Leo stood motionless for a split second, paralyzed by the Courier's desperate rush into the darkness. When she had suggested the diversion, his mind had instantly pictured her betraying him, using him as a shield. Yet, she had chosen the most dangerous role for herself, sacrificing her relative safety to create a window of opportunity for him.
The sound of the Vultures' leader laughing—a choked, cynical sound—jolted Leo back into the moment.
"Get the little thief! And check the shadows, I smelled another rat!" the Vulture leader barked.
The command was all Leo needed. He didn't wait for his morale to catch up; he acted on pure, cold necessity.
He burst from his hiding spot by the wall, the reinforced Crowbar held low and tight. The two Vulture gunmen were still standing in a staggered formation, their focus split between the fleeing Courier and the general area where they suspected Leo had been.
The trailing Vulture—the one tasked with scanning the environment—whipped his weapon up instantly. It was a bulky, military-grade assault rifle, clearly capable of tearing Leo to pieces in less than a second.
"Freeze, civilian!" the Vulture screamed, the sound muffled and distorted by his tactical mask.
Leo's heart did more than just pound; it seized. The man was barely four meters away. Leo knew the range was suicidal. He could not outrun a bullet, and his crowbar was the weapon of a peasant against a tool of war. This was the checkmate. The moment where his desperation ended and the brutal reality of Pandemonium took its toll.
But the cold, raw certainty of fear was immediately met by the burning, white-hot, singular focus of his will to survive. He pictured Eda's pale face, the life-support tubing, the impossible $2.1 million. That image was stronger than any bullet. He was not dying on this dirty floor.
The Vulture's finger tightened on the trigger.
In a move that defied his own low Agility rating, Leo threw his body sideways in a desperate, frantic leap. The Vulture's aim, already compromised by the surprise, followed the movement, but a critical, one-second delay had been introduced.
"NOW!" Leo roared, the word a battle cry of raw survival.
He didn't need to look. His body, now fused with the Blunt Weapon (Crowbar) (Basic) skill, knew exactly where the first Vulture was—the one distracted by the Courier's flight.
Leo's leap carried him past the line of fire. He drove his momentum into a furious sprint toward the first Vulture, whose rifle was still pointed toward the ruins. Leo didn't stop to aim at the head, which was protected by a helmet. He aimed for the Weak Point he instantly recognized: the side of the ribcage, where the cheap armor didn't fully protect the vital organs.
The Crowbar swung in a tight, devastating arc. SHUNK.
The blunt end slammed into the man's side, crushing bone and rupturing soft tissue.
[Blunt Strike: Lethal Attack. Inflicts 125 Damage (50 Blunt Weapon (Basic) x2.5 Multiplier). Target Neutralized.]
Leo didn't hesitate for confirmation. As the Vulture gasped, the man's rifle clattering uselessly, Leo used the momentum of the strike to pivot. He was already reaching for the falling body, his hands grasping the tactical vest and heaving.
The second Vulture, having missed his shot, was now struggling to cycle his rifle and reposition, his own partner—a dead weight—blocking his path.
Leo didn't give him the chance. Utilizing the staggering momentum and the brute force of panic, Leo used the dead Vulture as a shield and hurled himself at the remaining gunman.
BAM!
The impact was thunderous. The dead weight of the human shield slammed into the second Vulture, driving him backward and crushing him against the jagged remnants of a collapsed drainage pipe. Leo himself was flung to the side, but the collision had served its purpose.
He was up instantly, ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder. The second Vulture was pinned under the heavy body, his rifle wedged and useless. He struggled, attempting to pull a sidearm, but Leo was already on him.
Leo landed on the dead body, adding his own weight to the crushing pin. He drove his Utility Knife—the small, sharp thing he'd offered the Courier and then retrieved—with savage, focused intensity. He didn't aim for the chest; he aimed for the danger.
The blade plunged into the back of the Vulture's exposed right wrist, pinning his hand to the floor.
"AARGH!" The man screamed, a raw, bubbling sound of agony and shock. The sidearm slipped from his crippled fingers.
Leo didn't waste a glance on the weapon. His target was the kill. His other hand grabbed the Vulture's tactical collar, pulling the head back, exposing the neck. He drove the crowbar's thin, pointed end down with one final, definitive strike.
Crunch. Silence.
[Tackle: Inflicts 3 Damage to HP. Target Stunned for 1 second.] [Stabbing (Knife): Inflicts 15 Damage to HP. Target Crippled (Right Hand).] [Crowbar Strike: Lethal Attack. Inflicts 110 Damage. Target Neutralized.]
