"The sewers are suicide," Evelyn stated, her voice flat, the practiced calm of a risk analyst assessing a fatally flawed plan. "They're unmapped, unlit, and full of god knows what kind of industrial runoff. And that's before we factor in the monsters."
"The streets are guaranteed death," Leo countered, his gaze fixed on the grainy image of Sarah on the monitor. The Night-Stalker hadn't reappeared, but its absence was somehow more menacing. "The sewers are just probable death. I'll take those odds."
He wasn't just being stubborn. It was a cold, calculated decision. On the streets, they were prey. In the twisting, labyrinthine tunnels beneath the city, his unique skills might actually give him an advantage. The darkness, the enclosed spaces, the filth—it was the [Janitor]'s home turf.
Evelyn saw the unshakable resolve in his eyes. She sighed, a sound of weary resignation, and turned back to the console. "You're insane. But you're the one who got us this far." Her fingers flew across the keyboard again. "OmniCorp, in its infinite paranoia, has schematics for everything within a five-block radius, including municipal infrastructure. If there's a digital map of the sewer system, it'll be here."
While she worked, Leo began to prepare. He systematically looted the security office, his pragmatism overriding any lingering sentiment for the dead. He took the pistol from the first guard's holster—a standard-issue 9mm—and three extra magazines of ammunition. He had no idea how to use it, but it was better than nothing. He also took a high-powered flashlight, a multi-tool, and a roll of duct tape. Every item went into his [Waste Disposal] inventory, which was now feeling dangerously small.
He looked at his trusty broom-spear. It had served him well, but it was splintering. It wouldn't last much longer. He needed an upgrade. His eyes fell on the dead security guard, Marcus. Specifically, on the collapsible steel baton attached to his belt. It was compact, durable, and designed for brutal efficiency. With a twinge of guilt, Leo unclipped it.
"Got it," Evelyn announced. A complex, web-like diagram filled one of the monitors. It was a multi-layered map of pipes and tunnels beneath the city. "This is the main trunk line for this sector. And look." She pointed to a specific point on the map. "There's a storm drain access hatch right in the P-4 parking level. The one we just came from."
Another point on the map glowed. "And this maintenance nexus is directly beneath Mercy General Hospital."
The path was there. It was a winding, treacherous-looking route, but it was a path.
Leo looked at the monitor one last time, at the unmoving image of his sister. He burned it into his memory. Then he turned to Evelyn. "Thank you. For everything. But this is where we part ways."
Evelyn looked taken aback. "What? You can't be serious. You can't go down there alone."
"I have to," Leo said, his voice gentle but firm. "It's too dangerous, and you'll slow me down. No offense. Your skills are up here," he tapped his head. "Down there, you need a different kind. You should stay here. It's the most secure place in the city. You have food from the emergency locker, water, and access to information. You can survive here."
She opened her mouth to argue, but then closed it. She looked around the secure office, then at the hellish landscape outside the lobby doors. He was right. Her chances of survival were exponentially higher in this steel-and-concrete box than in a filth-choked sewer tunnel.
"What about you?" she asked, her voice quiet.
"I'm a janitor," he said, giving her a small, grim smile. "I'm used to working alone in the dark."
Their goodbyes were brief and unsentimental. There was no time for anything else. He showed her how to re-engage the security door's internal lock, then turned and walked out of the office for the last time. He didn't look back.
The journey back down to P-4 was faster this time. His fear hadn't vanished, but it had been reforged into a sharp, focused purpose. He found the storm drain access hatch easily. It was a simple, round, cast-iron manhole cover set into the concrete floor.
Using his improvised rebar crowbar, he pried it open. The smell that billowed out was vile, a choking miasma of sewage, rot, and chemicals. It was the smell of a city's forgotten underbelly. He stared down into the perfect, circular darkness. This was the point of no return.
He took a deep breath, clipped the flashlight to his belt, and descended the rusted iron rungs of the ladder.
The tunnel was claustrophobic. It was a round, brick-lined pipe about seven feet in diameter. A shallow, sluggish stream of murky water flowed down the center, filled with unidentifiable filth. The only light was the beam of his flashlight, cutting a sharp, lonely cone through the oppressive darkness.
He began to walk, following the path from the map he had memorized. The acoustics were nightmarish. Every splash of his boots, every drip of water from the ceiling, echoed endlessly.
He'd been walking for what felt like an hour when he saw the first sign of life. Or, rather, undeath. Ahead of him, caught on a grate, was a corpse. But it was moving. It was a bloated, pale thing that had been washed down from the streets above. Its flesh was sloughing off its bones, but its eyes glowed with a faint, malevolent green light. The System identified it as a Lvl 2 Drowned Creeper, a low-level undead.
It turned its head as he approached, letting out a gurgling moan, and began to drag itself out of the water toward him.
Leo didn't hesitate. He drew the collapsible baton and flicked his wrist. It extended to its full length with a satisfying shink. He moved forward, his steps sure in the shallow water. The Creeper lunged, its rotting fingers grasping for him. Leo sidestepped, brought the steel baton down in a sharp, brutal arc, and caved its skull in with a wet crunch. The green light in its eyes faded.
[You have killed Lvl 2 Drowned Creeper. +20 XP.]
It was a pittance of XP, but the encounter was significant. It confirmed what he already knew: the sewers were not empty.
He continued on, encountering more of the Drowned Creepers. They were slow, weak, and stupid. He dispatched them with a cold, mechanical efficiency, his movements becoming more practiced with each kill. This wasn't a fight for survival; this was pest control. This was his job.
After another hour, the tunnel began to change. It widened, opening into a larger, square-shaped junction where several pipes converged. In the center of the junction was a deep, swirling pool of black, stagnant water. This was one of the nexuses on the map.
And it was occupied.
Huddled on the far side of the junction were creatures he hadn't seen before. They were small, vaguely humanoid, and their skin was a pale, sickly white. They had long, stringy black hair and large, black, sightless eyes. They were hunched over something, tearing at it with sharp, yellowed teeth. Goblins. No, Sewer Goblins, the System clarified. Lvl 6. A whole pack of them.
This was a much greater threat. They were higher level, and there were at least a dozen of them.
Leo flattened himself against the wall of the tunnel, just out of sight, and doused his flashlight. He peered around the corner. The goblins were making guttural, chittering noises as they fed on the carcass of some unfortunate creature that had washed downstream.
He couldn't fight them head-on. He was Level 5. A pack of Level 6 creatures would overwhelm him. He needed an advantage. He needed to use the environment.
His eyes scanned the junction. He saw the deep, swirling pool of water. He saw the slick, algae-covered brickwork. And he saw the large, rusted iron wheel on the wall above the goblins—a sluice gate control, designed to regulate the flow of water.
A plan, as filthy and brilliant as his surroundings, began to take shape.
He looked at the shallow stream of water he was standing in. He looked at the deep pool. He thought about his [Mop Up] skill. He could move water. He could move a lot of water.
He smiled in the darkness. It was time to flush the toilet.