Stan gasped and filled his mouth with dirt and dust. His throat convulsed at the grit in his teeth, and he gagged. He rolled over, and his body jerked to a stop barely as he’d begun to move, his left arm and both legs pinned.

What’s happening?

Pain rolled over him like the evening tide, washing across his chest and back and abdomen in great tumbling waves, breakers on the shore, pounding great rocks into sand.

The world had gone dark. It smelled like copper, tasted like dust.

Where am I?

Tears squeezed from the corners of his eyes.

Oh, stop that. You’re not crying now. Pull yourself together, lad. He pulled his left arm, trying to dislodge it from whatever held it down, but it wouldn’t budge.

His breath rattled in his lungs, a fresh blast of pain flaring across his chest.

Oh, right. I got stabbed. He let his head fall back against the earth with a clank. In that case, I can cry a bit.

Blinking the dust from his eyes, he peered into the darkness, desperate to see something, anything.  

They’d been on the street, fighting soldiers. What had happened? How had he ended up underground?

As he stared into the black, vague shapes formed in the shadows. Rough, jagged edges along what might have been a ceiling. Smooth rounded lines in the curve of the wall. Straight angles of a rigid platform.

What is this? A tube station?

“Oh, buttons.”

He turned his head to face the other wall and stared until his eyes adjusted, tracing the curve of the opposite wall with its carved concrete facade like a waffle.

Craning his neck, he stretched backward as far as he could to look behind. Far in the distance, he could barely see the lines of the tunnel and the rails gliding away into the shadows.

I’m on the tracks.

The brief flash of panic faded quickly. He might have been on the tracks, but he hadn’t been electrocuted. If the rails had been live, surely he would have fried—armor or not. That he was still breathing meant the station was abandoned.

I hope.

He pulled on his arm again, but he couldn’t get free. The massive chunk of concrete wasn’t going anywhere, so neither was he.

Maybe his legs? He shifted in the loose dirt, twisting his knees, his ankles—nothing.

He swallowed, his dry mouth tacky and foul.

“All right, Kagami.” He shut his eyes. “Any chance you can help with this?”

Stan focused on the feel of the rubble crushing his legs, the weight of the boulder pinning down his arm, and he allowed the sense of helplessness to permeate his mind. If anyone could get him out of this, it was Kagami.

The warmth of Kagami’s presence touched his mind like the cool slide of water across overheated skin. His armor glowed faintly blue in the darkness.

“Is that you saying try again?”

Stan pulled his arm, his legs, and the rocks didn’t dislodge.

He sighed and laid his head down again.

“I think we need to work on your communication, mate.”

A crash and a bang shook the other end of the cavernous station.

Was the rest of it coming down?

He flung his free arm over his face and squeezed his eyes shut. But the rest of the ceiling didn’t come down. No more chunks of rubble pommeled him. Kagami emitted a soft glow against the darkness that formed shadows from the jagged knives of concrete.

Footsteps clanked against the dirt floor.

Someone’s coming. A soldier?

“Stan?”

Stan blinked the grit out of his eyes, his vision clearing enough to make out an orange spike-covered helmet in the dark.

“Karl?” Stan’s voice came out in a rasp.

“Geez.” The clank of Karl’s armor got louder as he hurried to the rubble pile and knelt down. “What happened?” He poked and prodded the rocks that pinned Stan to the ground.

“The road collapsed.” Stan struggled to speak, the wound beneath his armor throbbing with every breath.

“So where are we?”

“Looks like an old tube station,” Stan said.

“Then why aren’t there any people?” Karl peered over the top of the pile of concrete.

“Probably abandoned. Washington DC is a fairly old city by American standards.” Stan offered a smile, but even that hurt. “Lots of tunnels. Lots of layers.”

Karl knelt again. “Hang on a sec, Fish Face.”

“Karl.” Stan reached for his arm. “Make sure you don’t dislodge anything. You could bring the whole bloody place down.”

