
Then, from within the rotting mountain of waste, something stirred.
A growl. A gurgling, wet, deep sound, like laughter heard from the bottom of a swamp.
Then, it spoke.
"Whoâs stomping around my home?"
The massive heap of garbage shifted, trembled, then rose.
What emerged from it was not human.
A hulking, grime-covered creature, its form barely distinguishable from the trash itself. Its skin was thick, leathery, covered in patches of moss and decay, as if it had been born from the filth itself.
Its eyesâyellow, glowing, sunken deep beneath a heavy, furrowed browâ locked onto them with a slow, measured intelligence.
Its mouth stretched into something resembling a grin, jagged teeth revealed beneath the thick layers of sludge and overgrown hair.
âWell, well, well. Fresh faces.â The creatureâs voice was gravelly, gurgling, thick with amusement.
Sylvaâs crimson eyes sharpened, her daggers flicking to her hands. âUh⦠Itâs talking.â
Miri clapped her hands, delighted. âOh, how wonderful! A sewer guardian!â
Ciel, slowly, holstered one of her revolvers, lifting a hand. âHey, big guy, weâre just passing throughââ
âThat so?â the beast rumbled, stepping fully from its nest.
It was huge. At least eight feet tall, broad and hunched, its long clawed fingers twitching. There was something off about its proportions, something that suggested it had once been something else before the sewers changed it.
Thenâanother sound.
High-pitched. Chittering. Laughing.
Ciel turned her head just in time to see movement from one of the pipes.
Something red scurried out.
It was smaller, wiry, but no less disturbing.
A thin, lanky figure, covered in patches of bristling, crimson fur, its limbs just a little too long, its fingers tipped in ragged, curling claws. Its mouth stretched wide, its teeth small, sharp, meant for tearing.
Its large, black eyes blinked once, twiceâ
Then it tilted its head, grinning with far too many teeth.
âOh wow, wow, wow! New friends! New friends in the tunnels!â It scuttled forward, its movements jittery, unnatural, the way something moves when it hasnât quite figured out how a body should work.
Ciel swallowed.
Razeâs fingers tightened around his weapon.
Gorrug, staring at the trash beast and its jittery red companion, finally spoke.
âWhat in the dead godsâ name am I looking at?â
The bigger one chuckled, deep and gurgling.
The smaller one tittered, voice high and shrill.
âIâm the Collector,â the big one rumbled, gesturing a massive, clawed hand toward his filth-ridden domain. âThis is my home. And this hereââ
He gestured to the smaller one, who immediately twitched excitedly.
âOh! Oh! I introduce myself! Okay, okay, I do it now!â The thing bounced on its haunches, clicking its claws together.
âIâm Red! Iâm Red and I love to play!â
Miri beamed. âI like them.â
Veyra muttered, âI fucking hate them.â
Ciel, still processing, held up a finger.
âSo just so Iâm clearââ
The Collector leaned forward, unblinking.
âWeâre gonna have to fight our way through you, arenât we?â
The creatures grinned.
The sewers shuddered.
And thenâthe tunnels came alive.