Batman followed the trio, his silent steps synchronized with the shadows. The distance between him and the group ebbed and flowed—sometimes narrowing, sometimes expanding—but never too far for his detective mode to monitor them. His enhanced hearing mode remained active, eavesdropping on their conversations, hoping to uncover vital information. However, most of what they discussed was trivial, almost mundane, and of little consequence. Their chatter, filled with nervous banter and occasional laughter, belied the danger surrounding them.
---
Jenna: "You know, I've been thinking… when we get out of here, I really want a burger. Like, a big, greasy one with all the toppings. What do you guys think?"
Hank: [laughing] "A burger? I'm more of a pizza guy, to be honest. Extra cheese, maybe some mushrooms. You know, something that really hits the spot after all this... running for our lives."
James: [sighing] "You two are seriously thinking about food right now?"
Jenna: "Why not? We're stuck in this creepy place, might as well dream about something good."
Hank: "Yeah, lighten up, James. Besides, I've been working on this pizza theory for a while. Thin crust or thick crust—what do you think takes longer to cook? There's gotta be a science to it."
Jenna: [chuckling] "Oh God, not this again."
James: "It's not that complicated, Hank. Thin crust cooks faster. Obviously."
Hank: "But, like, does it? I mean, if the oven temperature is the same for both, wouldn't the thickness of the dough be offset by the toppings? I bet a loaded thin crust could take as long as a plain thick crust."
Jenna: "He's got a point, you know. More toppings could definitely change things."
James: [groaning] "We're in an ancient ruin, being chased by God-knows-what, and you two are seriously debating pizza cook times?"
Hank: "Hey, distractions help me focus. Plus, if you think about it, it's kinda related to survival skills. You never know when knowing how to make a quick pizza could save your life."
Jenna: [grinning] "Right? Imagine if we come across some ancient oven in here, and all we have to do is bake the perfect pizza to unlock the treasure."
James: [rubbing his temples] "I swear, if we survive this, I'm never letting you two near a kitchen."
---
Charlie assessed the situation. From what he had gleaned; the trio had initially been part of a larger group, likely a military or private force. However, during their march through these ancient ruins, a swarm of ghouls had ambushed them. Chaos ensued. In the confusion, the group splintered, leaving the trio stranded and alone, relying on James, their self-appointed leader, to guide them through the maze of tunnels.
To be fair, the situation wasn't entirely their fault. They were lost, yes, but even Charlie, with his stolen dynamic map, found the layout confounding. It wasn't a typical map with clear streets or pathways; instead, it resembled a complex geometry of intersecting lines and shifting polygons. To the untrained eye, like Charlie's, it looked more like an advanced sonar reading than a navigational tool. The ruins felt alive, their structure constantly in flux. It was as though the very walls were bending, folding into each other, shifting realities beneath their feet. Without the omniscient guidance of Friday, Charlie would have been just as bewildered.
Their conversations revealed little else. They were searching for their main group, who had vanished during the ghoul attack. The three-man team, consisting of James, the confident leader; Jenna, who seemed to have romantic notions about James; and Hank, the bottom-tier soldier who harbored ambiguous motives, were making their way through the ruins, hopeful but tired. From what Charlie could tell, Hank seemed torn—either he admired James or desired Jenna, or perhaps both, in a rivalry as old as time.
Charlie, though mildly amused by their interpersonal dynamics, had a more pressing curiosity: where was the rest of their unit, and what was Grove Group, a medical conglomerate, doing in the depths of this ancient and cursed ruin? The more he pondered, the stranger the situation became. Nevertheless, he continued to shadow them, ensuring their safety by silently dispatching any ghouls that drew too close. With every silent kill, Batman's presence became more and more their unseen guardian, guiding them unknowingly through the dangers.
As the trio journeyed deeper into the ruin, they remained blissfully ignorant of the carnage left in their wake. Every now and then, one of them would comment on their extraordinary luck—how they hadn't encountered any more ghouls since their earlier battle. James even made a passing remark about how their streak of good fortune might be the result of "good deeds paying off."
If only they knew the truth.
Everywhere they passed, the bodies of slain ghouls littered the ground. Unbeknownst to them, they were like bait—bait that Batman used to lure and eliminate the monstrous creatures, one by one.
