The emergency hatch slammed shut behind them with a jolt of rusted metal, locking out the footsteps of the approaching attackers. Darkness swallowed them whole. The only light came from the red LED on Darius's shoulder flashlight, casting long shadows along the maintenance tunnel's wet, narrow walls.
Ethan gripped the cold drive tightly in one hand, his breathing shallow. Darius crouched ahead, weapon drawn, eyes trained on the tunnel's bend.
"Any idea where this leads?" Ethan whispered.
"If Marcus built it right—an access tunnel into the old limestone drainage system," Darius replied. "But I've never been this deep in."
"Convenient," Ethan muttered.
"Trust me, I'd rather be upstairs with a full kit. But here we are."
Behind them, a distant clang echoed—metal against stone. They weren't alone.
"Go," Darius urged. "I'll cover our exit."
They moved quickly, boots splashing through inch-deep water. The walls closed in tighter the farther they went. Dust clung to their coats. Mold lined the air vents.
Around the next bend, the tunnel split.
Darius paused. "Left climbs up. Right goes deeper."
Ethan glanced at the flickering red arrow etched into the wall—painted decades ago.
"We follow the decay," he said. "If Ghost 02 found this place, they probably rigged the primary route."
Darius nodded. "Smart."
They veered right, descending further underground. The ground turned slick. Somewhere above, a muffled explosion boomed—a concussive shock rattling dust from the ceiling.
"They're not being subtle," Ethan said.
"They want what's in that drive," Darius replied. "Which means they didn't get it from Marcus."
After another hundred meters, they reached a reinforced door embedded into the stone. Darius pulled out a utility tool and pried open the panel beside it. Sparks danced as he bypassed the old wiring.
Ethan waited, ears tuned for footsteps.
The door hissed open.
Beyond: a disused maintenance chamber, reeking of rust and oil. A rusted ladder led up to a bolted manhole cover.
"This is it," Darius said. "Street access."
Ethan climbed first, forcing the cover open with a grunt. Cold night air rushed in. They emerged into a narrow alleyway behind a shuttered factory.
Darius followed, sealing the cover behind them.
Geneva's night sky loomed above—cloudy, dim, anonymous. Perfect cover.
They didn't speak for several blocks. Only after they reached a parked getaway car did Ethan finally exhale.
He sat behind the wheel, drive still clutched. "We need to move fast. Before that fire spreads."
Darius loaded the backup gear into the trunk. "Agreed. We lay low. Reassess. Then contact the Zurich node again."
Ethan looked at him. "You still trust them?"
"I trust they don't want HELIX falling into the wrong hands."
"And you think ours are the right ones?"
Darius paused. "Better ours than Ghost 02's."
They drove west.
Two hours later, they reached an abandoned rest stop off the highway near Nyon. Darius secured the perimeter while Ethan booted up a secondary laptop and connected the drive.
Data flickered to life: encrypted documents, schematics, surveillance records. One file stood out: PROJECT CITADEL.
Ethan opened it.
Dozens of names scrolled past. CEOs. Generals. Politicians.
All marked with a single word: ASSET.
"What the hell is this?" he whispered.
Darius leaned over. "That's Marcus's real legacy. He didn't just build HELIX. He built a web of influence."
Ethan's eyes scanned the list. One name jumped out.
"Cassian Roarke."
Darius stiffened. "You sure?"
Ethan double-checked. "Listed as secondary handler. Access level RED."
Darius muttered, "That explains his disappearing act after Zurich."
Another folder: VAULT_SIGMA.
He clicked it open. Inside: videos. Surveillance footage.
One file: timestamped seven years ago. Location: Istanbul.
Ethan played it.
On screen: Marcus Alden. Meeting a woman in a dark coat. The same woman who intercepted them in the Marseille vault.
Ghost 02.
"Pause," Ethan said. "Zoom on her badge."
Darius enhanced the image.
A symbol appeared—two intersecting circles with a vertical line. Ethan didn't recognize it.
"Not military. Not corporate," Darius said. "That's ghost architecture. Clandestine."
"She was working with Marcus?"
"Or against him. Hard to tell from a single clip."
Another video played automatically.
This time: a recording from Marcus's Geneva estate—timestamped days before his death.
Marcus sat alone, speaking to camera.
"If this reaches you, Ethan... then I failed to contain what I created. Ghost 02 has breached our final gate. The others are compromised. Trust no one. If you choose to continue—know that even Darius may not survive what's coming. Not because he'll betray you, but because they'll come for him too."
Ethan sat frozen.
Darius stepped back. "He knew the whole play before it started."
"He always did," Ethan said quietly. "And he still handed me the torch."
He closed the laptop.
Silence stretched.
Finally, Darius asked, "What's the next move?"
Ethan turned toward the window. Snow began to fall again—gentle flakes in the sodium-orange light.
"We find Cassian," he said. "He holds the last path to Project ECHO."
"And if he won't talk?"
Ethan looked him dead in the eye.
"Then we break the rules. Just like Marcus did."
The road ahead narrowed, but Ethan no longer hesitated.
Not after Marseille. Not after Ghost 02. Not after hearing his father's voice, echoing from the past.
He was done being the pawn.
It was time to become the player.