Ironbolt and Avenger stood side by side at the gates of hades. It was the old metro system whose black maw they stared down into. Cracked white tile and a strange subterranean wind marked the opening along the city road and a chill ran down their spines. This was it.

Around them, the urban sprawl was mostly rubble. Not much remained in these areas outside the Great Storm. Only what had withstood the sieges of both sides over the decades.

Back many years ago, the territory of the Lich had been progressive. It seemed like every few months a new area of Eastern Europe was marked off the list; completely consumed by the marching dead. Poland had been the last great battle before the Storm fell into place and the old bastard sealed himself off.

The forces of the entire civilized world, including many of those countries which were now under Baronies themselves, banded together to stop the encroachment. Just as the lines of the Lich King broke and it seemed as though the living finally outnumbered the dead, he created his wall and called the battle done.

Not an inch of territory had been retaken since then, despite numerous attempts. Some of which, the two men recalled, they had been a part of.

In these very tunnels, it was Avenger who had fought. Being the native European, he had been involved with the conflict from early on when the metro still appeared as a viable route. "We can only pray," the Brit said, "that the Lich moved out most of the forces inside." Then, he looked his friend Ironbolt straight in the eye. "Because last time, I had a hundred men. And we still didn't make it through."

"Those were chaotic times. Most of your fighting force was composed only of low-level offensive types. The utility and the training here will count for a lot," Ironbolt said. "We just have to keep our wits about us."

The bulk of their forces were standing behind the two leaders, checking gear and psyching up. However, Dupe and Fortitude soon broke away, joining them at the front.

It was Dupe who showed his doubt first. "None of these things are thinking, persuadable beings if you know what I'm saying. I really hate to mention it, but you know what I'm thinking. I shouldn't have, uh-" He bit his tongue, trying not to say something he'd regret and sound cowardly. Yet, he went ahead anyway. "I should have spoken up earlier, but I'll go ahead and say it. I just have to speak my mind-"

Ironbolt couldn't stand his beating around the bush any longer, so he cut to the chase. "You're not apparently of any use right now, yes. But it may be that you make a huge difference later. And frankly, we could use every possible trick up our sleeve right now. So, although you may feel like you're in danger for nothing, there's an easy way to fix that. Namely, a gun. Pick one up, soldier."

Growing a little paler in the face for a moment, Dupe simply nodded. He did regain his courage, realizing he had no other option, but he was plagued with hesitation. Ironbolt could only provide a harsh reality at this point. To live up to the calling of Hero would ultimately have to be met by the boy himself. Pity would only weaken his resolve.

Next, it was Fortitude who spoke. Seeming to have taken her cue from the response Dupe was given, she merely stated her resolve. "I'll do what I can, sirs."

"No stimulants," Ironbolt warned. "We need you focused."

Slowly, her face fell too.

Avenger chuckled lightly as the second Ward left out of earshot. "Quite a crew, huh? A coward and a junkie."

Inwardly, Ironbolt grimaced, but he knew it was true. He'd contributed what he could with his Wards, but it was a far cry from his previous team, years ago. If only they'd had someone like Walter on their side, he thought.

Far up in the distance, a crack sounded across the sky. Not the usual sonic boon, either. Something far heavier had broken against the atmosphere.

Distracted for only a moment, Ironbolt turned his attention back to the cave system before them. "We move out," he said. "Let's go!" Playtime was over.

Once everyone had heard this call and regrouped, they started on without ceremony into the black. One by one, the Heroes grouped tightly up and turned on their flashlights. Meanwhile, having gone out of the satellite's view, their Illusionist changed his focus. He made it so that only their own group could see the lights. Though he wasn't powerful enough to make the lot entirely invisible, it was the least he could do towards increasing their stealth.

This, hopefully, would give them the slightest edge against those things which stalked the metro.

Down on the station platform below, the walls fell away quickly to a more expansive space. Pillars obscured their view into the deep and dusty network, but they could still see ahead to the subway lines. There, a short drop precipitated the tracks themselves. And then, it was miles of railway. At least, that was the short story about the matter.

In reality, much of the rail had been buried by collapsed concrete long ago. What remained was a patchwork of labyrinthine cave systems. Crypts and dungeons lined the way.

So, as the team jumped down and left white tiling behind, bare rock soon took over. In the next one hundred feet, they were forced to turn left at a bend perfectly perpendicular to the railway itself.

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"What about it?" Avenger asked his earth-bending soldier.

They possessed a kind of seismic sense, able to peer deep into the earth. Unhappily, the soldier shook his head. "It's too far. But this passage connects at the other end of the blockage at least."

Inside, the walls were moist and cavelike. Not at all manmade. Yet, they blended perfectly into the metro at the point of its own dead-end. There could be no doubt about it. Some Power had bent nature to create this detour.

"So we go through," Avenger announced. Pointedly, he drew a set of knives from his vest. He didn't sugarcoat the truth. "We expect a trap, boys. This is the Lich's own way of moving Thralls in and out of the wall. He thinks that no one should be mad enough to try coming this way, but today, we are. That's our advantage."

Into the monster's den, Ironbolt thought.

