The massive holographic display in the center of the room beamed to life, projecting a high-resolution 3D map of the Caribbean Sea, rapidly zooming in until a tiny, isolated coral reef blinked in neon red.
Synapse stood at the head of the tactical table, arms folded behind his back, his sharp eyes sweeping over the six children of the Halo Squad.
Synapse: This is your first mission so I need you to pay attention. Cayo Serrana. An uninhabited coral atoll off the Colombian coast. Or at least, it's supposed to be uninhabited. Intelligence has confirmed that a mid-level cartel syndicate has turned the island into a primary staging node for their regional drug distribution.
He swiped a hand across the air, bringing up target profiles and surveillance feeds showing armed guards patrolling rough concrete bunkers hidden under camouflage netting.
Synapse: The target is a rogue cartel kingpin operating out of a fortified subterranean compound on the north ridge. Guard presence is light, roughly twenty to thirty hostiles carrying standard grade firearms.
Michael: So....
Synapse: Go in prepared. And another thing, there were no high-tier power signatures detected. Just regular un-enhanced humans.
Kaeleb: Weird.
Ark: Sounds almost too... routine.
Synapse: It is routine. Which is precisely why we selected it for your debut. Your objectives are simple. Insert via high-altitude dropship, neutralize perimeter guards, breach the underground bunker, capture the target alive, and secure all narcotics on-site. Clean, swift, and strictly by the book. Am i understood?.
Halo squad: Yes sir!.
Synapse: Your tactical VTOL is already on standby. Gear up, you're leaving by 01:10.
Halo squad: Yes sir!.
**** / Inside The Tactical VTOL / /01:45 AM/ ****
The interior of the Javelin-04 was humming with a low, bone-rattling vibration. Inside the pressurized transport bay sat all six donning their 'hero suits', each repping a different colour and design.
Outside the thick, reinforced viewport glass, the world was a blurred smear of midnight black and high-altitude clouds. Flying at Mach 5 through the upper atmosphere, the heat shielding along the hull hissed against the thin air, cutting a straight vector from New york toward the Caribbean Sea.
Kaeleb was practically vibrating in his harness. He had his boots propped up on the opposite bench, tossing a small metallic smoke capsule from hand to hand, a cocky grin plastered across his face.
Kaeleb: I'm just saying, twenty to thirty cartel guys?. That's barely five apiece. If Leo doesn't slow us down, I'm wrapping this whole raid up in four minutes flat.
Leo, sitting two seats down while adjusting the arm-guards of his suit, didn't even look up.
Leo: Four minutes?. Takes you four minutes just to tie your boots, man. Don't go setting off alarms before we even get the subterranean doors breached. Some of us actually like doing stealth.
Kaeleb: Stealth is just what people use when they can't hit hard enough to clear a room in three seconds. There are no hostages, so no holding back my strength.
Sloane: We have no evidence of zero hostages, I'm just saying.
Jade: If we did, uncle Xavier would have said so
Sloane: Mr xavier doesn't necessarily know everything. We go in with an open mind and stealthily, this is our first mission. I don't want it ruined.
Leo: I second that
Across the narrow aisle, Michael sat in complete silence, locked into his harness. His wrist-comm projected a small, floating blue hologram of Cayo Serrana's topography. His fingers swiped through the wireframe models, analyzing the rough terrain and the structural density of the north ridge bunkers.
Michael: Keep the talk for after we secure the target. Father said no high-tier energy signatures, but mid-level syndicates love heavy ordnance. Expect automated turrets or thermal traps at the main entry shaft.
Kaeleb: (grinning) Automated turrets?. Michael, you're taking the fun out of my vacation island tour.
While the boys bickered, Ark leaned against the bulkheads, adjusting the heavy straps of his tactical harness. His eyes drifted across the cabin, meeting Sloane's.
She was checking the seal on her gloves, her face set in that sharp, focused expression she wore whenever a fight was coming. But as she caught Ark watching her, the rigid tension in her shoulders dropped just a fraction. A subtle, silent understanding passed between them, a lingering trace of the warmth from the balcony the night before.
Sloane stepped closer, holding onto the overhead rail as the jet hit a brief pocket of high-altitude turbulence.
Sloane: You feeling good about this?
Ark: (smiling softly) Yeah. Just eager to get it done clean.
