Edison Labyrinth

The air in the Labyrinth was thick and heavy, with a pungent tang of ozone from sparking contacts somewhere in the darkness and a sweetish, unpleasant odor that hinted at the old fear ingrained in the stones. Every breath burned the lungs with a chemical bitterness. The walls, covered in a pulsating bioluminescent film, didn't simply breathe—they convulsively rose and fell, as if some monstrous organism were struggling in its death throes. The wet, whistling breath of the stone mingled with the ragged sighs of the crew, and their shadows, misshapen and elongated, cast by the flickering torchlight, wriggled behind them like impatient ghosts. They had already left two behind. Loki's ghost loomed in every dark doorway, and the shadow of the Grandfather, so imperturbable, chilled the soul. The last crunch was still ringing in my ears.
Edison walked ahead, clutching the receiver so tightly his knuckles turned white. The device beeped occasionally, short and alarming, as if warning them, guiding them deeper. Hereid followed behind him. His usually clear gaze was clouded with panic; he kept turning around, listening to the echoing, oppressive silence that was louder than any scream.
"This is a pointless endeavor," Klype hissed through his teeth, wiping the sticky dirt from his face. "We'll all die here. We'll just become another mark on this damned place. "
Bishka, the youngest of them, trailed silently behind. His silence was more eloquent than any words—his dull gaze revealed an animal weariness and an all-consuming fear that ate deeper than the labyrinthine mud. He still couldn't recover from the death of Ded, the closest person to him in this hell.
And only Natasha, with her desperate courage, looked not at her feet, but forward, through the thickening darkness, as if trying to discern in it the end of this nightmare.
The laboratory, whose name was nowhere to be found, turned out to be not a treasure trove, but a crypt. The sterile white light, long dead, gave way to an emergency red glow, painting the rows of empty cells the color of old rust, and then they found you. Object Forest-9