Falcon stepped into the compound without the slightest hesitation, as though the ruin before him held no authority over his presence, his movements steady and deliberate while the silence of the place seemed to press inward from all sides, thick with the kind of history that refused to die quietly.
Behind him, Dante's voice came in frantic, hushed bursts, each whisper sharper than the last as his fear began to outweigh his pride.
"Psst… psst—boss… where are you going?" he called, trying to keep his voice low but failing miserably as it cracked under pressure. "Psst, boss—this place isn't normal, you know that right…?"
Falcon did not slow, did not turn, did not even acknowledge him, his focus fixed ahead as though Dante's presence was nothing more than background noise.