Sloane: (whispering) Just don't try to be a hero and take on the whole bunker by yourself, you tend to do that a lot
Ark: (smiling) Ouch.
Sloane: (smiling) what?. I'm just watching out for you.
Ark: you always do. Thanks, Sloane.
She offered a small, rare smile before tapping his shoulder pad.
Sloane: Save the thanks for when we're holding the drug lord in cuffs.
**** / Inside The Tactical VTOL / /01:58 AM/ ****
A harsh, double-beep echoed through the cabin speakers, instantly cutting off all conversation. The low rumble of the Mach 5 ramjets began to shift pitch, changing into a heavy, roaring whine as the VTOL engaged its reverse thrusters to bleed off hypersonic speed.
A.U.R.A: Halo Squad, prepare for insertion. We are dropping out of sub-orbit. Deceleration maneuver in three... two... one.
G-force slammed heavy against everyone's chests as the ship plunged downward, cutting through the thick lower atmosphere. The dark, starry void outside the viewports vanished, replaced by dense storm clouds flashing with distant summer lightning.
The crimson cabin lights switched to a pulsing, urgent yellow.
A.U.R.A: Approaching target grid. Disengaging active camouflage for high-altitude exit. Exterior temperature is stabilizing.
Leo stood up, checking his chest harness locking mechanism with a solid clack.
Leo: All right, squad. Playtime's over.
Michael closed his holographic map display, standing up and testing his weight against the cabin floor.
Michael: Remember the drop parameters. Spread out on descent to avoid radar cluster detection, then regroup at Waypoint Alpha near the treeline on the north ridge.
Kaeleb unbuckled his harness, slinging his weapon over his shoulder with a confident smirk.
Kaeleb: Last one to touch the sand buys the post-mission pizza.
Sloane gave her gloves one final pull, stepping into formation beside Ark. She glanced over at him, her dark eyes locking onto his.
Sloane: Ready?
Ark picked up his twin swords and swung each testing his focus, he looked back at her, his expression turning sharp and completely locked in.
Ark: Born ready.
Jade: everyone tots forgot about me
**** /Airspace Above Cayo Serrana/ /02:02 AM/ ****
The VTOL's heavy engines shifted into a low, hovering hum, holding position directly above the insertion coordinates.
The yellow cabin lights instantly slammed into a solid, heavy RED.
A.U.R.A: Target reached. We are holding position at 30,000 feet directly above Cayo Serrana. Opening rear ramp now. Good luck, heroes.
With a loud, mechanical hiss of depressurization, the massive rear loading ramp began to unfold downward.
A blast of freezing, high-altitude ocean wind roared into the cabin, instantly whipping through their gear and drowning out all sound. Down below, framed by the dark, open air, lay three thousand miles of pitch-black Caribbean ocean and directly beneath them, completely unaware of the trap, blinked the tiny, jagged silhouette of Cayo Serrana.
**** /Airspace Above Cayo Serrana/ /02:03 AM/ ****
The rear ramp locked into place with a violent thunk, exposing the pressurized interior of the Jet to thirty thousand feet of empty, freezing atmospheric chasm. Cold, dense air slammed into the squad like a physical wall, whipping through their suits and howling in a deafening roar. Below them, framed by the swirling void of night clouds, the vast Caribbean Sea was a sheet of endless dark, broken only by the tiny, jagged outline of Cayo Serrana island blinking in the darkness.
Without hesitation, Kaeleb stepped right to the precipice. He shot a cocky grin back toward the cabin, and let himself fall backward into the abyss, his arms thrown wide as he plummeted into freefall.
One by one, the rest of the squad followed, stepping off the edge and scattering in mid-air to spread out their landing vectors, preventing any single radar or ground sensor from picking up a concentrated group drop.
Kaeleb cut through the clouds like a meteor, screaming with exhilaration as the wind roared past his ears. Dropping ten thousand, twenty thousand feet in mere seconds, the dark expanse of the ocean rushed up to meet him at terrifying speed. Just as the jagged reefs of Cayo Serrana loomed close enough to make out individual rocks, he flexed his core, drawing on the solar energy banked in his cells. The golden-orange brilliance of his kinetic aura flared around his boots and shoulders, instantly arresting his momentum. The violent wind shear died down as he smoothly transitioned from terminal velocity into a controlled, low-altitude hover, gliding toward the treeline like a human missile.
