The Surface
Dust rained down, gritty and tasting of decay. Ethan coughed, hacking the residue of the Mimic hive from his lungs. He braced himself against a chunk of shattered concrete, the vibrations from the ongoing collapse still shuddering through the earth. Around him, the remnants of their team emerged from the ragged opening that had once been a service entrance. Marcus, his face streaked with grime and dried blood, helped a limping Maria forward. Sergeant Reynolds, his usual stoic demeanor cracked, simply sat on a pile of rubble, staring blankly ahead.