Прости. Прощай. Привет

00:55

-“There’s like a thousand stairs—there’s no way we’re making it in an hour.”

-“I’m not dying ‘cause you’re lazy.”

-“If I was lazy, we wouldn’t even be in this mess in the first place.”

-“Your point?”

-“Let’s take the elevator,” he said, pointing behind him.

-“After what just happened, you want to use the elevator?”

-“Yes…” he started to say, but a loud noise interrupted as the mechanical doors creaked open behind them and a voice echoed:

-“I told you, that’s not how the bloody lift works… Why would down be up?” side Bobby.

-“BECAUSE WE’RE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE PLANET, SMARTASS.”Fred retaliated .

-“Yeah, but we want to go up.”

-“Yeah, but up isn’t up—it’s down.”

Captain Richard held his hand over his eyes, clenching his forehead.
-“IT’S NUMBERED, YOU TWATS.”

They bickered on until a slight cough interrupted them. Their eyes raised up, spotting the two ,kid in hand staring at them. Silence dropped like a brick—a wave of discomfort and unease filled the room.

-“Boss, do we shoot them?

-“With what exactly? The only thing we have is my arm…” they whispered to each other.

From inside the elevator, Bobby waved enthusiastically. “THERE’S ROOM—COME, COME!”

Overwhelmed with confusion, they stared back—Max pondering what to do.

-“We kill ‘em, right?”

-“Totally,” Maeve added, grabbing her revolver.

Quickly firing off a shot, the bullet ricocheted off the steel walls of the elevator.

-"I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS!" Bobby shouted, heartbreak cracking in his voice.

"The only thing that would make this better is if you were speaking Russian," Max yelled, shotgun raised.

Just then, the stairwell door creaked open.

Twelve wrinkled faces peered from behind it, blinking at the chaos.

A familiar voice rang out:
-«Я же говорил, что вниз — это не вверх. Каковы шансы, что они были над нами?»"
-("I told you down isn’t up. What are the chances they were above us?")

-"IT'S YOU!" Max yelled, pointing his gun toward them.

-"That's definitely a fort guy, but alright," Maeve said, still aiming her gun at the elevator.

For a heartbeat, no one moved. Weapons stayed up. Eyes darted between the elevator and stairwell.

Tension thick enough to slice. Confusion. Recognition. Unease.
A standoff was brewing—and nobody looked ready to blink first.

-Captain Richard yelled out, "A TRUCE! WE PARLEY!"

-"ARE YOU INSANE?! YOU'RE ALL UNARMED!"Maeve yelled back

-"YEAH," Max muttered, finger closing in on the trigger.

A heavy, metallic thud echoed from the plaza. Everyone froze.

From the far side, a towering figure emerged. A heavily-armored marine slowly stepped into view., He didn’t walk so much as drag himself forward, hulking arms swinging low, his hairy knuckles scraping the floor, resembling a drugged-up gorilla more than a man. His fingers gripped a gatling gun as big as a man’s torso, grinding metal on concrete as it rolled.Mindlessly, it approached them.

-"THE LIFT!" Max shouted urgently.

-"OF COURSE—THE FUCKING LIFT!" Maeve snapped, booking it toward the elevator.

The Russians peeked out from behind a half-shut door and quickly slammed it shut again.

The half-man, half-beast marine hefted his weapon and opened fire in all directions.

Bobby and Fred quickly tried to close the door, pushing every button imaginable,

Maeve and Max ran, hearts pounding, as they watched the door close, closer and closer.

Max quickly hurled the kid through the door in hopes of wedging it.

Twinkle Toes slid across the floor, through the door, in a narrow second.

Fred and Bobby struggled to keep the elevator doors open. Max tossed the child through the narrowing gap, and the two of them squeezed in just in time.

Gunfire echoed behind them as they looked at each other—faces tight with unease.

The marine raised the gatling and opened fire—bullets chewing through wall and air alike.

Fred and Bobby struggled to pry open the elevator doors. Max grabbed the kid and hurled him through the gap just as sparks showered the entrance.

The door slammed shut, trapping them with the gun-wielding beast,they quickly ducked behind the nearest furniture, the air filled with the sharp crack of bullets tearing through the room.

-"WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THROWING HIM IN WITH THEM?"

-"I THOUGHT HE'D KEEP IT OPEN ,YOU KNOW... HEAD FIRST... KIND OF A BAD IDEA."

-"YA THINK?"

-"We're going to get eaten by a gorilla."

-"Oh, it can't be that bad," she peeked over the cover.

The beast roared, a guttural sound that rattled the walls, he bashed his head into the structure, firing wildly in every direction—he was completely unhinged.

-"It's way worse than that," she said huddling down, back pressed against the half-core she was hiding behind.

-"You go. I'll distract him." He peeked for a moment, gunfire and a slam echoed by the beast. "NAH, FUCK THAT IDEA."

-"MY HERO."

their hopes and dreams slowly died, the man approached, each step louder and heavier than the last.

When the beast came within a foot a sunde of cigaret lighter caught its eye

a Russian voice muttered something barely audible.

