"The Metro's better than staying exposed... but still," Iris muttered, wiping blood from her spear.
Gabe shifted slightly, still strapped to the pickup. "No chance there's another boss-level Fade down there, right?"
Silence stretched between them for a moment.
Iris frowned. "You mean like the last Metro station we went into?"
Sly tensed. "With the bee queen?"
A collective pause followed as the memory settled over them. The sticky tunnels, the swarming creatures, the nightmare that had nearly cost them their lives.
Then Bob shrugged. "Nah. What are the chances? Right…?"
Gabe, still strapped to the truck in Griffin form, tilted his head toward the station. "So, you want me to take the truck down there?"
Bob nodded. "Yeah. We're bringing it with us."
Gabe hesitated for a moment before adjusting his wings. "You sure it's gonna fit?"
Bob was already moving forward, eyes locked on the entrance. "It will. And if it doesn't, I'll make it fit."
With that, Gabe descended, keeping a tight hold on the truck as he maneuvered it downward. The Metro entrance was wide, but the further in they went, the more obstacles they faced. A half-collapsed support beam loomed ahead, blocking part of the path. Without breaking stride, Bob smashed through it with a single, devastating punch, sending chunks of concrete scattering as the way cleared.
The pickup truck rumbled through the tunnel, dragged steadily by Gabe as he guided it down the sloped entrance. The space was tight, with barely inches to spare on each side. Every time something blocked their way, whether it was a cracked column, a collapsed kiosk, or loose debris, Bob stepped forward and smashed through it, clearing the path with brute force.
Sly whistled. "Well, that's one way to make a road."
Dr. Cal gripped the side of the truck. "This is insane."
Iris, keeping her spear at the ready, muttered, "Welcome to traveling with Bob."
The deeper they went, the heavier the air felt. The truck's headlights pushed through the dust-filled dark, lighting up the broken interior of the metro station.
They passed shattered ticketing booths, their glass cracked and full of grime. Dead escalators lined the walls, frozen in place with old rust. A walkalator stretched across the floor, jammed and half-collapsed. Shops once selling designer bags and cologne stood silent and empty, their shelves ransacked, their lights long dead.
Faded posters clung to the walls, peeling at the edges. Bulletins from a world before the apocalypse still hung behind scratched glass displays. Some listed service announcements, others showed missing persons and outdated train schedules.
Bob glanced around as they moved. "Still smells like overpriced perfume," he muttered.
No one laughed.
They kept moving.
The silence inside was different. It wasn't just quiet. It felt abandoned in a way that carried weight. Heavy. Watchful.
Bob didn't stop. He knocked over barriers and cleared the way where needed. Gabe adjusted his grip on the truck while the others stayed close, their footsteps echoing across the cold tile floors.
The world above faded behind them as the station swallowed them whole.
It wasn't until they reached the second level below ground that Bob noticed something off.
The Little Finger enforcers had stopped following them.
He slowed his pace and glanced back toward the upper floor. A few minutes ago, they had been under pressure. Their pursuers had tracked them through the fog with clear intent. But now, as they moved deeper into the Metro station, there was nothing.
No other sound. No footsteps.
Sly narrowed his eyes. "Where the hell did our tail go? They were right behind us."
Iris gripped her spear tighter. "They saw where we were heading… and chose not to follow."
Gabe shifted near the floating truck, wings twitching slightly. "That's not a good sign."
Dr. Cal scanned the shadowed walls and ceiling. His voice was quiet. "No, it isn't."
Bob exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Whatever's down here, we'll deal with it."
He stepped forward and slammed his fist into the next collapsed barrier, sending cracked tiles and loose debris tumbling aside.
"Let's keep moving."
-----
Above ground, the battle was still raging.
Veyron Moreau watched Bob and the rest leave, his Eldritch Chimera Glint radiating overwhelming presence, Fog curling unnaturally around him. Some Little Finger scouts instinctively followed after Bob's crew, but Veyron did not concern himself with them.
He controlled the battlefield like a chessboard, never needing to move, never needing to shout orders.
Instead, he smiled while watching Darius struggle.
The Red Hands team leader stood in the middle of the chaos, his Beast form cracked and weakened. He was helping the few remaining Red Hands, still trying to make sense of what had just happened.
The betrayal had been sudden and precise. Too seamless for a last-minute decision. It felt planned from the beginning.
But Darius knew it wasn't.
He had seen the hesitation before the battle. He had seen Lucian uncertain.
