The inside of the metro train was a long, narrow corridor of faded metal and cracked windows, its walls streaked with grime and rust. Snow led the way, her boots crunching over shattered glass and debris, while Rain trailed close behind. The silence inside the train was heavy, broken only by their footsteps and the occasional creak of the old structure settling into its decay.
Snow moved carefully, her eyes scanning the shadows between the rows of torn seats and broken fixtures. Each car was a small, self-contained world of abandonment, filled with the detritus of the Old Ones: suitcases left half-open, paper maps curling into themselves, and children's toys lying forgotten on the floor. It was a graveyard of a life long gone, and the walls of the train now felt less like protection and more like a tomb.
Rain's voice broke the stillness. "Snow..."
Snow stopped and turned to look at her companion. Rain was staring down at her boots, her expression unreadable, but the slump of her shoulders gave her away. Snow tilted her head, waiting for her to continue.
"When you turned back to fight those things," Rain said quietly, "I... I couldn't stop thinking about what the Niners said."
Snow's jaw tightened. "Forget the Niners."
"I can't." Rain's voice trembled. She hugged her arms around herself as if to ward off the cold creeping through the train. "They were right, weren't they? I'm going to get you killed. Just like... just like Gemma."
"That's not true," Snow said firmly.
"It is." Rain looked up at her, her eyes glistening in the dim light. "Gemma died because of me. And when you stayed back to hold off the Ratlings... I thought, 'This is it. This is where it happens. This is where I lose her too.'"
Snow sighed and stepped closer, resting a hand on Rain's shoulder. "Listen to me. Gemma made her choice. She didn't die because of you. She died because she believed in what we were doing. And I made my choice too. I chose to follow you, Rain. I chose to help you, no matter what. Whether we get to Paradise or not, whether this mission of yours works out or falls apart, I'm here because I want to be here. Understand?"
Rain sniffed, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. "But what if—"
"No 'what ifs,'" Snow interrupted, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We're all we've got out here. So stop beating yourself up, alright? If anyone's going to get us killed, it'll probably be me." She cracked a wry smile, trying to lighten the mood.
Rain blinked at her, then let out a small, shaky laugh. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"Damn right I am." Snow gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before turning and continuing down the train. "Now, come on. Let's get moving before those Ratlings figure out how to chew through metal."
The two girls exited the train a while later, stepping back onto the cracked concrete of the metro track. The air was damp and carried a faint, metallic tang, the smell of ancient decay and stagnant water. Snow glanced over her shoulder to make sure Rain was keeping up, then adjusted the straps of her pack and set off along the path toward the Darklands.
The walk was long and tense. Every few steps, Snow's eyes darted to the shadows, her hand resting on the hilt of her machete. Rain stayed close, her fingers brushing against the walls for balance as the terrain grew more uneven. The remnants of the Old Ones' world disappeared the further they went, replaced by emptiness and silence. The track stretched endlessly ahead, the darkened tunnel yawning like the throat of some great beast.
Eventually, they came across a makeshift camp nestled beside the track. Snow held up a hand to stop Rain, scanning the scene carefully. The camp was little more than a pile of scavenged belongings: a tattered sleeping bag, a rusted cooking pot, and a few scattered tools. Beside it lay the skeletal remains of a person, their bones clad in a crude hazmat suit fashioned from a shower curtain. A gas mask made from a plastic bottle and stuffed with charcoal hung loosely around the skull.
Snow crouched beside the remains, her expression unreadable. "Looks like they didn't make it," she muttered.
Rain knelt beside her, her fingers brushing against a folded piece of paper lying near the skeleton. She picked it up carefully, unfolding it to reveal a handwritten note.
"What's it say?" Snow asked, standing and glancing around the camp for anything useful.
Rain cleared her throat and began to read aloud:
"I came here looking for Paradise, after hearing the broadcast from the old facility. They said it was out there, past the Darklands. They said it was real. I don't know if I believed them, but what else was there? What else is there but hope?
The metro path is a nightmare. The Ratlings have made it their nest. I thought I was prepared—camphor balls to keep them away, attractants to lure them off. The attractants worked well, but I was too slow. An accident left me injured, and now I can't move. My food ran out days ago. I can feel myself fading.
To anyone who finds this: take what you need. Use what I've left behind. And if you find Paradise... tell them I tried. Tell them I almost made it. Good luck."
Rain's voice faltered at the end, and she lowered the note slowly, her eyes lingering on the skeletal remains. "He... he really believed he could make it."
"Belief doesn't count for much if you're not prepared," Snow said bluntly, tossing a bundle of tattered clothes into her pack.
"Snow!" Rain protested, her tone scolding.
Snow shrugged. "I'm just saying. He was prepared, but not enough. If we're going to make it through, we've got to be smarter."
Rain sighed, shaking her head, but she didn't argue. Instead, she knelt by the skeleton and closed her eyes, murmuring a soft prayer under her breath. Snow watched her for a moment, her expression softening slightly.
"Alright," Snow said after a while, standing and slinging her pack over her shoulder. "I've got sparkrods, some camphor balls, and a few other bits and pieces. The attractants are probably long gone, though."
Rain stood, brushing the dust from her knees. "Then we'll make do with what we have."
Snow smirked. "That's the spirit."
The two girls shared a brief, determined glance before turning back to the path ahead. The Darklands awaited, and with it, the promise—or the peril—of what lay beyond. But for now, they had each other, and that was enough to keep them moving forward.
