Chapter 11 - The Abandoned Metro Station
They emerged into a cavernous, long-forgotten space that smelled of damp earth and stale history. As Julian flicked on the small flashlight feature of the satellite phone they had salvaged, the pale beam revealed an abandoned underground metro station—untouched for decades, its tiled walls covered in peeling vintage advertisements and thick layers of dust.
Cobwebs hung like heavy lace from the arched ceiling, and old wooden ticket booths stood empty, their glass panes shattered long ago.
"Where are we?" Leo whispered, his voice echoing eerily in the vast, silent terminal.
"A ghost station," Julian replied, keeping his voice low as he pressed his back against a concrete pillar, clutching his bleeding shoulder. "Closed down in the seventies due to structural shifts. It connects directly to the old municipal archives beneath the city hall."
Julian knew this layout from his early days in real estate development—back when he had engineered the acquisition contracts for half the city’s underground infrastructure. If they could reach the municipal archives, they could access an active public elevator leading straight into the city hall lobby, surrounded by hundreds of civilians.
"Can we make it?" Leo asked, his small frame trembling with fatigue and cold.
"We have to," Julian said, though a wave of dizziness suddenly washed over him. The blood loss from the grazing gunshot wound on his shoulder was catching up to him, turning his vision slightly blurred at the edges.
He leaned heavily against the pillar, struggling to steady his breathing.
"You're bleeding," Leo noticed, stepping closer with a look of genuine alarm. He reached out with his filthy, trembling hand, touching the torn fabric of Julian’s suit jacket, which was soaked in dark, drying blood. "We need to stop it."
"I'm fine, Leo," Julian forced a reassuring smile, though his pale lips betrayed him. "Just a scratch."
Before Leo could reply, a loud, metallic crash echoed from the stairwell they had just ascended. The heavy deadbolt had finally given way. The sound of rapid, disciplined footsteps filtered into the abandoned station, echoing off the tile walls like approaching thunder.
Julian’s eyes snapped toward the western end of the platform. "Move! Now!"
They broke into a desperate sprint across the decaying platform, heading toward the rusted iron service gate that led deeper into the municipal archives. But as they reached the gate, the beam of a tactical flashlight swept across the dark terminal ahead of them, cutting off their escape route.
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Stepping out from the shadows near the old ticket booths, weapon raised and steady, stood Viktor Vance.
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