Trace aimed at the next enemy. This one was of the tall, ugly, bristle-haired things. He squeezed the trigger again, pleased to see that the bullet passed through its natural armor. The ammo the assault rifle was using was rated for low-grade heavy armor, which was overkill for these things.

  The assault rifle that RapidStrike was carrying was normal and had ammo-rated for medium-grade armor. It should have been fine to take care of these things as well, though he might have had to hit them more than once.

  Monroe’s rifle had no such problems. Instead, Trace simply needed to maintain his aim, which was only manageable because of his new arm.

  He began backing up, firing as he went. Each shot eliminating a target. No matter where he hit them, they went down and stayed down.

  The edgers that had been fighting them weren’t stopping either. They continued fighting, doing their part. Now that they were a little less pressed and could pick their shots with a little more care, their guns began to actually work against the creatures.

  Chitin shattered, skulls cracked, and pygmies screamed as they all fell beneath the onslaught.

  The barrel of the assault rifle was smoking when the last one fell, and silence reigned in the tunnel. With how much noise they had made, Trace was glad he had been wearing the earbuds. Several of the edgers hadn’t been wearing any ear protection and were now playing with their ears.

  “I need to go check on the other groups. Can any of you come with me, or check on the last tunnel?” He asked.

  The man with the sword raised his hand. “I’ll come with you. What happened to the rest of your group, though?”

  “The tunnel we chose headed downward. Before we realized it, the place was filled with poison gases and no oxygen. I got off light and called my job broker for advice. He, in turn, called emergency service for them, and backup for the rest of us. It’ll take a while for the backup to arrive from the city, obviously.”

  The four that still had ammo said that they would inspect the last tunnel. The remaining five of which, four were rather seriously injured, would be staying back in the main section of the hole.

  They helped the injured back down the tunnel and left them lying on the broken concrete slabs. The woman with the knife would look after them and perform basic first aid while they were gone.

  “I’m Tune,” He said, introducing himself to the sword-wielding edger as they entered the next tunnel over.

  “Kenshin,” The man replied simply, flipping his blade around as he dragged it across a portion of his sleeve to clean it. “Thank you for coming to rescue us. I doubt all of us would have made it out of that situation without your help.”

  Trace nodded once, keeping his eyes on the tunnel ahead. “Was that your team back there, then?”

  “Somewhat, nothing official. We only team up when the job requires it. The rest of the time, we simply do our own jobs. There is no real benefit to doing it our way, except I suppose you could say we enjoy our freedom. The creation of an official team comes with certain implied obligations.”

  “Like what?”

  Kenshin shook his head with a wry grin. “Nothing that actually matters. If you create the team, then all members are expected to show up for jobs or contribute to team-specific equipment. Things like that. It’s something that we already do. However, having it as something of an implied requirement, instead of just a voluntary action, would chafe at us.”

  The man chuckled. “Two of our members, SpitFire and GreaseStain, used to be married to each other. It was an absolute disaster. They were arguing all the time, over every little thing you can imagine. Money, cyberware, ammo, guns, jobs, food, you name it, and they argued about it. The thing is, they almost never argued before they got married. Anyway, they stayed together for nearly a year, just arguing the entire and dragging us all in whenever we were around.

  “Then finally they split and avoided each other for like two months. The next time they saw each other, their faces became glued together, and they were back to normal. They’re back to being boyfriend and girlfriend again, and happier for it. Some people just don’t like formal commitments. That’s my group summed up.”

  “Weird, but okay. As long as it works for you.” Trace answered with a shrug.

  They continued down the tunnel, occasionally coming across a body or two of the creatures. This team had definitely seen more initial action than either of their groups had.

  There was no breeze this far underground, and the air was a constant temperature that soon had them both sweating. It even started to bring back Trace’s headache from earlier. The original cause had settled down, but there were still some lingering effects he hadn’t been aware of.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  The nanites had been so busy filtering the poison gas and working on his lungs that the work on his overheated brain had slowed.

  The first mile of the tunnel passed at a brisk jog, while the second went by at a fast walk.

  They were both wearing armor and carrying bags. The constant unmoving air had started to make everything feel hotter than it was.

  By the time they passed the third mile, Trace had no choice but to bust out one of his sodas and gulp it down. The taste of the soda disguised the flavor and smell of the foul water they used in it, even more so when it was cold. As a warm beverage, hints of unclean water spread across the tongue, while the floral notes of death and sewage trickled up through the roof of the mouth to the nose. The worse part though, was the scum that clung to the tongue when you were done with the drink. When it was cold, it would only rarely appear. As a warm liquid, it was sometimes thick enough that you could physically peel it away with your fingers.

  Trace gagged and spat a globule of scum out of his mouth, wiping his mouth with the back of his hands afterward. “Ugh, I’m not sure I’m going to be able to drink this brand again for a while after that.”