A shadow crossed Karl’s usually cheerful face as he nodded and stood. His clanking footfalls echoed in the cavern as he rounded the pile of rocks and debris.

“Lucky for you, Fish Face. This particular pile of rocks isn’t going to be a problem.”

“Thank God.”

Karl set his hands on the first boulder and paused. “Hey, didn’t you get stabbed?”

Stan shut his eyes and laid his head down. “Aye, mate.” He patted his chest plate. “Right here.”

“Sucks to be you.”

“Thanks.”

Karl flashed a grin at him, his teeth shining in the dark. The orange samurai grabbed two ends of the first chunk of concrete and rolled his head on his shoulders.

“All right, Shiren, old buddy. Let’s do this.” Karl dug his armored fingers into the concrete and rocked backward with a grunt, lifting the huge piece of street upward and over his head. He tossed it down the tunnel, and it rolled a few feet before it stopped.

Stan took a slow breath, some of the weight relieved. As his lungs filled with air, they thrummed with the sensation of a deep bruise, the hollow ache of internal bleeding.

Not good.

Karl bent at the knees and grabbed the chunk of Connecticut Street that pinned Stan’s arm and hefted it over his head as though it weighed less than a sack of mulch. Shiren flared with orange light around him with every motion, the Reishosan Armor of Strength living up to its name.

The second to last rock shifted on top of the pile that still pinned San’s legs, and it tumbled forward. Stan yelped and threw his hands out in front of himself.

Karl stopped the rock’s fall with one hand.

“Easy, Stan. I got it.” Karl stepped over him, pulled the unstable boulder into a bear hug, and carried it into the darkness.

Stan gasped a deeper breath as the crushing weight of the last boulder lifted from his legs. He felt the sting of the breath in his chest, but it didn’t stop him from breathing. That had to be a good sign, right?

He sat up slowly and shifted his legs. Nothing broken, despite the dents and cracks up and down his shin guards. Karl set a hand on his shoulder and knelt.

“All right?”

Stan nodded. “I think so.”

“But you got stabbed.” Karl poked his chest plate. “Like—right there.”

Stan flatted his palm over the area where the sword blade had punctured his chest. “I feel it still.”

Karl bent over and squinted. “There’s no hole. Did Kagami heal it?”

“On the outside maybe. Inside still feels a bit bruised.” Stan grabbed his arm. “Help me up.”

“Sure you should be moving?”

“No, it’s a much better idea to sit around in an unstable abandoned tunnel and wait to be crushed by a cave in.”

Karl frowned thoughtfully. “When you put it that way.” He gripped Stan’s elbow and helped the boy to his feet.

Stan wavered unsteadily, not releasing Karl’s arm. He shook his head. The air around them buzzed with energy, like the honeycomb-styled walls might be full of actual bees.

“Hey.”

Stan blinked up into his friend’s face.

“You sure you’re okay?”

The worried expression didn’t sit right on Karl’s face. His eyebrows rarely furrowed so deeply, and he’d all but dropped his use of Stan’s nickname.

Stan tried to straighten, but the sharp pain in his chest pulled his shoulders forward. He winced. “I’ll be all right.”

“Did they hit something important?”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Well, there are a lot of important things in this general vicinity.” He knocked on his chest plate. “But I’m breathing, and my heart hasn’t stopped.”

“Well, that’s a good sign.”

“Quite.”

Karl scratched behind his neck guard. “I think—I think I did this.” He cleared his throat. “Or Shiren. But I think it was me.”

Stan shook his head to clear the buzzing sound, but it remained, humming in his ears. His stomach lurched with the sick roil of nausea.

“What do you mean?” Stan forced the urge to vomit away and took Karl’s shoulder, leaning on him.

Karl pulled Stan’s arm across his shoulders and helped him limp out of the rock pile.

“I saw that soldier run you through.” Karl’s tone sounded darker than the shadows around him.

Stan peered up at him, but Karl focused his gaze on the hidden end of the tunnel.

“Aye, I think everyone did.” Stan bit his lower lip.