Sloane was right behind him, dropping through the dark cloud cover in a tight, streamlined dive. Cold air bit at her face, but she held her form perfect. At five thousand feet, a blinding burst of heat energy ignited from her palms and feet. A controlled Flare burst that lit up the night sky for a split second, scorching the cloud vapor and repelling the force of the fall. Shifting her posture, she caught the warm thermal currents rising off the tropical sea, sweeping down toward the north ridge in a quiet, graceful descent.
Leo, plunging at standard human terminal velocity, didn't have flight to save him. But he had physics. As the dark tree canopy rushed up toward his face, Leo adjusted his body angle mid-air, focusing his senses until time itself seemed to stretch into a crawl. The moment his boots made contact with the highest canopy branch of a giant banyan tree, he ran. Rather than absorbing the impact through his knees, he converted all of his downward gravitational energy into raw horizontal kinetic speed. He blurred instantly down the trunk of the tree, executing a lightning-fast vertical sprint down the bark before sweeping across the beach, leaving nothing behind but a whisper of displaced air and a trail of parted sand.
Jade's approach was entirely unique. Plunging straight toward a massive, wave-battered rock formation on the outer reef, she extended both hands toward the stone below, feeling for the deep tectonic pulse of the earth. The rock responded to her presence like a living creature. As she was inches from impact, the ocean boulder literally fractured and reshaped itself, launching a thick pillar of dense limestone upward that caught her mid-air. The stone pillar acted like a hydraulic shock absorber, recoiling into the surf to cushion her momentum entirely before setting her gently onto the shore with a sharp crack of grinding granite.
Michael dropped like a heavy artillery shell. Lacking flight or kinetic manipulation, he relied on pure high-altitude drop ordinance. He aimed straight for the deep waters of the coastal shelf just off the island's eastern reef. Hitting the surface of the Caribbean Sea at terminal speed, he triggered a localized pressure-burst device built into his boots. The kinetic discharge detonated against the ocean surface, breaking the water tension and absorbing the brunt of the collision. He slammed beneath the dark waves, creating a massive underwater shockwave that rippled through the ocean floor. A school of reef sharks hunting in the dark shadows were instantly startled by the concussive boom, scattering into the deep abyss in pure panic as Michael cut through the churned foam, pulling himself up onto the wet, slippery coral rocks.
As for Ark?
No one saw where he fell. No air trails cut through the clouds, no energy bursts signaled his approach, no ripples broke the ocean surface. When the storm clouds parted over the island, he was simply gone from the sky.
**** /Cayo Serrana — Eastern Coral Reef/ /02:06 AM/ ****
Michael pulled himself out of the ocean, water streaming off the dark blue seals of his tactical suit. Crouching low behind a high mound of jagged coral, he shook the salt water from his gloves and tapped his temple to wake up the tiny ear receiver.
Michael: Halo-1 to all units. Touchdown confirmed at Sector East. Report status and landing vectors.
Static. Pure, hollow white noise hissed inside his earpiece.
Michael frowned, reaching up to adjust the internal frequency modulator, cycling through every encrypted frequency Synapse had assigned to the mission.
Michael: Halo-1 to Halo-2. Aegis, do you copy?. Flare?. Velocity?. Anyone?.
Nothing. Not even the faint hum of A.U.R.A's relay link from the Javelin overhead. The signal was being completely devoured by a heavy, high-frequency dampening field blanketed across the island.
Michael: Comm blackout...
His jaw tightened. A communication failure on a low-tier cartel raid wasn't just an inconvenience, it was a massive red flag. The briefing stated there was no high-tier tech or energy signatures on Cayo Serrana, yet the radio jamming was so sophisticated it was actively choking out military-grade Aetheria frequencies.
Michael clicked his tech-staff from his lower back, keeping it unextended in its compact baton form. He didn't panic. Panic was for rookies. Instead, he did what he was trained to do, he adapted, fell back on protocol, and began to scout.
Dropping into a low, silent crouch, Michael moved through the dense tropical underbrush. He knew how to regulate his stride to suppress his thermal signature and avoid kicking up noise against the dry leaves. His eyes swept the surrounding terrain, his photographic memory recording every shift in the foliage, every strange footstep in the dirt, and the subtle angle of the moonlight through the palms.
