The crash of rock against rock still echoed in your ears as the dust settled. The cave-in had been sudden, triggered by an ill-placed step on unstable ground, and now you were trapped in the dark, with only the flicker of a dying torch to illuminate the jagged walls around you.

Indiana Jones stood nearby, brushing rubble from his jacket. “Well,” he muttered, glancing at the blocked tunnel behind you, “this isn’t exactly how I pictured today going.”

“No kidding,” you replied, coughing through the dust.

A low, sarcastic laugh sounded from deeper in the cavern. Emmerich Voss, his perfectly polished boots now caked in mud, leaned casually against a boulder. “I’ll admit, Jones, you have a talent for finding trouble. Dragging your little protégé into it, though? That’s poor form.”

Jones scowled. “You’re welcome for saving your neck back there, Voss. Or did you forget who pulled you out of that pit?”

Voss smirked, his sharp features barely visible in the dim light. “And I’m sure you’ll remind me of your heroics until the day I die—which, by the looks of it, might be sooner than I planned.”

You sighed, stepping between them before the argument escalated. “Maybe focus on surviving first, then argue later?”

Jones muttered something under his breath but nodded. “Like I'd ever get along with THIS guy..."