May 25
London’s catacombs, the long-buried carcass of a gaslit age. Basil had never been beneath those crumbling ceilings before, but nearly everything about the situation felt uncomfortably familiar. It was not the first time that his lungs had filled air that was thick and damp with decay, nor was it his first venture into complete and total darkness. Even the sound of his own heartbeat thrumming in his ears was something that he knew quite well. The only thing that felt new to Major Ashford was the presence of someone else, footsteps to match his own and a warmth at his back. Leaving the grip of his pistol, Basil’s left hand extended outward. “Wait.” He commanded. “There’s something up ahead.”