He moved inward toward the center of the island, staying clear of the main dirt paths. After three minutes of silent movement, his ear picked up the subtle sound of grinding stone near a natural limestone cave.
Michael froze, melting into the shadows of a wide palm tree. He raised his staff, watching the treeline carefully.
Out from the mouth of the cave stepped Jade. She was brushing dust off her knees, looking up at the silent sky with a thoroughly annoyed expression on her face, her hand hovering over a floating piece of jagged shale.
Michael stepped out smoothly, keeping his posture relaxed to avoid startling her.
Michael: Jade.
Jade instantly whipped around, the piece of shale leveling toward his throat before she recognized his suit. She let out a long sigh, letting the rock drop into the dirt with a thud.
Jade: Michael. Ugh, finally. Is your earpiece dead too?. I've been trying to get through to Leo for two minutes. I thought he was just ignoring me like usual.
Michael: Comms are completely jammed. High-frequency dampening. Nothing is getting in or out of this island.
Jade's eyes narrowed slightly.
Jade: Wait, really?. Uncle said these guys were just basic cartel guards with standard firearms. Basic drug dealers don't carry localized frequency suppressors that can block our comms.
Michael: They don't. Which means the intel was either outdated, or wrong. Where's your landing vector?
Jade: Right here. The rocks on this beach are super responsive, but the island itself feels... dead. I tried tuning into the ground vibration to pinpoint the rest of the team, but there's this weird static energy humming through the soil. It's making my head ache.
Michael: Keep your guard up and stay close. We need to reach the primary rendezvous point at Waypoint Alpha before we make any moves on the subterranean bunker. We don't make a move until we have full eyes on the squad.
Jade: Got it. Lead the way, boss-man.
**** /Cayo Serrana — Northern Ridge Airspace/ /02:10 AM/ ****
High above the dense forest canopy, Kaeleb drifted lazily through the humid sea night air. His arms were crossed behind his head, his golden solar aura dimmed to a faint, barely visible glow so he wouldn't draw attention from the ground.
He tapped his earpiece three times in frustration.
Kaeleb: Testing, testing. One, two, three. Archon, if you're messing with the frequency channels again, I'm throwing your staff into the ocean.
Only the quiet whistle of the tropical wind answered him.
Kaeleb: Man, worthless tech...
He rolled his eyes, scanning the dark forest below. He wasn't particularly worried. To Kaeleb, a dead radio just meant less micro-managing from Michael. He was about to dive lower toward the north ridge when he caught sight of a faint orange ember flickering through the high branches of a massive mahogany tree.
Recognizing the distinct heat signature instantly, Kaeleb shifted his trajectory, banking smoothly to land on a sturdy, thick branch right next to Sloane.
Sloane was perched low on the limb, her hand resting against her hip, her gaze fixed intently on the dark clearing near the center of the island. She didn't even look up as he landed.
Sloane: You're flying too bright. Lower your flare or you're going to light up the whole ridge.
Kaeleb: Please, who's gonna see me?
A bunch of sleep-deprived cartel guys drinking bad coffee in a bunker?. Besides, my flare looks good against the dark.
Sloane let out a quiet, exasperated breath. Sloane: Comms are down.
Kaeleb: Yeah, I noticed. Probably just a dead zone. The island is surrounded by saltwater and high iron deposits in the coral.
Sloane: It's not a dead zone, Aegis. This is artificial interference. I tried punching a high-frequency flare signal through the upper atmospheric layer to signal the Javelin, and it got completely absorbed. Something on this island is actively smothering our frequencies.
Kaeleb leaned against the tree trunk, looking completely unbothered.
Kaeleb: Relax, Flare. So we beat up thirty goons without Archon giving us a lecture on tactical geometry. Sounds like a win to me.
Sloane didn't reply right away. Her dark eyes remained fixed on the lower paths of the ridge, her fingers tapping rhythmically against her leg.
Kaeleb watched her for a second, a mischievous smirk slowly spreading across his face. He leaned in a little closer, dropping his voice into a teasing tone.
Kaeleb: You know... you've been pretty quiet since we left the Dome.
Sloane: I'm focusing on the mission.
Kaeleb: Right, right. Focusing. Sure it has nothing to do with a certain guy who loves his white hoodie with whom you were whispering with in the VTOL bay?.
Sloane stiffened slightly, finally turning her head to glare at him.
