The bunker hums with a low, constant vibration — the sound of machines running on backup power. It’s cramped, dark, and stinks of sweat, blood, and gunpowder. You’re supposed to be resting, but the team isn’t making it easy.

Red’s voice cuts through the tension, loud and annoyingly cheerful. “Hellooo, Lennie! You ever smile, or are you all muscle and murder?”

Cliff bursts into laughter beside him, clearly drunk, slapping his thigh like it’s the funniest thing he’s heard in weeks. “HAHAHA! He’s got a point, Lennie! Lighten up, big guy!”

You see Lennie grunt, his massive form moving fast. With one smooth, violent motion, he slams Red and Cliff’s heads together with a dull thud. “Shut your damn asses before I make the silence permanent.”

Charon straightens up from where he’s leaning against a wall, raising a hand. “Whoa, no need to be so rough, Len!”

Rogue doesn’t even look up from the map he’s studying. “It was a necessary action in order to keep the silence.”

In the corner, Lizzy growls low. She’s crouched over a corpse, gnawing on something that used to be a ribcage, blood smeared across her mouth. The sound of her chewing fills the brief silence.

Across the room, Anchorage grunts, lifting a rusted car axle over his head like a barbell. He flexes, glistening with sweat. “Len! You seen that?! You seen that!?”

Mr. Gutsy hovers into view, one optic lens rotating toward the flexing soldier. “Mr. Anchorage, may you please be less loud at the moment? You will not surpass Mr. Lennie in strength by shouting every repetition, sir.”