BLOODCAPE

The stairwell spiraled tighter the farther down they went. Every turn felt like a narrowing throat. Frost clung to the railings and steps, hairline cracks spreading in the ice like veins under glass. The air here wasn’t just cold. It was sterile, abandoned, sharp in the lungs like something that had been filtered too many times for too long. Not dead — preserved.

Each level felt more forgotten than the last.

Nico exhaled, fogging his visor, and tugged his collar higher. "This feels like the beginning of every horror film I’ve ever avoided."

"Cryo ops were shut down twelve years ago," Hernan said. His voice didn’t register the joke. "Officially."

Gemini didn’t speak. She walked slower now, her boots almost silent on the metal. She kept glancing upward — not for threats, but as if something might come uncoiled behind them. Not fear. Anticipation.

The final landing opened into a long, frost-laced corridor with blank walls and flickering emergency strips buried under grime. Hernan moved ahead with quiet certainty, passing a set of sealed doors without hesitation.

He stopped beside a rusted panel.

"Access used to be here," he murmured, running gloved fingers over a strip of wall where no markings remained.

Nico gave a sideways glance. "Used to be? What, were you cryogenically cleaning this place in your off hours?"

Before Hernan could respond, Gemini brushed past him and found the latch under a false panel. She pried it open, exposing a faded manual override. The light blinked orange — low power. Sleep mode.

"You two rehearsing this?" Nico muttered. But no one laughed.