"This is new," Soap, a wolf-human hybrid, quipped as he stood before the obsidian frame. Gaz, a parrot hybrid, stood beside him, flint and steel in hand.

"Everything's new when it comes to communism in hell, Soap." Price, a goat hybrid, answered from behind. "Gaz, light it." Gaz followed the order. He struck the steel against the flint a few times, before a spark flew off and hit the obsidian, creating a purple portal with swirling patterns.

"No time to gawk. Get in." Price ordered, shoving Soap forward. The Scot grumbled before he went in, Price behind him, then Gaz and Ghost, who's a piglin brute hybrid. The sight that greeted them was a hellish landscape none of them had seen before—minus Ghost, who'd left years ago.

They began to walk, trying to find the root of the issue. The issue they'd been alerted of was some sort of communist slavery, but so far, they didn't see anything but lava, magma, glowstone, and lava below. But there was no way they could question the report, purely by judging their surroundings.

And they were smart to trudge through because when they came accross a Bastion, it was tragic. Ghast and ghast hybrids were chained up. They looked dehydrated and had burns around their mouths, and most of the dehydrated ones were children. Even Ghost, who was usually stoic and deadpan, looked shocked in his slightly widened eyes.