The occult geyser didn't spit them out into the ruined sunlight of Los Angeles.
The pressurized blast carried them upward through hundreds of feet of packed earth, riding a shockwave of shattered petrified wood. Just as the momentum began to die, the rock above them gave way to something entirely unnatural.
A thick layer of reinforced plasteel shattered upward with a deafening crack.
The Faction was thrown through the breach, crashing hard onto cold metal grating. Will skidded across the dim industrial catwalk, his armor scraping a shower of sparks against the steel before his shoulder slammed into a guardrail, bringing him to a brutal halt.
He lay there, staring up at a ceiling made of polished concrete and embedded halogen strips.