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The air grew heavier as the duo delved deeper into the metro network, the walls pressing close with a suffocating sense of abandonment. The tunnel ahead stretched endlessly, its yawning mouth swallowed by shadow, and the faint scuttling noises that echoed through the passageway set their teeth on edge. Snow adjusted the strap of her pack and glanced back at Rain, who was tugging uncomfortably at the stiff material of her makeshift hazmat suit.
"Stop fidgeting," Snow muttered, keeping her voice low. "You'll thank me if something nasty decides to lunge at you."
"It smells awful," Rain complained, her voice muffled by the plastic bottle gas mask strapped to her face. She sounded like she was speaking through a tin can. "And it's so hot. It's like being boiled alive in here."
"Better boiled than bitten," Snow shot back. She reached into her pocket and fingered the camphor balls she'd placed there, their pungent, menthol-like scent hanging thick around them. "Besides, it's not for long. The exit's close. Just stick with me."
Rain muttered something unintelligible under her breath, but she fell in line behind Snow, her eyes darting nervously to the tunnel walls. Every so often, the faint red gleam of ratling eyes would flash in the darkness before retreating, the camphor's chemical sting keeping them at bay.
Then it came: the sound they'd been dreading. A low, rising skittering noise that grew louder with each passing second. Snow froze mid-step, her head snapping toward the sound. Rain clutched at her arm, her knuckles white against the grime-darkened fabric of Snow's jacket.
"They're coming," Rain whispered.
Snow's gaze flickered to the side, spotting the grated cover of a ventilation shaft half-hidden in the gloom. "In there," she ordered, already moving toward it.
The two scrambled into the tight space, Rain struggling with the awkward bulk of her suit. Snow yanked the grate back into place just as the ratlings appeared, a surging, chittering mass of brown and black. They poured down the tunnel like living water, their glowing red eyes blazing like tiny fires in the dark. Snow and Rain huddled in silence, their breaths shallow and their movements still.
The camphor's scent worked its magic. The swarm hesitated, their twitching noses recoiling at the odor, and then they rushed past, disappearing down the tunnel as quickly as they'd come.
Snow let out a slow breath and wiped the sweat from her brow. "That was close."
Rain nodded, her hands trembling slightly as she adjusted her mask. "Too close."
When the path was clear, they emerged cautiously, Snow leading the way with her machete drawn. The tunnel was quiet again, but the tension lingered, coiling in the pit of their stomachs like a dormant snake.
The exhaustion was beginning to show. Each step felt heavier, each breath harder to draw. Rain's suit clung to her like a second skin, damp with sweat and misery. Snow kept her focus sharp, her eyes scanning every corner and crevice, but even she couldn't ignore the dull ache in her legs or the persistent throb in her temples.
"We're almost there," Snow said, though she wasn't entirely sure if it was true.
Rain gave a small nod, her voice too tired to respond.
Suddenly, a faint scratching sound broke the silence, followed by the soft patter of tiny feet. Snow stopped in her tracks, her hand tightening on the hilt of her machete.
"Did you hear that?" Rain asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Before Snow could answer, a young ratling emerged from a hole in the wall, its glowing eyes fixed on Rain. It was smaller than the others they'd seen, but there was no mistaking the feral hunger in its gaze.
Rain froze, her heart hammering in her chest.
Snow moved without hesitation. She lunged forward and drove her knife into the creature's throat, silencing it with a wet, gurgling sound.
The ratling slumped to the ground, lifeless, but the damage was done. The smell of fresh blood filled the air, mingling with the acrid scent of camphor, and it was as if the entire metro network came alive with noise.
A deafening chorus of chittering erupted around them, echoing off the walls in a terrifying cacophony. The swarm was coming.
"Run!" Snow barked, grabbing Rain by the arm and yanking her forward.
The tunnel transformed into a nightmare. The ratlings poured in from every direction, their red eyes gleaming like demonic stars in the darkness. Snow lit a sparkrod, the flare's bright orange light casting wild, flickering shadows across the walls. She swung it like a torch, keeping the creatures at bay as they ran, but the swarm was relentless.
Rain stumbled, her unwieldy suit making it difficult to move quickly. Several ratlings leaped at her, their sharp teeth gnashing against the plastic layers, but the makeshift hazmat suit held firm, shielding her from their bites. She let out a cry, swatting at the creatures with her arms, and Snow was at her side in an instant, slashing at the attackers with her machete.
"Keep moving!" Snow shouted, her voice strained but fierce.
Rain nodded, her breaths ragged, and pushed forward with renewed determination.
The exit was close now—a metal ladder bolted to the wall, leading up to a faint circle of light above. Rain reached it first, her hands fumbling for the rungs as she started to climb.
"Go!" Snow urged, turning to face the swarm. The sparkrod was burning low, its light flickering, but she swung it with all the strength she could muster, driving the ratlings back for a few precious moments.
Rain reached the top of the ladder and pulled herself out into the open air. She turned back, her eyes wide with panic as she leaned over the edge. "Snow! Hurry!"
Snow tossed the dying sparkrod at the swarm, the flare sputtering as it hit the ground. She ran for the ladder, her boots pounding against the concrete, and jumped for the rungs.
But the ladder was old, rusted and fragile from decades of neglect. As Snow climbed, the metal groaned ominously, and before she could reach the top, the entire structure gave way with a deafening snap.
"Snow!" Rain screamed as she watched her friend plummet back into the darkness.