“I—panicked.”

Stan smiled with a soft laugh. “Oh, mate, I didn’t know you cared.”

Karl paused and finally looked down at him. “You’re my best friend, Stan.”

Stan met his serious stare with another smile, curling his fingers around Karl’s shoulder plate. “Aye. And you’re mine.” Stan shut his eyes as a wave of buzzing rippled through his body.

“What is it?” Karl shifted to lower him onto a chunk of cement. Karl knelt and peered up into his face. “Are you in pain?”

“Karl, don’t you feel it?” Stan hissed, Kagami shuddering around him like the spin cycle on a washing machine.

“Feel what?”

“Soldiers.” Stan pressed his hand against his aching chest. “There are soldiers down here.”

“Where?” Karl stood and turned in a circle.

“I don’t know.”

Karl glanced down at him. “You’re better at sensing things than I am. I haven’t figured out how to do that yet.”

Stan shook his head.

Karl set his hand on Stan’s shoulder again. “You sure you’re actually sensing them? And Kagami isn’t just freaking out because you’ve got a hole in your chest?”

Stan sighed. “That could be, I suppose. But I don’t know.” The buzzing hadn’t faded. “I only ever feel this when a soldier’s close.”

“How strong is it?”

“The feeling?”

“Yeah.”

“Strong.” Stan shivered. “More strong than I’ve felt before.”

Karl scowled. “So it might be a super soldier?”

“Maybe,” Stan whispered. “Or it might be a lot of them.” He drew a slow breath and steadied himself. “We have to get back to the surface. We need to find the others. Jinsoku wasn’t sightseeing. If he’s here, it means Thallia’s up to something.”

“Right.” Karl pounded his fists on his knees and stood. “I can bust out of here. No sweat.”

“Karl, wait.” Stan wiped the back of his hand across his nose and frowned as his fingers came away bloody. “If you go breaking through walls, you might cause a collapse.”

Karl placed his hands, open palmed, against the tunnel wall. “Again.”

Stan narrowed his eyes, and Karl glanced back at him.

“I might cause a collapse again.” Karl rolled his eyes.

Limping to Karl’s side, Stan set a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“You reacted like anyone would have.”

“Yeah, but anyone doesn’t have an armor that makes earthquakes.” Karl wrinkled his nose, clenching his fingers against the wall. “I should have been more careful.”

Stan started to speak, but the tunnel whirled in his vision. He tilted backward.

“Stan!”

Karl caught him beneath his arms before he hit the floor, fresh waves of vibrations throwing Kagami into a new round of spasms.

“How many of them are there?” Stan hissed, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’ve never felt this many.”

Karl lowered him to the ground and locked him against his chest. “Easy, Stan.”

“You don’t feel it?”

“No.”

Maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s not soldiers. Maybe Kagami is damaged somehow.

They sat in the dark until the worst of the spasms faded. Stan’s breath came in short, shallow gasps, each one sending pain shooting across his chest.

“If we’re down here, what are the odds Lurch is too?”

Stan shut his eyes. “I don’t know.”

Karl shuddered. “What if I killed someone?”

Slowly, Stan sat forward, clutching his chest but turning to stare at his best friend. “Don’t think about that.”

“I can’t help it.” Karl’s gaze was glued to the toes of his armored boots. “We don’t even know how much of the street I destroyed. I could have killed dozens of people. Hundreds.” His voice shook.

He jerked his gaze up to Stan’s face, eyes wide with fear. “Stan, I’m supposed to protect people.”

Sighing, Stan gripped his arm. “You do, Karl. Anyway, we can’t think about it right now. We’ve got to find a way to get back to the surface. Let’s go further down the tunnel and see if we can find a wall that looks more stable. Or maybe a stairwell.”

Karl dropped his gaze and nodded.

He stood up and pulled Stan to his feet.

“Can you walk?” Karl asked.

“I’ll be fine.” Stan started forward, though his feet felt forged from lead.

Karl followed him in silence.

He didn’t speak at all.