The distant gunshot ripped through the grimy air of the Machine City like a metal shard. It echoed off the towering structures of welded scrap and repurposed machinery, a brutal punctuation mark in the city's endless mechanical symphony. Izari barely registered the sound before the kinetic force slammed into him, a hammer blow fueled by dark intent. The third-floor window behind him detonated in a shower of glittering, jagged fragments, the air itself seeming to fracture as he was propelled through the opening. His body, a reluctant projectile, slammed against the opposite building with a sickening thud that squeezed the breath from his lungs. He plummeted into the narrow, trash-strewn passage below, landing in a crumpled heap. Pain exploded across his chest, stealing his breath, and his vision swam in a haze of grays and blacks.
For a tormenting moment, all he could hear was the high-pitched ringing that drowned out the city's mechanical groan. He forced himself up, his breath a ragged, painful rasp "Shit!". His fingers probed at the impact point on his chest. A bullet had punched through his worn, dark grey jacket and the splash of color beneath, his old red shirt, leaving a jagged hole. But there was no entry wound, only a bruise across his ribs that slightly throbbed.
Back in the room, framed by the jagged teeth of the broken window, stood a terrifying figure, the young woman. She was clad in a long, dark brown poncho adorned with silver metallic stripes that glinted under the flickering lights. A grotesque, ornamented, dark grey beaked mask concealed the top half of her smiling face, turning her into a living, breathing shadow. In her hands, she held the small, heavily modified shotgun, its barrel still exhaling a plume of acrid smoke. She lowered the weapon, her voice a chillingly cold and vile whisper in the aftermath of the violence.
"He moved."
Rona stood frozen, his eyes wide with terror as he stared at the gaping hole where the window used to be. His mind raced, desperately calculating his odds, but the brutal truth was unavoidable – there were no odds. He was trapped. Slowly, agonizingly, he turned his gaze back toward the intruders, the terror blossoming in his features like a poisonous flower.
The seer stepped forward, his presence radiating an unsettling authority. He was a tall, imposing figure, the lines etched into his face hinting at a hard life lived in the South District. His eyes, dark and piercing, held a fanatic gleam. "Give us the girl, rebel," he said, his voice like rusted steel grinding against itself.
Rona gripped his pistol even tightly, but his hands trembled, betraying him. "Y-you monsters," he stammered, the words catching in his throat.
The seer tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable, almost pitying. "You choose ignorance over enlightenment? She is blessed! Chosen! And her father… our Prophet… he understands the magnitude of this offering! He is willing to sacrifice the very thing he holds dearest for our salvation." He extended a gloved hand toward the unconscious girl, his movements precise and deliberate. " This city is falling apart. Don't stand in the way of progress. We need to evolve if we are to survive and coexist. Even you are aware of that." His tone darkened, venom creeping into his words. "And if you don't wish to end up like your cocky friend..." he gestured toward the shattered window with disdain – "I suggest you cooperate."
Rona swallowed hard, the lump in his throat feeling like a lead weight. His fingers tightened on his pistol, his knuckles bone-white. He wanted to fight, to unleash the rage and fear that consumed him, but the sheer impossibility of it held him captive. Slowly, reluctantly, he lowered the weapon. Tears welled in his eyes, blurring his vision.
The seer's lips curved into a chilling smile. "A wise decision."
One of the male armored mercenaries, a hulking brute of a man, moved forward to seize the girl.
Bang!
Rona acted on instinct, an animalistic surge of defiance overriding his fear. The bullet struck the mercenary in the chest, but the man barely flinched. He stumbled back a single step, a disbelieving chuckle rumbling in his chest as he looked down at the smoking hole in his crude, haphazard armor. Then, he looked back at Rona, a cruel smile spreading across his face.
"Nice try, pops," he said, his voice thick with sarcasm. "You're gonna have to do better than that."
Then everything exploded into a chaotic ballet of violence.
The two male armored mercenaries moved with unnatural speed, their heavy boots thudding against the floor. Rona fired wildly, trying to keep them at bay, but they were too fast, too relentless. One of them lunged, a rusty dagger flashing in the dim light. Rona dodged, barely managing to bring up his worn knife. The blade slashed across an exposed shoulder, spilling thick, dark blood. The man staggered but didn't fall, seemingly relieved that the wound wasn't lethal. He chuckled, "You're getting lucky!"
The tall, burly mercenary woman struck him on the side without hesitation. She grabbed Rona and slammed him against the wall, the force stealing his breath and rattling his bones. His pistol clattered to the floor. He gasped, pain flaring through his body, but desperation drove him to act, his hand shot into his coat, withdrawing another concealed knife. He slashed at her neck, drawing another deep wound.
She staggered back, one hand clamping down on the gushing injury. Her breathing became ragged, and her body stilled for a disturbing moment. Then, without warning, she lunged forward, her shotgun rising with terrifying speed. The muzzle flashed.
Izari's hand blocked the shot.
The bullet clattered to the floor, deformed and useless. Izari flexed his fingers, his face twisting in pain. "Shit… that hurts," he muttered, the words laced with a surprising amount of annoyance.
