The monument hums like a buried transformer, and the passage answers with a slow red pulse. Dallas stands between the control panel and the exit while Murderbone braces at his side. The Hooded Man keeps to the threshold, his wounded shoulder leaking dark through the cloak.
The Hooded Man
Turn it off, detective. Or the grid keeps every door in this hill locked.
Dallas works the stone panel. The lights in the tunnel shift, and a hidden latch clicks somewhere above. Professor Dayton flinches behind the support pillar, staring at the panel like it might bite.
Professor Dayton
That sequence is not a lock, it is a routing command. It points deeper into the hill.
Dallas Fontaine
You set this trap to hide Bishop. I want the truth, and I want where he is.
The Hooded Man
Truth costs. Bishop is already moving what you found, and this grid is the only thing keeping you from him.
The tunnel lights flare, then dim in a pattern that marks a second path below the floor. Murderbone growls at the seam in the stone, where cold air leaks up from a hidden service route. Dallas sees it now, the monument is not a dead end, it is a switchboard, and the trail to Bishop runs through whatever is opening under their feet.
Unmask the Hooded Man