The entire engagement lasted less than six seconds.
Leo collapsed, slumping against the cold, damp wall. The adrenaline crashed out of him, replaced by a devastating, full-body exhaustion. Every muscle screamed, and his vision tunneled.
He checked his status, his hand shaking uncontrollably:
[Stamina: 18]
He had burned nearly 82% of his energy in that brief, violent flurry. He lay there, tasting the metallic air, forcing shallow breaths, and allowing the system to tick up his stamina, one painful point at a time. The smell of blood was no longer repulsive; it was a scent of victory and a grim promise of life. He was adapting. A horrible thought, but true.
After two minutes, the searing agony receded enough for him to move. Survival demanded he loot the bodies immediately.
He started with the pinned Vulture, freeing the rifle and the sidearm from the wreckage.
[Item: Needler Pistol (M3-A)] [Type: Sidearm] [Rarity: Uncommon (Damaged)] [Attack: High] [Magazine: 5 Rounds (Loaded)] [Notes: .45 Caliber. Extremely potent but lacks maintenance. Beware of thermal jamming.]
And the ammunition:
[Item: .45 Caliber Ammo] [Type: Ammunition] [Rarity: Common] [Count: 12 Rounds]
He holstered the Needler Pistol, feeling the cold weight of the weapon—his first firearm—against his hip. It was an instant, overwhelming boost to his sense of security. The bulky assault rifle was left: too heavy, too complex, and likely too loud for a solitary scavenger.
After a thorough search of both bodies—finding a few small power cells and two full packs of Stim-Sticks—he stood up, scanning the dark ruins.
"It's clear!" he called out into the shadows, his voice raspy.
Silence. The Courier did not immediately appear. She was smart enough to know that a sudden, successful double-kill by a "civilian" changed the power dynamic entirely. She wouldn't trust him to share, let alone to spare her.
Leo took the final step, removing his makeshift human shield (the dead Brute's body) and placing the heavy crowbar clearly on the ground. He raised his hands, displaying his empty palms.
"Look, I need to get underground, and you know the routes better than I do," Leo called out, his voice calmer now. "You pulled the Vultures away. That makes you my ally. I will share the entire loot from these two, and I want information. We survived twice. Let's make it three times. The fighting has to stop."
He meant it. He couldn't afford to fight every surviving player.
After a tense pause, a voice hissed from a dark alcove about ten yards away. "You mean that? You'll share a gun?"
"One gun is yours, the other is mine, and the bullets are split," Leo confirmed instantly. "And I need guidance. This area is too hot."
The Courier stepped out, still holding her knife, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. She was a picture of dirt and caution.
"Okay," she said, her voice laced with grudging acceptance. "But first."
She didn't approach Leo. Instead, she sprinted past him toward the original body—the one the Vultures had shot in the head. She dropped her scavenge pack and began tearing at the corpse's clothes. She had a purpose that superseded their immediate survival, something she was willing to risk everything for.
Leo watched her, realizing this was more than just a loot grab. That confrontation had been personal.
He kept watch, his hand hovering near the Needler Pistol on his hip. He trusted the deal, but he didn't trust the world. When she returned, she had a different, thicker pack slung over her shoulder.
"The gunshots will bring more Vultures," she said, cutting straight to the chase, her face utterly grim. "I know a hideout. A deep tunnel entrance that's been dormant for months. Follow me, and don't make a sound."
She turned and melted back into the shadows, running with a quick, zig-zagging pace that spoke of long practice in avoiding detection. Leo didn't hesitate. He secured his gear, grabbed his crowbar, and followed.
They ran for what felt like an eternity, weaving through the jagged ruins, their footsteps barely whispers on the debris. Leo's raw stamina was tested to its limit, the cold bite of the 18% stamina warning a constant reminder of his fragility.
Finally, she stopped behind a massive, partially intact concrete pillar, nearly two dozen blocks away from the kill zone. She pressed herself against the cold concrete and waited. Leo came up beside her, gasping for air, but listening intently.
The sounds of distant, hurried footsteps and the crackle of a radio signal were now clearly behind them, moving away. They had shaken the pursuit.
"We're clear," the Courier whispered, pointing to a nearly invisible metal grate set low into the foundations of the pillar. "This is the only way in that hasn't been mapped by the gangs. We go down now."
Leo looked at the small, black hole—the entrance to the darkness. He felt a surge of relief mixed with terror. He had survived the first day, and he had a partner. For now.