The service tunnel was a throat of darkness, swallowing the light from their headlamps and compressing the air around them. The metal walls, slick with condensation, seemed to press in from all sides, each footstep echoing like a drumbeat in the oppressive silence. The air was thick with the smell of ozone, rust, and something acrid and vaguely organic, like old meat left out to spoil.
Jin moved at the front leading them. The stun baton felt more natural in his hand with every step, its weight a familiar anchor in the suffocating darkness. His `Predator Instinct` was a constant, low-level hum at the edge of his consciousness, a sixth sense that painted the darkness ahead in shades of threat and possibility. His heightened `PER` (Perception) picked up subtle details: the faint vibration of a failing power conduit deep within the wall, the minuscule shift in air pressure that signaled an upcoming junction. It was a comprehensive awareness of his surroundings.
