Mason had never gone sky diving or bungee jumping. Once he'd leapt off a small cliff into water, the feeling like his whole body was trying to escape upward.

This was worse.

For a moment he saw no outcome except death. Then the endless fall shrunk and narrowed, a sloping tunnel like a crude slide easing and shaping gravity until Mason was scraping along a gritty slope. He practically launched out the bottom, rolling and tumbling to his feet with eyes scanning the dark, Claw held at the ready.

"I can't see a God damn thing," Carl muttered beside him, rubbing at red patches of sand-burned skin.

Mason, fortunately, could. Whether it was his ever-improving senses, or his brand new set of green eyes, the gloom of the tunnels seemed to him merely a bit dim.

Streak shook sand out of his fur and growled, quieting when Mason put a relieved hand on his head.

"Have a flashlight?" he whispered. "Or, you know, the robo-apocalypse version? Like, a torch?"

A light clicked on and Carl illuminated his grinning face. "Got some spare batteries, too."

"Good." Mason stepped forward into what appeared a single direction of tunnel. "Maybe you won't be entirely useless."

Trying to joke seemed appropriate, but Mason was sure they both felt the same general terror, and knew the situation was not ideal.

Seeing no other choice but to follow the tunnel, Mason clutched his sword and moved ahead. They followed it for several minutes without change, save perhaps a slight shrinking in the tunnel's size.

Mason was just slightly too tall and had to hunch like he was in a mine. Fortunately the 'roof' was mostly smooth and sandy, and though it made him fear a collapse at any moment, at least it didn't threaten to crack his skull.

After a minute or so down the corridor, Mason heard sounds of life up ahead, not sure if he was pleased. "Turn off the light," he whispered. "Just hold onto my back until I say otherwise."

Carl clicked off the light without complaint, patted his back and held on, and Mason continued.

The black of the tunnel opened up ahead. Mason walked to the end, hoping for some kind of cavern but just finding several branching tunnels. A green, bubbling puddle filled the center of the maybe ten foot square space, and they'd have to walk carefully on the edge of the 'room' to avoid it. It also smelled acidic. And terrible.

"What's that stink?" Carl whispered on cue.

"Worm goo, I expect. Aren't you glad you asked? Go ahead and turn on the light."

Carl did, flashing his light on the foul liquid before making an appropriate face.

Mason looked at the branching tunnels and knew what Blake would say. "In a maze, go left. Always go left,” he whispered. “We go that way," he gestured with his sword. "I don't suppose I need to say not to step in the goo."

Carl grinned. "I don't suppose."

They passed by it with careful steps, Mason fully expecting some kind of slime monster to leap out at any moment and ruin his day. But they crossed and entered the new tunnel simply enough, and Mason almost had the urge to express his pleasant surprise. Then he heard the clicking ahead.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Get ready," he whispered. "I think there's somethi..."

A man-sized, six limbed insect…person rounded a tunnel bend ahead, stopping to stare at Mason with what seemed like equal, or perhaps greater surprise.

"Uh, hello." Mason said. "We're not here for you. We're here for the worm. Happy to be friends. If you like friends."

It wasn’t the best speech of Mason’s life, to be sure. He thought maybe Speak with Nature might be the best bet, but he didn’t get any feeling of natural affinity as he did with animals.

Insect-man solved his problem shortly after. He chittered and quirked with his mandible-sporting head. Then shrieked and charged.

* * *

"Light!" Mason shouted, already hating his lack of space to move. He almost activated his Shield gem but decided to save the extremely limited item for something more dangerous.

Then the creature was on him in a blink, raking with six arms and six claws, and he kind of regretted it.

Exceptional reflexes and the enhanced speed of Predator's Strike landed first. Mason dropped low enough to swing his sword from top to bottom, hacking off two of the creature's arms and a large chunk of its torso. White goop slopped with the cockroach-like carapace, but the creature charged on and slammed into Mason with claws and mandibles.

The claws he accepted with a grunt, but he dropped his bow and caught the creature by the 'throat', holding back the bite. In terms of raw, brute strength, the score soon became clear.

Mason crushed the creature's throat like...well, like a bug, and literally tore off its head after a vicious kick to its body. The rest of it sagged to the floor.

[Insectoid Warrior killed. Group experience awarded.]

"Delightful." Mason got some of the thing's ooze on his face, and did his best to spit it off his lips.

"Did we win?" Carl aimed his light variously over and under Mason's arms and legs from behind.

Mason wiped his face with a sleeve. He was pleasantly surprised to find the claw marks on his chest were relatively shallow, so at least he'd heal fairly quickly. On the other hand, back in the old world it was usually a simple fact: whenever you found one roach, you were about to find hundreds more.

"Keep the light on, and watch our back. God only knows what might come down these tunnels."

Carl winced, casting an eye backward. "Roger that."

“Did we win,” Mason muttered, flicking what looked like the remains of a severed claw from his ripped shirt.

With a deep breath he carried on, happy at least to be further and further away from the stink of the green pool. Until he smelled another one up ahead.

The same, tell-tale chittering began, but this time there was a nice long corridor first. Mason unsummoned his Claw and lifted his bow, tossing all three traps in a line ahead.

“Shine your light down the tunnel,” he said. “Get their attention.”

To his credit, Carl didn’t ask any questions. He shone his flashlight, and the soft chittering turned into a roar.

Mason loosed a Power Shot at the first insect to show itself, blasting the creature away in a small puff of limbs. More followed. He loosed arrow after arrow without much interest in the details of his enemy. The creatures seemed utterly fearless, or else oblivious, pouring into the corridor with enough numbers to withstand the barrage and move on.

The first trap exploded in a delightful spray of rocky shrapnel, producing a satisfying, collective shriek from the blasted bugs.

He kept shooting, but didn’t bother with Crippling Strike. The creatures swarmed too quickly to be slowed as individuals.

His second trap triggered.

“Might need a hand here,” he shouted over the chitters and scrapes.

“That makes two of us!” Carl yelled from a little ways behind, and Mason spared a quick glance to see the other man holding off another insectoid at the end of the tunnel, hacking him apart with a series of knife strokes.

Streak was waiting between them, growling but patient. Mason used Speak with Nature to be sure.

[Help him. Attack now!]

The wolf barked and leapt backwards down the tunnel, the sounds of his jaws biting down on carapace soon crunching along the walls.

Mason’s last trap exploded, sending another spray of rock and sand and insect parts. He loosed two more arrows before dropping his bow and drawing/summoning his blades.

“Come on, you bastards.” He grit his teeth and waved them on. “See what happens.”

They came on, just as he asked.

Then the ground shook, very briefly, centering perhaps around the three blasts of Mason’s shrapnel.

And the entire tunnel collapsed.