They peeked for a moment, and one of the Russians, armed with two sharpened sticks, stared down the beast as if it was nothing. A tie wrapped like a headband, he twirled the sticks in his fingers and spoke in Russian fearlessly, courageously, with confidence radiating from him.

Looking more like a failed rock star than anything else he light his cigarette

The beast turned, heavy breaths hissing through its mask vents its eyes locked with the old man.

The creature lumbered forward, massive and confused, its curiosity just barely masking its rage. With every step, the floor trembled.

Max and Maeve held their breath behind the shattered furniture, eyes barely peeking over the edge.

The old man didn’t flinch. He exhaled a long stream of smoke, letting it curl between them.

The beast roared—raw and deafening—shaking the walls.

The old man simply muttered

- “Животное.”

With a flick of his wrist, he spat his cigarette into the beast’s snarling face—then slammed both sticks into the sides of its head.

The creature reeled back, stunned, caught completely off guard.

As the beast raised its gun, the old man moved first—jamming one of his sharpened sticks straight into the barrel, locking it. In the same breath, he brought the second stick down in a sharp arc, cracking it across the creature’s visor with a splintering crack.

The monster snarled, ripping the ruined gun from its hands and hurling it aside. With nothing but fury now, it lunged with its bare hands, swinging wild and hard.

But the old man danced like smoke in a storm—dipping, weaving, just out of reach. Each swing came closer. Each breath tighter. But still, he moved like water. Controlled chaos.

As the beast cornered him for a moment, a shot fired— the bullet bounced off the creature like it was nothing.

Maeve shot again. And again. And again. With no effect.

-"I thought we were living," Max said.

-"And I thought you weren’t a bitch," Maeve scoffed.

-"Funny," he said, annoyed, as he grabbed his gun and started blasting away—

Only annoying the beast more.

It roared, swinging wildly, breaking furniture on all sides, crashing against the wall—

Until finally, it tore its helmet off, revealing something barely human.

Its bloodshot eyes burned with rage—no thought behind them but pure destruction.

The room was thick with fear as Maeve steadied her gun, the Russian’s frantic muttering barely audible through the chaos.
-“No, no, no!” he half-sobbed, half-growled, as the beast lumbered forward.

The man froze for a moment, locking eyes with Mave.
He tapped his nose once, then pointed toward the vents.

Maeve didn’t hesitate. She holstered her gun, and lowered Max’s shotgun

-“What are you doing?” Max asked, a hint of panic creeping into his voice.

-“No time! And no guns!,” she snapped, yanking the multi-tool from his waist.

the man roared at the beast, grabbing its attention, Maeve quickly rushed toward him. She swung with full strength at the beast's knee, knocking it to the floor. Max rushed behind her as she threw her multi-tool to him. He jumped, cracking the beast over its head, The three played tag as they tossed the tool between them each taking turns to strike.

The air grew thicker with a rancid stench, seeping into their noses, but they kept moving, weaving between the beast’s frenzied swings, their game of cat and mouse relentless.

-"What exactly are we doing?" Max asked, with a breath between each word.

-"Buying time."

-"For who, exactly?"

-"My guess, the other eleven Russians."

As the multi-tool went between them, the geezer grabbed it, cleaving the beast in the face, breaking its teeth.
The beast stood for a second before swinging at the man, landing a hard hit cracking his ribs like nothing sending him flying crashing against a wall.

"SHIT," said Mave, rusing for the tool the beast’s attention shifted back to her.

The beast closed in, its broken, bloodied jaw snapping at her. She moved toward the wall, completely coronored.

Seeing this Max lunged himself, grabbing the beast by its ears. He yanked with all his strength, pulling himself onto its back, riding it like a raging bull. The creature roared, twisting violently, trying to shake him off, but Max held on, barely keeping his grip as the beast threw itself into a frenzy.

Finally, with one brutal shake, the beast tossed Max off, sending him flying straight at Mave. They collided hard, crashing to the ground in a tangled heap.

-“Well, that was stupid,” Maeve groaned, pushing herself up.

-“Oh really?” Max grunted, wincing. “I thought you’d say it was brave.”

The stench of rotting eggs filled the room, and the beast, now fully enraged, turned toward them with eyes blazing.

As the staircase slammed open, eleven Russian heads popped out. The broken, bloody Man yelled and swore across the room, grabbing the beast’s attention once more.

While the rest yanked the two out theroom. Max yelled, "Guys, your buddy's in there!" Their faces blank as they slammed the door shut behind them rushing up the stairs, pushing and running to the floors above.

The beast, enraged, clawed and hammered at the door, desperate to get through.

The man braced himself against the wall, bloodied and bruised, he placed a half-broken cigarette between his lips.

He scoffed, spat blood to the side, then muttered in broken English, voice calm and cutting through the chaos:

“As they say… want a drag?”

A familiar sound echoed through the room as his lighter clicked.

A spark ignited, setting the air ablaze.

BOOM An explosion echoed up the stairwell, followed by a wave of heat and smoke. The tower shook.

The others climbed the smoke rising behind them.