Chapter Fifteen: Beneath the Ruins

Chapter Fifteen: Beneath the Ruins

The Depths of Neurova

The explosion above still echoed in their ears as Elliot, Nina, and the others collapsed into the filthy, dark tunnels beneath the lab. Dust and debris trickled from the ceiling, and the acrid stench of old machinery mixed with the unmistakable reek of stagnant water and decay. The neon gleam of Neurova's skyline was gone, replaced by suffocating darkness.

Elliot coughed, waving a hand in front of his face to clear the dust. His KessNet implant buzzed with incoming data from NORA, recalibrating to the new surroundings.

"Status?" he asked, his voice raw.

NORA's voice echoed in his head. "All personnel accounted for. Minor injuries. No fatalities."

Beside him, Nina was already on her feet, helping a dazed survivor lean against the tunnel wall. Her face was streaked with sweat and grime, but her eyes were sharper than ever.

"That was close," she muttered.

"Too close," Elliot agreed, glancing around. The sewer tunnels stretched ahead, their rusted pipes and dripping condensation giving the space a sickly metallic sheen. Faint red emergency lights flickered along the walls, remnants of an older infrastructure.

Jonas and Rae moved quickly to check the survivors. The group had swelled—nearly two dozen people, all weak, all disoriented. Their faces were drawn, haunted by what they had endured. Some still clutched at their heads, as if trying to hold onto fading memories.

One man—a middle-aged figure with hollow eyes and a deep scar along his temple—murmured in a hollow voice, "They took my name… I don't remember my name."

Elliot's stomach twisted. The Syndicate's brainwashing had left scars deeper than the body.

"We need to move," Lora's voice came through their comms. "You've bought yourselves some time, but the Syndicate's not done with you yet. They'll be sending drones down there soon."

Elliot exhaled sharply. "Options?"

"Rogue_NT is working on that. Just keep them alive until I call you."

He turned to the group. "Alright, listen up! I know you're scared, but if we stay here, we're dead. We move, and we move now."

Ghosts of the Past

The tunnels twisted and turned, a decaying web of abandoned maintenance passages beneath Neurova. Once, these corridors had been part of the city's expansion projects, but when the corporate elite moved upward, they left the lower levels to rot. Now, the tunnels belonged to outcasts, scavengers, and those who had disappeared off the grid.

Nina helped a young woman in a tattered hospital gown walk, her hands gripping the girl's trembling shoulders. The woman's eyes were unfocused, her breath uneven.

"You're going to be okay," Nina murmured, even though she wasn't sure if it was true.

Elliot's handheld pulsed with an alert.

"Elliot," NORA chimed in. "Proximity scan detecting movement ahead. Multiple signals."

Elliot's heart clenched. "Syndicate?"

"Unknown."

Jonas tensed, his stolen rifle raised. "Could be gangs, could be scavengers."

Elliot exchanged a glance with Nina. Neither option was good.

They pressed forward cautiously, their footsteps muffled by the wet grime of the tunnel floor. The flickering emergency lights cast shifting shadows along the walls, making every rusted pipe and hanging cable seem like a waiting predator.

Then, from the darkness ahead, a voice rang out.

"That's far enough."

A figure stepped forward, emerging from the gloom.

He was tall, wiry, clad in patched-together tactical gear. A cybernetic arm gleamed beneath his ragged jacket, its exposed metal plating etched with gang sigils and warning signs. Behind him, five more figures appeared, weapons raised but not yet firing.

Elliot swallowed hard. Not Syndicate. Not civilians. Fringe enforcers.

Nina stiffened. "Who the hell are you?"

The man smirked, revealing metallic teeth. "Name's Rourke. And you're trespassing."

Negotiating With Wolves

Elliot forced himself to stay calm, his mind racing. The Fringe was home to many factions, mercenary crews and outlaws, but Rourke's gang was one of the more dangerous ones. They weren't just scavengers; they were survivors of corporate warzones, ex-military, ex-cyber enforcers who had been discarded by the system.

"We don't want trouble," Elliot said carefully.

Rourke chuckled. "You don't get to decide that, kid. See, we heard an explosion topside. And then, a whole bunch of Syndicate signals went dark." He tilted his head, his cybernetic eye glowing faintly. "That was you, wasn't it?"

Jonas stepped forward. "We took down one of their labs. Freed these people. We're just trying to get them somewhere safe."

Rourke's expression shifted slightly. His gaze flicked over the group of rescued prisoners, his metal fingers twitching.

He wasn't unsympathetic. But he wasn't an ally either.

"That's noble," Rourke said, his tone unreadable. "But you just made yourself a big problem. Syndicate's going to be all over this place soon. And we don't like heat."

Nina's hand tightened around her pistol. "Then let us pass, and we'll take the heat with us."

Rourke smirked again. "See, that's where we have a problem. Because you? You're valuable now. And I bet the Syndicate's offering a hell of a reward for you."

Elliot's pulse spiked. The gang wasn't here to kill them. They were here to sell them.

Making a Deal

Elliot's mind raced. If they fought, they wouldn't win—Rourke's crew was better armed, better trained. But money wasn't the only currency in Neurova.

"You're right," Elliot said. "We're valuable. But not to the Syndicate."

Rourke arched an eyebrow. "Oh? Enlighten me."

Elliot tapped his handheld, pulling up encrypted files. "I have access to Syndicate network nodes. You let us go, and I give you access to one of their secure supply caches. Gear, cyberware, maybe even prototype weaponry."

Rourke's interest was immediate. His cybernetic fingers flexed, considering.

"And if I just take you and your toy and sell you anyway?"

"Then you get a payday," Elliot admitted. "But you stay under the Syndicate's boot. You work for them instead of against them. With this, you get to bleed them instead."

Rourke's smirk widened. He liked the sound of that.

A long silence stretched between them. Then, finally, Rourke sighed and lowered his weapon.

"Alright, Kessler. You've got a deal. Send the coordinates, and we never saw you."

Elliot exhaled slowly, sending the false cache location to Rourke's data-link. It wouldn't be completely fake—just enough to keep them busy long enough for Elliot's team to disappear.

Rourke checked the data and grinned. "Smart kid. Try not to die."

He waved his crew back into the shadows, and just like that, they were gone.

The Final Stretch

They pressed on, moving quickly now. Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, until finally, at the end of the tunnel, a faint blue glow flickered. A doorway. Their exit.

Lora's voice crackled through their comms. "I see you. Sending a transport to extract you."

Nina sagged with relief. Jonas helped guide the last of the survivors toward the exit. Elliot felt the weight on his shoulders ease—just a little.

But as they emerged from the darkness, the skyline of Neurova looming above them once more, he knew this wasn't over.

The Syndicate had suffered a blow tonight. But they wouldn't just lick their wounds.

They would come back with a vengeance.

And when they did, Elliot and his team would be ready.

"This is just the beginning," he murmured.