The threats wasted no time in appearing. Just as soon as they rounded the corner, the first Thrall came into view. Sitting on a rock by the cave's entrance, it was a grotesque image of exaggerated features. Each of its eyes was as large as its own skull. They bulged out, barely kept attached by fibrous nerves that were stretched to the limit. Yet its mouth was worse.

Cut from the base of the clavicle, up to the eyes, and back down it again, it was marked by a bulbous sack that covered most of the chest. All in all, it made for clear design and purpose. To see the enemy and then, with a retched bellow, call out its presence.

Only, it would be doing no such thing.

Just as quickly as Ironbolt had taken note of the thing, Avenger had placed both of his knives in the demon's head. Using his short-range precognition, he had moved even faster than Ironbolt himself.

The Thrall slumped dead onto the rock in the following seconds, and he said in a hush. "We stay hidden as long as fucking possible. But when cover's blown? We run like hell."

Everyone gave a nod of understanding, still watching the twitching corpse.

They pressed on, leaving it behind them. For every step they took deeper into the cave, the tension rose. Outside, the lowest rumble of the Great Storm began to be heard at last. It was so tumultuous that its energy penetrated even here, beneath the world and through the rock. It was like a low growl, pervading the dark.

With Ironbolt and Avenger at the front, the group had two quick-reactors to reliably take out the enemy's scouts if needed. But they could only do so much.

After twenty long minutes of silent marching, the cave shifted in form. Going from a singular tunnel, it expanded into a full-blown natural system of vaults and chambers. Suddenly, there were perilous drops at the side, and water could be heard rushing below. Trenches cut through the floors and walls at random, seemingly hewn over centuries of erosion. The kind of haphazard design expected of nature.

Yet, it was as if their passage had been diverted by an enormous pit up ahead. And at the center of this pit, there was an island. A singular outcropping of rock which jutted up from a hole too sheer for their flashlights to penetrate.

There, half a dozen pale and mangled figures stood utterly motionless.

Despite both of the frontmen's reaction times, there was nothing they could do which would not defeat the point of trying. They could not shout to stop their men in time from being spotted. The rocks had been placed intentionally so that these sentries would only appear at the very last moment.

A wave went through the Thralls, then. Like a live wire had landed against their platform, every wretched body jolted back to life. Bloodcurdling shrieks were next to ring out, echoing violently within the cave.

Ironbolt could feel the damage the sound was doing to his ears. It was not a mere alarm call. It was some kind of offensive Power at work, stabbing into their skulls.

If not for the Illusionist shutting out the noise, he feared the fight would have been over with right then and there. Their brains would have liquified.

Now more than ever, it would be the breadth of their utility that made or broke the mission. Ironbolt was certain of this.

The fury of animal violence which followed was almost too much for him to keep track of. Half of the Thralls on the platform could fly, while the other half had no trouble leaping the gap.

One of the beasts let out a searing flash of light that moved like a wave through the air. It congealed against the rock above their heads, spreading as cracks across the surface once contact was made.

The team's Elementalist could hold back the avalanche from this attack, but not if one blighted Thrall could not be stopped from killing him where he stood. It oozed green pus, shaking from its own disease as it staggered to close the distance.

But this group of Supers was no mere cannon fodder. They were well trained and selected painstakingly for synergy.

That synergy paid off as the group formed a tight protective line. The first man to intersect moved forward and leveled his shotgun. He blasted a shell straight through the Thrall's head. Even as the blight sprayed across him, curdling his flesh, his aim never waved. Behind him, a backline of Powers made sure he felt no pain and stayed on his feet.

Ironbolt brandished a pistol in each hand and did what he could. He was not in sync with this team and their movements. He kept out of the way, staying in the back with his Wards.

The flying Thralls dropped last. Most were susceptible to gunfire, thankfully. Those that weren't quickly attracted the attention of Avenger's own knives. Finding the weak spot in their armor, he finished them off.

With each death, another Thrall would let out its terrible screech. More were coming. 

Just as ordered, stealth was broken and the group broke into a sprint. Nothing more needed to be said. Everyone knew their part and watched for surprise attacks as they fought to get ahead. The worst-case scenario was to become bogged down as wave after wave encroached.

By now their presence would be known throughout the entire metro system. Ahead, the tunnels still stretched for miles.

Ironbolt shot down one Thrall as it came breaking out of the dirt. In a flurry of insectoid limbs, it jumped straight towards his Wards. He only just managed to put enough lead into the thing so that it fell limp before them.

He would have given his left arm for his equipment back.

Moving past the other end of the collapse which had sent them around in the first place, the group counted heads. Despite how well it had seemed they fought in the caves, Avenger quickly realized the truth. In all the chaos of running, someone had been lost.

As a panicked argument began to erupt, Avenger shouted over them. "Dodger is missing. Presume he's dead and keep moving. We've got no time to fucking mourn."

Ironbolt added his voice to the front. With miles still ahead, he soberly agreed. "We can't slow down. Pick a partner and keep them close. Now!"

People knew him for his reliability. He was always levelheaded. But the truth was, in the moments it took Avenger to voice the news, so much anger and doubt had gone through his mind. Never once had Ironbolt learned to take a dead teammate lightly. Yet, hell was bearing down.

The cave was only growing darker. Ahead, the screams of the Thralls were multiplying.