Adventure of Dallas Fontaine 2

Steam claws up through the hatch shaft. Dallas Fontaine lands on the lower catwalk hard, one hand on the railing, the other on the routing log. Ahead, a rusted bulkhead door flashes under a sickly Emergency Exit sign, cycling lock, almost sealed.

Behind them, boots hammer the upper spine. A security beam sweeps through the haze, then vanishes in the steam. Murderbone bristles at the edge of the catwalk, guarding the drop.

Dallas lunges to the door frame and tears open the access panel. Inside, the wiring is old, exposed, and wet. One wrong touch and the whole corridor seals.

Dallas jams the override lever by hand. The lock stutters, then grinds open a fraction. Beyond it, a maintenance corridor waits, narrow and dark, the only path out before the purge wins.

Dallas slips through the gap sideways, coat snagging once on rust, then freeing clean. Steam washes over his back as he disappears into the maintenance corridor with the routing log clamped tight against his ribs.

The corridor narrows into ribbed metal and stale dark. The bulkhead behind him grinds, still fighting to close, while a red alarm lamp blinks weakly through the haze.

Jackson stays at the opening, half-silhouetted in steam, weapon low and ready. Above him, boots and shouts drop closer through the spine.

Clara points into the dark with a shaking hand from the hatch side, her face pinched with fear as she keeps one eye on the closing door and one on the corridor ahead.

From deeper in the tunnel, something scrapes once against metal, slow and deliberate, as if someone else is already moving in the dark ahead.