20180129

Day 1,239

They called it the Undercity - a place for things to be forgotten, a place for the missing to be found and a place you don't willingly seek out in case you find something you weren't looking for but had still lost. The official bio states that the native population, the long term civilians, number less than one thousand yet those who've made it down and back again say the city spans the entire length of Russia coast-to-coast.

Nobody can reach a proper consensus still, their reports are somehow never found. That's just the way of the Undercity, keeps you in the dark just as much as it keeps the locals themselves deep down beneath the rest of the world.

They never complain, the locals, never really talk to outsiders much beyond casual pleasantries. it's like they were taught exactly what to say to someone in order to creep them out while remaining plausibly decent enough that they can't find a reason for their fear. At least, not in a way they can verbalise.

Their entire civilisation's survival hinges on their hoard of government secrets, the abominations that their laboratories cooked up and disposed of without so much as a second thought, the ones that escaped and found a home within the Undercity and the ones that are fighting to make their way back to the surface with rage in their eyes and blood under their nails.

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