Sloane: We were talking about operational focus, Aegis. Don't start.
Kaeleb: Hey, I'm just observing. I got eyes, you know. You look at Abyss like he's some deep, mysterious puzzle you're trying to solve. And honestly?, I think the guy actually likes you back. He doesn't even look at the rest of us unless Archon forces him to answer a question, but with you?. Total softie.
Sloane's cheeks flushed slightly under the dim moonlight, though her expression remained fiercely stoic.
Sloane: He is our teammate. He doesn't have powers, he doesn't know how we operate, and he's completely out of his depth on a high-stakes team like Halo Squad. I'm just watching out for him so he doesn't get himself killed.
Kaeleb: (grinning) Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself it's just 'watching out for him.' But if you two start holding hands mid-fight, I'm telling everyone.
Sloane: If you don't shut your mouth in the next three seconds, I'm going to heat-blast you out of this tree.
Kaeleb: Okay, okay. Touchy. Let's head to Waypoint Alpha before Archon starts losing his mind.
Sloane shook her head, a tiny, suppressed smile fleeting across her lips for half a second before she pushed off the branch, gliding down toward the rendezvous point with Kaeleb cruising right beside her.
**** /Cayo Serrana — Waypoint Alpha (North Ridge Clearing)/ /02:15 AM/ ****
The primary rendezvous point was a secluded, rocky clearing hidden deep within the north ridge, shaded by dense overhangs of tropical flora and giant banyan roots.
The air here was suffocatingly still. There was no breeze, no sound of crickets, and no ocean roar, just an eerie, unnatural silence.
Sitting calmly on a low stone outcrop in the middle of the clearing was Ark. He was on a clean, sharp white combat suit lined with dark, black reinforcement inputs across the chest, knees, and shoulders. The white hood was pulled up over his head, casting his face in deep shadow, while his twin swords rested quietly across his lap, their dark scabbards gleaming under the moonlight.
A subtle rustle of leaves echoed from the south edge of the clearing. Ark didn't reach for his swords. He didn't even turn his head.
Ark: You walk heavy for someone who studies combat patterns, Michael.
Michael stepped out from the foliage, staff in hand, with Jade right behind him. He paused, looking at Ark sitting comfortably in the middle of an unscouted clearing.
Michael: You made it to here first. How long have you been waiting?
Ark: Long enough.
Jade peered out from behind Michael, scanning Ark's pristine white suit with a look of genuine disbelief.
Jade: Wait... how are you completely clean?. Michael dropped into the ocean, I landed on a dirt pillar, and you look like you just walked out of a tailor shop. How did you even land?
Ark: (calmly) I found a soft spot.
Michael stepped closer, his analytical gaze dropping to the dirt beneath Ark's boots. He locked his staff into his belt, his brow furrowing slightly.
Michael: Comms are completely down. I don't think this is going to be easy, Ark. I feel like something else is going on here. The intel Synapse gave us... it doesn't match the atmospheric conditions of this island.
Ark slowly stood up from the stone, resting one hand lightly on the hilt of his left sword. He looked toward the deep, dark jungle leading toward the subterranean bunker coordinates.
Ark: I know.
Michael's eyes narrowed.
Michael: You know?
Ark: You're looking at electronic interference and missing radar signatures, Archon. But there's something else
Michael: What are you talking about?
Ark: (lowly) I smell blood. It's fresh, really fresh, and it's everywhere. All over this island. This is blood no drug lord have a need of spilling.
Jade shivered, instinctually stepping closer to Michael.
Jade: Blood? Like... animal blood?
Ark: Human. A lot of it. Whatever was happening before we landed wasn't a cartel operating a business. It was a slaughter.
Before Michael could analyze the statement, two soft swooshes echoed from above as Kaeleb and Sloane dropped down into the clearing, followed immediately by a sudden gust of wind as Leo blurred into sight from the western treeline, coming to a dead stop beside them.
Leo: Man, this island is blehh. I ran across the entire southern perimeter in doubles. And guess what?. Not a single guard. Not a single patrol. No lights, no vehicles, nothing.
Sloane: Comms are dead across all channels. We're completely cut off from the Aetheria Dome and the VTOL.
Michael looked around at the five teenagers standing in the clearing. Everyone was present, unharmed, but the tension in the air was palpable. The lighthearted energy from the transport flight was entirely gone, replaced by the heavy, suffocating reality of an operational trap.
