 stepping into their exchange. The authority in Taylor's voice brooked no argument; it was their way of pulling everyone back to the now.

Alex's response was measured, more assertive than moments ago. "Acknowledged, Agent Cruz," he replied, his voice steadier, mirroring the transformation brewing within. He gripped his rifle with a newfound firmness. "Let's proceed."

As they congregated at the elevator, a tension palpable, Sam Rivera piped in with a tone of balanced levity, "Hope everyone’s brought their good luck charms. Something tells me we’re going to need all the help we can get."

Their laughter served as a brief respite from the gravity of their mission, a shared moment that reinforced their common humanity amidst the unknowable. Then, as one, they stepped into the elevator. The doors closed with a silent hiss, and they descended into the darkness together, aware that when they returned, if they returned, none of them would be the same.

\*

The sense of foreboding hung heavier than the darkness that the artificial lights of the elevator shaft failed to fully penetrate. The team was descending into the earth, carrying with them not only the weight of their equipment but also the silent pressure of the invisible war they were about to fight—a war that seemed to edge away from physicality and into the unnervingly psychological.

As they descended, Dr. Jordan Hayes couldn't help but muse over the layers of data that could wait below, now almost longing for the comfort of empirical evidence. _To think that this reluctance to accept other possibilities may have been my biggest blind spot,_ Jordan contemplated, feeling the hard shell of skepticism begin to crack.

Alex caught Jordan's reflective gaze and leaned in, his voice barely a murmur over the hum of the elevator. "Once we're down there, keep that analytical edge sharp. You see through the mazes of the unexplained better than anyone."

The compliment was unexpected and weighed differently than praise from others. This was an acknowledgment from someone who stood on the front lines of the unknown with eyes wide open. "Thank you, Alex," Jordan said, the words carrying a trace of newfound assertiveness. "You can count on me."

The exchange was cut short by a shudder that ran through the elevator, subtle, but enough to make them instinctively hold their breaths. It wasn't the mechanical stutter of old gears but a vibration that seemed to emanate from the very walls of the shaft—a whisper of something that defied natural explanation.

Cruz was the first to react, all business despite the shadow that crossed their expression. "Systems check. Now," they barked out, masking the moment of disquiet with swift command.

Every agent checked their gear, sending confirmation signals through their comms, creating a chorus of electronic beeps that promised readiness. But there was an unspoken question among them: was their technology, their weaponry, their protocols sufficient for