If the ghouls had any sense of rationality or intelligence, they might have realized something was wrong. These three young soldiers, who looked like lambs awaiting slaughter, were far more dangerous than they appeared. But the ghouls were mindless creatures, driven by instinct alone, unaware that each attempt to devour the trio led to their silent demise at the hands of Batman.
It was, in a way, a twisted game of cat and mouse. The trio thought they were the hunters, cautiously navigating the ruins, but in reality, they were the bait, luring in prey for Batman to dispatch.
After nearly an hour and a half of this grim procession, the trio began to show signs of exhaustion. Their breathing had grown heavier, and they exchanged fewer words. Yet their luck hadn't run out. In the distance, the rumbling of heavy machinery echoed through the tunnels, growing louder with each step they took.
Charlie, still trailing them from the shadows, listened intently. As they drew closer to the sound, it became clear that they had reached their destination. The trio's pace quickened, and despite their fatigue, a sense of relief washed over them.
Batman's detective mode scanned ahead, revealing numerous figures gathered in an open cavern. From his vantage point, Charlie observed uniformed soldiers moving systematically around the cave. Several stood guard at the cave's entrance, rifles at the ready, while others busied themselves with various tasks inside.
The cave was large, its walls rising high above the soldiers' heads. The dome-like ceiling was nearly ten meters tall, and the light sticks scattered around the cavern illuminated the space in a pale, ghostly glow. The jagged stone formations jutting from the walls and ceiling cast long, eerie shadows, giving the cavern an almost otherworldly feel.
The trio, upon realizing they had found their comrades, rushed forward eagerly. Several guards halted them at the entrance, their rifles raised, but after a quick exchange of identification, they were allowed to pass.
Batman remained in the shadows, watching. He widened his field of vision, scanning the faces of the soldiers inside. As images flashed across the screen, Friday's voice cut through the silence.
"They're all registered employees of Grove Group."
Charlie frowned. Grove Group again. It didn't make sense. What would a pharmaceutical conglomerate be doing in an ancient ruin? And not just any ruin—a ruin that reeked of death and danger. Were they trying to branch into something more… nefarious?
The trio disappeared into the crowd, mingling with the rest of their group. Shortly after, a man who appeared to be their team leader emerged from the crowd to greet them. He was older, his uniform slightly different from the others. His face was hardened, his eyes stern and unwelcoming as he looked the trio up and down.
Charlie, curious, maneuvered Batman into a better position, careful to avoid the beams of light emanating from the glow sticks. From this angle, he had a clear view of the leader's face. A quick scan revealed his identity.
"Siegel Mycroft, department manager of Grove Group," Friday reported.
Charlie raised an eyebrow. A department manager? Here?
He turned his attention to the source of the rumbling sound. It wasn't far from the group. As Batman moved quietly through the shadows, the source came into view: a massive door, ancient and imposing. The door stood around eight meters high, its surface worn and weathered by the passage of time. It was impossible to tell what material it was made of, but its weight was palpable even from a distance. Whatever lay behind that door had been sealed away for a very long time.
Several soldiers were using tools to try and force the door open. The machinery groaned under the strain, the rumbling sound reverberating through the cavern. Charlie checked the radiation scans once more. The evidence Grove Group sought was behind that door.
"Sir, someone is approaching from behind," Friday warned.
Charlie immediately repositioned Batman, slipping deeper into the shadows as a man in a Grove Group uniform appeared. His facial recognition confirmed that he was part of the same team.
The newcomer approached Siegel with quickened footsteps. "Sir, a report from the fourth reconnaissance point," he said. "We've detected agents from The Ninth Special Service Division approaching."
"Already?" Siegel frowned, his voice barely audible. "That's faster than I expected. Any notable agents in the group?"
"The team is led by Ivan," the soldier replied. "They've gathered a dozen agents and are heading in this direction, likely tracking the radiation signature of Evidence A-086."
Siegel rubbed his chin, glancing at a woman beside him, clearly weighing his options. "What do you think the chances are of them surrendering peacefully?"
The woman shook her head while replying. "Ivan? No chance. He's known for taking action first, talking later."
Siegel sighed, "Well then, it looks like we'll have to skip the diplomacy. We need more time here. Call in a team, arm them with concussion mines, and prepare an ambush."
"Understood," the soldier replied before hurrying off to carry out the orders.
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