⌐╦ᡁ᠊╾━
Rain soaks my jacket, shooting down like bullets from the sky. The buildings twist around me like a maze, dark shapes looming in the night. Faint city lights shimmer in the puddles like ghosts as the chase tightens behind me.
In the rain, I almost saw her again- small, powerless, innocent eyes staring at me and refusing to leave. My hand clutched the gun, pointed towards her father's temple. One shot. One shot was all it took. But it would've cost an innocent life if I were to finish the job and that I couldn't do.
That single moment turned me from a hunter to being hunted, on the run from The Syndicate.
I shove down my thoughts and the guilt. There's no room for regret- only survival.
Thunder roars overhead, I whirl- only to slam straight into something. Someone. An agent.
He staggers, breath sharp, looking at me with predatory eyes. His fingers twitch at his side, but my hands move faster.
I draw my knife, the familiar weapon grounding me. A gun would be too loud. My body moves on instinct, shaped by years of training. That's what I was made into. A weapon to kill. But even weapons break.
He lunges. I sidestep, driving the knife into his chest. His body slides down the wall silently. More are coming. They're too close. I spin into a close alleyway, spring onto a railing, clinging on with my life.
I watch as they chase after my shadow below, a few running into the alley but briefly missing me. My body freezes between fear and instincts.
So this is what it's like to be hunted.
Ten minutes pass before I'm certain it's clear. I drop into the alley, stepping up to the man I just killed. Another- gone. He was like me, working our jobs, even if it meant our lives were on the line every day.
I pull the knife from his chest. If I want to survive, I need all the weapons to do so.
A slip out of the alley, cautious of my surroundings. The rain hammers my hood like a drum. Then I notice her.
She's standing under the eaves of a closed boutique, dry beneath the small roof while rain hammers the pavement around her. She glances up at the street, alert and watchful, before settling back into her book.
There's something about the way she carries herself that makes me pause. Something about her is off. I don't understand it, but I can't look away.
I force myself forward, pushing past the strange pull I feel, my boots splashing in the puddles.
Then I hear them. Fast footsteps- gaining on me with every movement. They've found me.
I freeze. My chest tightens. My eyes flick back to her- she's still there, sheltered but unaware, and now we're both exposed.
The Syndicate would kill her for witnessing this. Shadows press in. Their eyes lock on us.
They're here.
For the first time, I don't think. I move. My hand clamps over her wrist before she even realises. Her book drops into a puddle. She gasps, but I drag her from the eaves, into the storm.
We run. The rain swallowed our footsteps, the chase increasing relentlessly.
I pull her down a side street, my grip tightened on her wrist. A corner. Another alley.
We take a sharp turn to a corner. I press her back against the wall, ready to clamp my hand over her mouth before she screams. Doe eyes lock onto mine, wide and unblinking, her breath shuddering against my chest. She's trembling but silent. Smarter than I thought.
They sweep past, too focused ahead to notice us consumed in the darkness. Their shouts fade into the distance. For now.
I finally pull back, loosening my grip on her.
"Congratulations, you just got marked," I mutter darkly. "Walk away, and you won't last an hour."
And for the first time, I drag someone into my war.