Damnatio Memoriae Part 3

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The area around us was almost purely a maze of large pipes crawling on the walls. There were some piles of rubble on the ground, but overall it was clear of clutter. Stiles, who was wearing his flannel now, moved his flashlight over the dim place as Scott bent to examine a pile of nothing.

There was a large piece of metal that had four long slashes through it on the floor. "Guys, check this out," I said, gesturing to the metal. Stiles shined the light over it, and I noticed that there was blood on it. The light moved back a little, and that's when I noticed there was actually blood everywhere. It looked dried and soaked into the concrete flooring but still relatively fresh.

"You see that?" Stiles asked.

"I see blood," Scott said.

"Look where it leads to." I pointed to the wall. There was a circular door near the bottom with the words 'Confined Space. Permit Required' printed on it. That wasn't disconcerting at all. But the blood was coming from there. It was coming from beneath the metal lockers with the gashes on it.

Scott squatted down, getting his fingers underneath so he could lift it. He grunted as he tried, his face pinching and turning red with exertion. If he wasn't hurt, he'd have no problem lifting it. It slipped from his hands, so he took a minute to catch his breath.

I didn't wait for him to try again as I walked over to the other side. When I put my hands underneath to help, he gave me a thankful look. With a nod, we pushed the locker into standing position like it weighed nothing.

Stiles walked around it, patting Scott on the shoulder (who was panting heavily), while I looked at the square grate in the ground where the blood drained into. There was a large hole on the grating, the insides spiking upwards as if something had shot up through it like a cannon. There was a ladder leading downwards, and it looked very unappealing.

"Alright, well. See you down there," I said, turning and lowering myself into the hole carefully.

"Wait, we're not going down there," Stiles blurted. I stopped, looking up at him.

"Why not?" Scott asked.

"Yeah, I think we kind of have to." Stiles scoffed at us both like we were crazy for going.

He rolled his eyes and gave in. "At least take this if you're going down first." He held his flashlight to me.

"Don't need it," I said. I flashed him my cat eyes with a confidence and fearlessness I hadn't felt in a while and began climbing down the ladder. Stiles followed, then Scott. When my feet touched the ground, I looked around the darkness with my eyes, easily seeing through the dark. There seemed to be nothing but standing water, which smelled like ass and sulfur.

There was a tiny hall that t-zoned another long corridor, except that one had various sizes of pipes running along the walls on either side and the ceiling. It looked familiar, but I couldn't place my finger on it. I waited for Stiles and Scott before walking into the tunnel. Stiles shined his light down both ends. When nothing jumped out at us, he switched his flashlight to a black light and shined it on the wet floor.

Like always with supernatural blood, it left behind a kind of smoke that lasted forever and which could only be seen under black light. The three of us shared a look, knowing that we were now headed in the right direction. Stiles followed it with his light, and we followed him.

He stopped and faced the wall. The smoke was wafting off a word written in supernatural blood.

"Damnatio Memoriae," I read aloud. "I think it's Latin."

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