The maintenance tunnel was a living nightmare in rusted metal. A claustrophobic maze of pipes, slick with condensation and choked with the smell of decay, pressed in on Izari from all sides. Leaking steam hissed like angry snakes, obscuring the view one moment, scalding the next. The flickering emergency lights cast strobing, grotesque shadows that danced with the rhythm of his pounding heart. His jacket, already threadbare, had a hole ripped open from the earlier struggle, the raw edges of the gunshot wound now exposed, a darkening bruise blooming across his chest as the darkened veins had started to coalesce around it. This made him uncomfortable, and he shot an uneasy glance at Rona and Cassia. His body thrummed with the fading adrenaline of the fight, but the cold ache of exhaustion was worming its way into his bones.
Rona, however, was teetering on the precipice of collapse. His face, usually ruddy with fire, was now ashen, slick with a sheen of panicked sweat. His breathing came in ragged gasps, each one a visible struggle. His hands trembled violently as he hovered over Cassia, his fingers brushing her pale, feverish skin. He looked like a man drowning, grabbing at straws in a storm. "She's burning up," he muttered, his voice hoarse, choked with fear. There's no way he would be able to fight in this state. "We need to find somewhere safe before they—"
A distant, metallic clang echoed through the tunnels, a death knell resonating in the oppressive silence.
Izari's body went rigid, his senses on high alert. Every nerve end was screaming at him to run. Rona's breath hitched, and he fell silent, his eyes wide with dread.
Above them, the sound of heavy boots stomped against the metal grates of the upper levels. They were methodical, organized, moving in formation, their steps a relentless drumbeat of doom. Bronze skulls, Izari thought, a cold dread settling in his stomach. These weren't just common mercenaries. This was something else. Something… worse. His past encounters with them in the past were few, but thanks to them, he had known what he needed to know about them. They were relentless and brutish.
Cassia let out a weak, barely audible whimper, a fragile sound that pierced the oppressive silence. Izari's eyes flicked to her face, pale and drawn. The wounds across her arms and legs looked more like inscriptions than injuries—deep lacerations carved with an intent beyond mere torture, now covered by his hastily applied bandages. They still seemed to pulse faintly under the dim tunnel lights, an unnatural, unsettling purple glow that made his skin crawl. He needed to focus, but he couldn't shake the feeling that everything was connected, that this girl was more than just a victim.
"We need to keep moving," Izari said, his voice a low growl, pushing off the wall. He straightened up, a flicker of resolve hardening his gaze. He began to question his involvement with them, but he needed the money.
Rona hesitated, his eyes darting between Izari and Cassia, a silent battle waging within him. The fear for the girl's life warred with a desperate plea for his own. "Hey, thanks for the help earlier," he whispered, his voice thick with a fragile gratitude. A flicker of hope appeared in his face. "That being said, how did you survive being shot and that fall? A normal human would die instantly. Wait, are you—?" He squinted, trying to discern something in Izari's guarded expression.
Izari didn't respond, his face an unreadable mask. He couldn't afford to reveal anything, not now. Not ever. His past was a closed book, at least to this stranger he had just met an hour ago.
They moved deeper into the underground network, navigating through twisting corridors and collapsing passageways. The tunnels branched off in all directions—some leading to flooded chambers, the stagnant water reflecting the flickering lights in grotesque patterns, others filled with old, corroded machinery, their gears frozen in time, monuments to a forgotten purpose. At times, they had to wade through knee-deep sewage, the stench clawing at their senses, a miasma of filth and despair.
But no matter how far they went, the pursuers remained close, a lurking shadow at their heels. The heavy boots above them were soon replaced with sounds much closer, the echo of soft, deliberate steps in the tunnels behind them. They were patient. They were hunting.
Izari risked a glance over his shoulder. In the distance, just beyond the flickering emergency lights, he saw them. Tall, armored figures moving with unnatural, almost inhuman, grace. Their glistening, bulging muscles strained against their armor, catching the dim light in a disturbing display of power. They did not rush, they did not panic. They knew their prey was trapped, like rodents scurrying in a decaying cage.
Rona clenched his fists, his knuckles bone-white. He knew what was coming, the depths of depravity these hunters were capable of. He had seen it before, the way they delighted in tearing apart the innocent.
"They're closing in," he said, his voice barely a whisper, laced with a resignation that chilled Izari to the core.
Rona cursed under his breath, a string of muttered oaths lost in the echoing tunnels. He was holding the Cassia close, trying to shield her, but his hands were shaking worse than before.