And yet, when the betrayal began, there was no sign of doubt. Every Little Finger soldier had turned at the exact same time, like they had been waiting for the order.
He looked at Veyron, the figure who had just emerged from his makeshift operating room, calm and composed, as if he had planned everything while recovering.
His guards moved only when he did. His expression never changed.
And suddenly, Darius understood.
His breath caught. He stared at Veyron, the realization hitting him hard.
"It's you, isn't it? You did this?"
Veyron stepped forward. His multiple faces shifted slightly. The fog around him thickened, pressing down like an invisible weight.
His voice was calm. Detached.
"Took you long enough to figure it out."
Darius gritted his teeth. "Lucian… those men… they followed your orders. They betrayed us in perfect sync. No hesitation. That was—"
"Telepathy," Veyron finished, tilting his head. "I was already awake when the battle started. And while you fought, I observed. I watched. And what I saw… was weakness."
Darius staggered. His body trembled from the overload running through his system. "You… you were controlling them?"
Veyron's smirk widened. "Telepathy, Darius. Just a simple mind command, given at the right moment. While I was still in that bed, I whispered my command—and Lucian and the others followed."
Darius's hands curled into fists, his Glint flickering violently. He could barely stand, but the fire in his eyes refused to die.
"If we worked together, we could have beaten them. You didn't need to betray us."
Veyron chuckled, calm and condescending, like he was speaking to a child.
"Oh, are you sure? We couldn't even put a dent in them. Those implants you were so proud of? Overwhelmed. Your best soldiers? Slaughtered. And you? You were never even a threat."
He took a step closer.
"You dragged us into a fight we could not win. That man—Bob—and his group were stronger than both of us combined. Fighting alongside you would have drained my resources. My men. So don't blame me for finding a better solution."
He spread his arms, gesturing to the battlefield now covered in Red Hand corpses.
"A very simple solution. Erase every Red Hand here and deny your existence. When your leadership comes looking, we will say… 'Darius? We never saw him. The Red Hands were never in our city.' And with no one left to contradict the story, your forces will be forgotten."
He gave a small shrug.
"As you can see, that is much easier than killing the man called Bob."
Darius's hands shook. His Glint flickered, but his strength was almost gone. His voice dropped to a growl.
"You… bastard…"
Just then, the scouts who had followed Bob's crew returned.
"Reporting, boss. They entered the Metro."
Veyron threw his head back and let out a booming laugh.
"Bwahaha! See that, Darius? Even the heavens are assisting me. There goes your witness. I guess you have no choice but to die today."
He raised his arm. "Goodbye, Darius."
Veyron moved without hesitation. His executioner blade cut forward in a clean, controlled swing. The edge sliced across Darius's chest, tearing through stone and armor with brutal force.
Dust and sand burst from the wound as Darius staggered back, crashing onto the cracked pavement.
But his eyes never wavered.
He didn't retreat.
He charged.
Veyron narrowed his gaze, watching the reckless charge.
"Pathetic."
He shifted his grip. The executioner blade dissolved into fog and reshaped into a long spear, smooth and sharp. Without pause, Veyron stepped forward and drove it into Darius's chest.
The spear pierced reinforced armor like paper, its misty form solidifying deep inside him.
Darius staggered but didn't fall. His hands clamped around the spear shaft, fingers locking down with crushing force.
Then something changed.
Light pulsed beneath his skin. Faint at first, then surging brighter.
The implants hidden inside his body came alive. They lit up beneath the stone, burning through cracks and scars. Energy poured into his limbs, unstable and raw.
Veyron's smirk faded. His many-faced expression shifted, showing the first flicker of doubt.
"What are you—"
Darius lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Veyron, locking them both in a crushing hold.
Lucian's eyes widened as Darius's body began to glow. The light burned from within, unstable and pulsing beneath cracked stone and metal.
The implants surged to their limit.
Darius's voice was a guttural snarl, his breath hot against Veyron's ear.
"You're coming with me."
Veyron twisted, trying to break free. For the first time, he struggled.
But Darius didn't let go.
The last thing Veyron saw was Darius's burning, defiant grin.
BOOM!
The explosion ripped through the battlefield. A flash of white light swallowed them whole. The ground split beneath the force. A shockwave burst outward, tearing through the ruins and flinging debris in every direction.
When the dust began to settle, pieces of both Darius and Veyron rained down, scattered across the field
.
They were gone.
Lucian stood frozen. No words. No breath.
Darius was dead.
And so was Veyron.
The battlefield had fallen silent.
The Red Hands were finished.
And the Little Fingers had lost their king.