Resonance Unbound

The journey to the underground stretched on far longer than expected, dragging into several grueling days filled with constant interruptions.

The old, battered vehicle they had hitched a ride in sputtered and groaned as if every kilometer it traveled might be its last. Each breakdown was met with a colorful string of curses from the driver, who would climb out, kick the rusted frame a few times, and fiddle under the hood until the engine grudgingly roared back to life.

This exhausting routine became so frequent it bordered on absurdity.

If the mechanical failures weren't bad enough, they had to contend with gangs patrolling the area.

Their stops were tense and invasive, the gang members eyeing Shirley's pack with thinly veiled suspicion. Their gazes lingered too long, assessing, calculating. Ezra could feel the weight of their scrutiny pressing down like a heavy hand.

Yet Shirley, ever the seasoned traveler, remained calm, his no-nonsense demeanor enough to ward off further questioning. But even his composure couldn't speed up the delays, and each encounter added precious hours to their already drawn-out journey.

By the third day, the car's interior was thick with the stifling mix of cigarette smoke, frustration, and exhaustion.

The driver, a grizzled man with tobacco-stained teeth and a balding head, grumbled incessantly about the cursed roads, the gangs, and the damned rift zones that had made travel such a dangerous ordeal.

Ezra slumped in his seat, staring out of the grimy window, his forehead pressed against the cool glass. "Remind me again why we're doing this?" he muttered under his breath.

Shirley shot him a sidelong glance, his face fixed in its usual scowl. "Because we're broke, kid. Unless you've got a secret stash of cash somewhere, this is how we survive."

Ezra didn't reply, his lips pressing into a thin line as he continued watching the barren landscape blur past.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the car screeched to a halt in front of a dark, foreboding tunnel. The entrance loomed like the maw of some ancient beast, shrouded in shadows and overgrown with vines. It looked less like an entryway and more like a warning.

"All right, lads, we're here," the driver announced, his raspy voice cutting through the stillness.

Shirley climbed out first, scanning their surroundings with a practiced eye. Satisfied, he nodded for Ezra to follow.

As Ezra stepped out, Shirley rummaged through his pack before standing upright and taking a deep breath. Then he held out his hand.

"Ezra, you little thief. Give me my blade."

"Huh?" Ezra turned, confusion plastered across his face. He patted his pockets, only to feel the familiar shape of the blade. "Oh," he muttered sheepishly.

"Sorry." He handed it to Shirley, who rolled his eyes but took it without further comment.

The old driver's eyes widened slightly as he saw the weapon. He reached out and turned it over in his hands, a glimmer of awe crossing his weathered face.

"This… this can't be the real thing. The blade of… Do you have any idea how much this is worth?"

Shirley's tone was flat, his patience clearly thin. "Do you want it or not?"

The driver hesitated for only a moment before nodding, his fingers clutching the blade as though it might vanish. "Word of advice, though—be careful down there. It ain't like up here."

With that, the driver climbed back into his decrepit vehicle, the engine coughing to life as he drove away, leaving a cloud of smoke and dust in his wake.

Shirley turned to Ezra, eyeing him critically. "Ah, that reminds me… come here."

"What—?" Ezra started, but Shirley ignored him, stepping forward and pressing something cool and metallic against Ezra's ear.

The sensation made Ezra flinch. "Hey! What was that for?" he demanded, rubbing at his ear as Shirley took a step back to inspect his handiwork.

"Disguise," Shirley said gruffly. "You'll attract less attention now."

Ezra frowned, running a hand through his hair. "What kind of disguise?"

"You're as plain as a rock now. Congratulations," Shirley said dryly, clearly uninterested in further explanations.

Then Shirley's expression shifted, his tone turning serious as he locked eyes with Ezra. "Listen up, kid. Whatever you see, hear, smell, or touch down there, keep quiet. There's no law in the underground, and trouble doesn't need an invitation."

Ezra opened his mouth to respond, but Shirley raised a hand to cut him off. "Don't talk unless I tell you to. Don't interact with anyone. Keep your head down, look straight ahead, and for the love of everything, don't go looking for trouble. Do you understand?"

Ezra hesitated, his natural inclination to argue bubbling up, but the sharp, warning look Shirley gave him made him rethink. He nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, sure. I mean, c'mon—"

Shirley's glare deepened, silencing him immediately.

"Good," Shirley said, his tone brooking no argument. "Let's go."

With that, they stepped into the dark tunnel, the shadows swallowing them whole. The world above faded behind them, replaced by the suffocating weight of the underground's foreboding silence.