Michael: All right, gather in. We replan right now.
The squad formed a tight circle around Michael as he brought up his wrist-comm, projecting the wireframe map of Cayo Serrana once again.
Michael: Our original parameters were simple, breach the subterranean bunker, neutralize the guards, capture the cartel target, and secure the narcotics. But parameters have changed. Comms are jammed, there are zero perimeter guards on the surface, and the island is dead silent.
Kaeleb: So what's the play?. We abort and head back?
Sloane: We can't abort without confirmation. If this is a test or a higher-level tactical situation, leaving the mission grid without searching the primary bunker is a automatic fail.
Michael: Sloane is right. We proceed to the underground compound on the north ridge, but we ditch the loud entry. No solar flares, no kinetic slams. We breach quietly, stay in a tight paired formation, and clear floor by floor. If we encounter heavy hostiles or high-tier power signatures, we fall back to the beach immediately.
Jade: What about the hostages or goons?. What if the bunker is empty too?
Ark stepped to the edge of the circle, his white hood low over his face, his hand resting on his blade.
Ark: It won't be empty. There's something waiting for us there
Michael looked at Ark for a long moment, feeling an uneasy knot tighten in his stomach. For the first time since they left Aetheria Dome, Michael realized that his tactical models couldn't predict what was inside that bunker.
Michael: Stay sharp, everyone. Weapons out. We move now.
While everyone else walked ahead towards the bunker, Michael pulled back Ark.
Michael: I think this mission is above jeopardise.
Ark: wasn't that already obvious?.
Michael: you don't understand, it's been from the start.
Ark: I don't understand.
Michael: I can't contact A.U.R.A. I can't contact our jet.
Ark: meaning.....
Michael: yes. We have no way off this island
**** /Location: Mojave Desert/ /Command Citadel/ /02:20 AM/ ****
A figure sat in the darkness, his every breathe sounding painful while intaking from a respirator. The only illumination in the room came from a massive, wall-sized array of high-definition tactical monitors. The screens displayed crystal-clear, high angle feeds of the north ridge clearing, tracking all six members of Halo Squad in real time through thermal and bio-synthetic lenses.
Red tracking reticles locked onto each of them:
• SUBJECT 01: KAELEB (PARAGON LINEAGE) — THREAT LEVEL: MODERATE
• SUBJECT 02: SLOANE (SOLARIS LINEAGE) — THREAT LEVEL: HIGH
• SUBJECT 03: LEO (CHRONOS LINEAGE) — THREAT LEVEL: LOW-MODERATE
• SUBJECT 04: JADE (GEOS LINEAGE) — THREAT LEVEL: LOW
• SUBJECT 05: MICHAEL (SYNAPSE LINEAGE) — THREAT LEVEL: VARIES
• SUBJECT 06: ARK (UNRANKED / UNKNOWN) — THREAT LEVEL: UNKNOWN
The figure sat calmly in front of the screens with needles depositing and withdrawing fluids into him. He looked weak, he looked like a dying thought.
It was the Apostle.
Beside him, resting her hands lightly on the controls of a heavy frequency-jamming console, was Theasa. She watched the monitors with a cold, cruel smile playing across her lips as the six teenage heroes began their march toward the bunker entrance.
Theasa: The jamming array is holding perfectly. Aetheria Dome has completely lost their telemetry feed. As far as the Vanguard knows, their precious little interns are just starting their routine drug bust.
The Apostle didn't answer right away. He slowly raised one hand, tracing the outline of Ark's image on the center screen. His glowing crimson eyes flared beneath the deep shadows of the room.
Apostle: Look at them... children playing at being gods, draped in the faded glory of their parent names. They walk into the dark, completely blind to the knife at their throats.
Theasa leaned back, folding her arms.
Theasa: Beacon 1's orders were carried out smoothly. Isolate the children, lead them to their death, great to see their loyalty in top form, especially when we consider the fact that they are about to lose their child.
The Apostle let out a low, rumbling laugh, a sound like grinding stones and decaying iron that echoed off the cold concrete walls of the chamber. He reached forward, flipping a heavy master switch on the control panel.
Deep within the subterranean tunnels beneath the island, heavy hydraulic blast doors began to unlock with a loud, echoey groan, opening the path straight down into the torture room.
Apostle: Now... the fun begins.