It’s dark.
Dark, and stuffy. Markus coughs, spits grime, reaches up a hand to wipe his mouth - but the hand is gritty, dirty, covered in dust.
Markus shifts, presses a palm against the wall. Rough, irregular surface - oh, oh god. It’s the cave, the cave with the ammunition storage. And now it’s collapsed, and he’s trapped, he’s trapped
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