Rona gasped, his eyes wide with disbelief. "You…You just…"
"Not the time," Izari muttered, shaking off the numbness in his hand. A flicker of something akin to amusement danced in his eyes. Rona didn't waste the opportunity – he grabbed his discarded gun and fired at the two male mercenaries near the unconscious girl, forcing them back as one of them cursed, "Shit!" He turned towards the seer, venom dripping from his voice.
"You and your damned salvation can rot."
He fired twice.
The woman in the beaked mask intercepted both shots, her poncho absorbing the impact without a scratch. In one swift, almost impossibly fluid motion, she unsheathed a hook-shaped blade and lunged at Rona's throat.
Izari reacted instantly, a blur of motion that defied logic. He caught her wrist, using her momentum to slam her into the wall. She collapsed onto all fours, feigning pain, her movements unnaturally fluid. Izari wasn't fooled, but he was too slow, she lashed out with a deceptively quick kick, catching him on the shin. He stumbled, momentarily off-balance. In a flash, she spun and delivered a powerful scissor kick to his skull, slamming his head into the floor. She would then proceed to stomp his head right through the floor in one blow.
She turned her attention back to Rona. He had been pinned down by the two male armored mercenaries, their combined weight pressing the fight out of him. "Stop struggling, old man," one of them sneered, his voice laced with cruel amusement. "Just make it easy for us to slice your head off nice and easy." The other chuckled in agreement. This scared Rona, who shouted in protest. She sneered, stepping forward as his back was lowered to let her decapitate him. He spat at her in defiance. She scoffed, stepping forward.
Then, in an instant, two hands flashed into existence and snapped her neck with a sickening crack.
Her body slumped to the ground, convulsing violently.
The two male mercenaries hesitated, their grip on Rona loosening as they both called out, "Amara!" Concern etched on their rough faces. A mistake. Rona, seizing his opportunity, released himself from their grasps, flung two darts from a his pockets – the projectiles embedded themselves in their eyes, and they collapsed with choked gasps.
They turned to face the seer.
He stood unmoving, his back to them, gazing down at the unconscious girl with an unsettling intensity.
Rona raised a dart, aiming for the back of his head.
Izari placed a hand on his arm, stopping him. "No."
"Why not?" Rona asked, his voice desperate.
"I don't know," Izari admitted, "But something tells me he's… different. Bad news."
They walked past him, their movements cautious. The seer exhaled, a faint smile playing on his lips, eerily calm and laced with an unmistakable arrogance.
Izari froze. A cold, suffocating fear wrapped around him, a primal instinct screaming at him to flee. For a split second, it was as if the world itself had stopped, the sounds of the city fading into an oppressive silence. The air pressed against him, his body refusing to move, trapped in the grip of an unseen force. Then, just as suddenly, the moment passed, and the oppressive weight lifted. He forced himself to move, to leave, the memory of that terrifying stillness burning in his mind.
As they ran, Rona grabbed the girl and both ran past the seer.
The Seer's gaze followed their every move, his eyes like chips of ice.
Outside, Rona carried the girl, his steps faltering from exhaustion and pain, while Izari kept pace beside him, his expression grim. He sighed, his breath fogging in the cold night air.
Rona scanned the chaotic streets, his eyes darting from shadow to shadow. "It seems that more of them are coming. We need to find help."
The chase through the chaotic heart of the West District began.
They burst through the door, sprinting down a narrow hallway, the sounds of their pursuers growing closer with each passing second.
They slammed onto the neon-lit streets of the West District, a pulsating cacophony of noise and light. Enforcer drones and droids patrolled, their heavy boots echoing on the metal walkways, and crowds churned like restless waves, their faces lost in the anonymity of the urban swarm.
Izari pushed through the throng, knocking over vendors and pedestrians, his movements a blur of controlled chaos. Rona struggled to keep up, his steps heavy with exhaustion and pain as he struggled to carry the girl, blood staining his clothes. "Is this how it ends?" he thought.
One of their pursuers lunged, a rusty dagger flashing in the dim light. Izari dodged with an unnatural grace – but the blade passed right through him as if he weren't there.
A smirk flashed across his face, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. The attacker, caught off-balance, crashed into a metal stall, crushing it under his weight. The sound of twisted metal, shattered merchandise, and incoherent curses punctuated the air.
They spotted a maintenance tunnel, a dark maw of shadows offering a temporary respite. Izari dived in, pulling Rona and the girl with him.
A hand grabbed Rona's left arm, its grip like a vise. Rona, fueled by desperation, stabbed the attacker with a blade, forcing them back with a cry of pain.
The heavy door slammed shut, the echoing clang a desperate attempt to buy them time.
They collapsed into the damp, claustrophobic underground, gasping for breath, the taste of rust and decay filling their lungs.
Rona turned to Izari, his eyes pleading. "You don't understand… If we fail, it's not just our lives at stake."
Izari's eyes darkened, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. "I don't know what you're talking about! You still haven't told me what's going on. " He paused, taking a good, long look at the girl. "Okay, stop overreacting, let me just get this over with." He muttered to himself.
Rona, his voice laced with desperation, replied. "Well then, what are we waiting for!"
Above them, the echoing thud of boots grew closer. Their pursuers weren't far behind.