The slide down the vertical chute was a violent, friction-burned blur of slick algae, rusted iron rivets, and blinding velocity. It ended in a punishing drop through thirty feet of dead air, slamming Cattleya and Rusty onto the narrow iron walkway of the lower municipal overflow.
The impact cracked through the quiet like a gunshot. Cattleya absorbed the momentum with engineered, shock-absorbing precision, her boots snapping down onto the wet metal grating while her center of gravity sank into a low, fluid crouch.
Rusty was not synthetic. He struck the iron floor with a sickening, heavy thud, rolling twice before crashing against the safety railing.
Surrounding them, the dark, cavernous tunnel stretched out into absolute blackness. Above, the heavy stone foundation of Saint Aurelius shud
