Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The sound echoed in rhythm with their footsteps. Slow, steady, and sharp. Like water tapping against a steel pan. It wasn't water, though. It never was. Each drop left a faint, dark blotch on the cracked concrete stairs beneath them.
Black goo.
Amara hated it. Every drop felt like an unseen eye watching them, tracking their every move. She glanced up at the spiraling stairwell above, eyes sharp beneath her hood, watching the slick trails that bled down the walls. Her fingers tightened on the grip of her sniper rifle, and she tapped it twice against her palm.
The stairwell spiraled downward in tight, cramped turns. Rusted railings wove through crumbling concrete, each step sounding like distant echoes of war drums. Kieran led the way, his shield raised high, the faint glow of its sigil their only light source. Amara followed close behind, her rifle raised, eyes sharp and scanning every shadow.
"Left, right, then left again," Kieran said, his voice low. "Then we hit floor 36. After that, two more down and—"
Amara froze. Her breath hitched. She glanced over her shoulder, eyes darting to the darkness above them. Her eyes narrowed, sniper instinct sharp.
Nothing was there just the goo sporadically stuck to the walls.
They stopped at the next floor, Kieran's boots halting at the edge of the stairwell. He glanced down at the makeshift map in his hand — a mess of scribbled arrows, notes, and landmarks. The ink had smudged in a few places from the rain and his own sweat. His lips pressed into a thin line as his eyes darted between the paper and the hallway beyond the steel door.
"Alright," he muttered, stepping up to the door. He glanced back at Amara. "This should be Floor 36. Next stairwell's at the far end."
"And no traps this time? Right?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow. ."I'm not doing another one of those trap door tiles, like last time".
He glanced over his shoulder, one brow raised. "I'm pretty confident you set all those off on our way up."
"Smooth," she muttered, though her grin tugged at the corner of her mouth.
CREEEAK.
The door swung open, revealing a long hallway lined with office spaces, each room marked with shattered glass doors. Desks, overturned chairs, and broken computer monitors lay scattered like the remnants of a long-forgotten exodus. Papers littered the ground like fallen leaves.
But something was... wrong.
Amara's eyes narrowed. Her steps slowed. Her gaze darted to the ceiling, then to the walls. Her eyes traced the cracks running down the plaster, noting the faint, rhythmic pulse that coursed through them like breathing veins.
"You feel that?" she asked, glancing toward Kieran.
"Yeah." He stepped inside, eyes sharp as his shield raised slightly. His shoulders were tense, the kind of tension that only comes from knowing a fight's about to break out. "Room's wrong. Feels like it's... tighter than before."
Amara nodded slowly, tapping her rifle against her shoulder. Her gaze flicked back toward the hallway. The shadows were too long. The corners too sharp.
"I don't like it," she muttered. "Feels like it's watching us."
Kieran took a slow step forward. The moment his boot hit the floor, everything shifted.
The walls groaned. The floor lurched beneath them like a ship caught in a storm. Amara stumbled, hand bracing against the wall, her breath sharp as her heart jumped into her throat.
"The hell was that?!" she barked, whipping her rifle toward the far end of the hallway.
Kieran steadied himself, his shield pressed to the ground to keep balance. His eyes flicked left, then right. "The room shifted. I think."
"You think?! It freaking moved, Kieran!" Amara hissed. She pulled away from the wall, moving closer to him, her rifle raised, eyes scanning for threats. "The whole floor just—"
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
They both froze.
The black goo rain dripped through the cracks in the ceiling, forming small, inky puddles on the floor. But as Amara's eyes followed the trail of one puddle, she stopped breathing.
The puddle was moving. It wasn't spreading like normal water. It was crawling.
Her breath hitched. "Kieran—"
The puddle quivered, then rose, the black tar stretching up like a shadow being pulled from the floor. Two glowing red eyes opened in its head.
"MOVE!" Kieran barked. His shield came up just in time as the shadow lunged. The impact rattled the room, a shockwave of force that sent papers spiraling into the air. The creature snarled, clawed hands scraping down the surface of Kieran's shield, leaving black scorch marks.
Amara moved. Her rifle swung up, scope locked in. CRACK. One shot. Right between the eyes. The shadow's head jerked back, its form rippling like ink dropped in water. It staggered, twitching, its form growing less human, more beast.
"More coming!" she yelled, eyes flicking to the other puddles forming along the ceiling. Her heart pounded in her chest. Six. No, eight. No, twelve. They dropped from the ceiling like spiders, limbs stretching unnaturally as they pulled themselves upright.
"The maps useless now!" Kieran snarled, tossing the map to the ground. "This place isn't playing fair anymore."
"Glad you figured that out!" she snapped, firing three more rounds, each shot echoing like thunder. "Where's that 'leader's instinct,' huh?! Time to pull out, Captain!"
His jaw set, eyes flicking left, right, then forward. "Stairwell. Far end. Go."
Amara's feet moved before her mind could argue. Her breath came fast and sharp. Her heart was a snare drum in her chest. Kieran was a step ahead, his shield raised, bulldozing through desks and overturned chairs.
Amara rolled forward, her shoulder slamming into a broken filing cabinet. Her rifle came up in one fluid motion. BANG. BANG. BANG. The hands recoiled, hissing like steam vents.
"Left!" Kieran yelled, slamming his shield upward. A pulse of light flashed from the sigil, forcing back the writhing mass.
"They're not backing off!" Amara's breath hitched, eyes darting for the nearest exit. Her gaze locked on a side door. "There! Stairwell door!"
Kieran raised his shield, his entire body braced behind it. "Go! I'll hold them!"
"Don't be a hero, big guy!" She sprinted toward the door, blasting shadow after shadow.
The shadow creatures swarmed. They didn't chase — they darted. One leapt from the ceiling, talons aimed for Amara's head. CRACK. She shot it mid-air, but the momentum still sent it crashing into her.
Her knees buckled. She staggered.
"Get up!" Kieran barked, swinging his shield like a battering ram. The impact crushed two of the creatures into black mist. He spun, eyes locking on her. "Get UP, Amara!"
She didn't argue. She moved.
Her legs burned, her chest tight with breathless effort. She moved.
Kieran slammed his shoulder into the next door. It burst open, revealing the next stairwell. "DOWN! MOVE!"
They darted through. Kieran spun, shield raised, catching the first creature that charged through. CRASH. It hit like a truck, claws raking against steel, but Kieran shoved it back with a roar.
"Go, Amara!" he barked, his shield grinding against the wall to block the door.
She spun, feet slamming against the steps, rushing down, breath sharp as needles in her lungs. Then, something zipped past her face.
SNAP.
Her world tilted. Her chest burned. She gasped, breath shallow, her vision blurring. She staggered, her foot missing the step. She felt herself fall, her hands weak, the weight of her rifle dragging her down.
"Amara!" Kieran's voice was sharp, close.
Then his arms caught her. Strong. Steady. Her head rested against his chest as he cradled her, his eyes wide with something she'd never seen before.
Panic.
"Hey," she gasped, blinking up at him. "Guess... I got careless... huh... big guy..."
Her vision blurred. Darkness clawed at the edge of her mind.
"Stay with me, Amara!" Kieran shouted, his voice thick with something more than urgency. "Stay with me."
Her eyes slowly closed.
Her breath faded to nothing.