With each step Marcus took, the darkness grew thicker, the air colder. The faint sounds of his comrades also seemed to fade, replaced by the distant dripping of water and the soft scurrying of unseen creatures.
Shadows dominated the edges of his vision, and he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.
Suddenly, a faint whisper echoed around him. **Whoosh.**
He spun around, shotgun raised. "Who's there?" he demanded, his voice full of panic.
But there was no answer.
From the shadows above, Don observed silently, the suit rendering him almost indistinguishable from the darkness.
The glowing white eyes of his mask narrowed as he assessed the men gathered at the tunnel's entrance. 'Time to feed,' he thought.