  Kenshin shook his head. “I did a job for a couple of corpos in the center of Denver once. The megastructure they lived in had its own water filtration system installed on top of the city’s. The couple then had their own personal three filters set up in the apartment to catch anything at the last stage.” The man looked up at the ceiling and licked his lips. “I’ve never had anything like it. The water was so good and so pure. There was no smell, no taste, no scum. It was perfect!”

  Trace couldn’t even imagine it. “I bet that place was expensive.”

  The edger nodded. “Oh, yeah. They were pretty high up in the corporation they worked for. But the apartment was also inherited from the woman’s parents, otherwise, they still wouldn’t have been able to afford it.”

  Ahead of them, they heard the sound of gunfire and could tell that they were getting close. Ignoring the increasing number of bodies on the ground, and sweat dripping from their brows, they ran ahead.

  The team of twelve were all leaning against the wall of the tunnel when Trace and Kenshin found them a minute later. They were covered in scratches, light injuries, and a few heavier, but not life-threatening wounds. At the moment, they were discussing the need to turn back while inspecting their ammo stores.

  Four of them snapped their weapons into place, aiming them at Trace and Kenshin as they appeared, while the rest aimed in the other direction.

  “Whoa, hold on,” Trace called out, slowing his pace. “We’re from two of the other tunnels. We’ve been asked to check on the other teams and have them come back to the opening. Backup will be arriving in the next couple of hours, and they’ll be taking over everything.”

  “What sort of backup?” One of them asked in a painfully dry-sounding voice.

  “I was told higher-tier edgers and whichever specialists could be reached.”

  “Good, at least someone understands this ain’t no low-tier job. We’re still getting paid though, right?”

  “Ugh, I would think so. I don’t know. I didn’t think to ask at the time. I had more pressing concerns at the time.” Trace said. “Listen, we’ve delivered the message. If you want to stay here and keep fighting these things and wasting ammo, be my guest, but I’m heading back.”

  Together, he and Kenshin backed away from the team, not turning away from them until they had gained some serious distance.

  “What do you think they’ll do?” Kenshin wondered as they jogged back toward the hole.

  “I couldn’t tell you. I don’t think it’s normal for most teams to keep going like that when they’re in that condition. They must have had some reason to keep pushing forward for as long as they did.”

  “True, we didn’t come down here to fight but to inspect the place. I’d say going two miles in, and fighting even an eighth of what they have surely covers that.” The other man said with a curious backward glance.

  Back in the main part of the pit, it was much cooler. Their sweat-laden bodies actually served to almost make them chilly as they collapsed on whichever flat chunk of fallen concrete they could find.

  The four who had gone down the last tunnel had yet to return.

  Meanwhile, the woman with the knife, who turned out to be SpitFire, had finished patching up the last of their teammates. She was currently in the middle of a video call with her job broker.

  “RhiVeen, I swear to you, if you call this a tier two job one more time, I am going to find you and smack that silly cyberware nose right off your face! Would you look at this ugly pygmy looking thing, and I’ve already sent you photos of the other two types we ran into down here. These things aren’t normal, and they aren’t aberrations either. They’re something else, and I want the team to be paid at the right tier.” There was a pause, and then the woman growled. “You’ve never cared that we weren’t a proper team in the past.”

  Trace tuned the conversation out, as it was none of his business. Ejecting the magazine from the assault rifle, he checked how many rounds were left in it before popping it back in place. Six shots, not a lot, but too many for him to justify switching to a new magazine.

  The ground rumbled as a cloud of dirt suddenly spewed out from the last tunnel. The same one that the four members of Kenshin’s team had gone down.

  Springing to their feet, Trace and Kenshin ran over to the tunnel. Meanwhile, SpitFire hung up her call and joined them, each breathlessly waiting for the air to clear. They couldn’t enter until it did so, and they couldn’t see anything until then either.

  Well, the others couldn’t. Trace didn’t have that difficulty. He switched his vision to infrared thermal and peered into the depths of the tunnel. It took a few seconds, but soon he was able to see four people picking themselves up off the floor.

  “I can see four people,” He announced, covering his mouth with the crook of his arm. “I don’t see anyone behind them though.”

  Kenshin leaned closer to the tunnel opening, coughing as his nose became clogged with dirt. “How can you even see anything? The air is still thick with dirt and dust.”

  “I’ve got some good eyes,” Trace replied helpfully, as the four began stumbling towards them. “Here they come.”

  Over the course of the next minute, the three were inundated with the sound of coughing and people hacking up phlegmy balls of mud. Finally, the four stumbled clear of the tunnel, completely unrecognizable from before as they were covered head to toe in a thick layer of dirt.

  https://www.amazon.com/author/joshuakern

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