"We can't outrun them forever," Izari hissed, his eyes narrowed. "We need to fight."
Rona exhaled sharply, a puff of despair.
"That's what they want." He looked at Izari, his eyes pleading. "It's a trap."
A distant CLANG! Closer this time. Then another. The armored figures were picking up their pace, their movements a symphony of impending doom. They could hear their excited whispers, distorted voices crackling from their comms, like a chorus of radio static and broken transmissions, filled with promises of pain.
And then-
Silence.
A silence so profound it drowned out even their breathing, a suffocating blanket that pressed down on them.
The tunnel lights flickered, spitting sparks like dying embers. The air felt heavier, thick with an unseen presence. A cold pressure built in Izari's skull, like something unseen was pressing against his mind, probing, searching.
And then-
A voice, dripping with something wrong, something ancient and malevolent, echoed through the tunnels.
"You are making a mistake, rebel. A grave mistake. You cannot stay hidden for long." The voice was a violation, a psychic intrusion that scraped against his very soul.
The moment it spoke, Rona stumbled, nearly dropping the girl. His face contorted in agony, his eyes bulging as if something unseen was crushing him from the inside. He clutched at his head, a strangled sob escaping his lips. Izari's vision distorted for a split second, his ears rang, his heartbeat pounded in his head like a war drum. He clenched his teeth, forcing himself to move, to push past the psychic assault.
"Keep going!" Rona shouted, yanking Izari forward using his free hand, his grip firm, unwavering. "Don't listen to it!"
They pushed forward, sprinting through the tunnels, their breath burning in their lungs. The lights ahead grew dimmer as they entered a long, narrow passage lined with massive, ancient, broken monitors, relics of a forgotten age, their screens cracked and scarred. The screens flickered to life for brief, terrifying seconds, displaying distorted images, faces that should not exist, eyes that burned with an unholy light, symbols that twisted into things that hurt to look at, geometric patterns that seemed to burrow into the mind. The whispers returned, stronger this time, seeping into their minds, planting seeds of doubt and fear.
Izari stumbled again, his legs threatening to give way. His eyes were unfocused, his mind lost in the nightmarish visions.
"Cut it out!" Rona growled, his voice laced with a desperate urgency, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him forward. "Focus!"
The screens crackled, their images growing more intense, more invasive. An image lingered on one of them, a tall, shadowy figure with piercing, hollow eyes staring directly at them, a malevolent gaze that seemed to strip away their defenses.
Izari didn't know why, but the sight of it sparked something in him, something buried deep. A memory, perhaps. Or a warning. He couldn't fully grasp what was happening to him, but he knew he had to resist, to fight the darkness that was trying to consume him.
The pressure in his skull intensified, a vise tightening around his brain. Blood trickled from Izari's nose, a testament to the immense strain he was enduring. The girl twitched in Rona's arms, her fever rising even higher; it seemed that whatever was affecting him was affecting her too.
And then-
The lights behind them died, plunging the corridor into absolute darkness.
Heavy footsteps thundered toward them, the sound amplified in the confined space.
"MOVE!"
At the end of the corridor, they saw it. a rusted maintenance ladder leading to a hatch above, a desperate glimmer of hope in the oppressive darkness.
Izari reached it first. Without hesitation, he leaped onto the ladder and began climbing, his movements driven by a primal instinct to survive.
Rona struggled, Cassia's dead weight slowing him down, his movements sluggish and clumsy. The sound of the pursuers was right behind them now, closing in with terrifying speed. A hand, black-gloved, covered in something metallic, pulsing with a sickly green light reached out from the darkness, just inches away from grabbing Rona's ankle.
Izari reached down, seizing Rona's arm and yanking both him and the cradled Cassia upward, his muscles screaming in protest. The moment the rebel reached the top, scrambling onto the platform where he gently placed the girl, Izari kicked the ladder loose, sending it crashing into the darkness below, a reprieve.
They barely had a moment to breathe before Rona slammed his shoulder into the hatch above. It didn't budge, a stubborn barrier between them and freedom.
"Help me!" he grunted, his face contorted with exertion, his voice strained.
Izari, fueled by desperation, slammed into it with all his strength, his battered body absorbing the impact.
The hatch gave way, bursting open with a deafening roar. Cold, polluted air rushed in, a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere below, as they spilled onto the surface, a desolate underground industrial yard filled with abandoned cargo containers, their rusted metal walls covered in strange, unholy markings. A few outcasts, some in rags and others in fairly decent clothes, wandered about, their faces etched with despair. This commotion caused some of them to stop what they were doing to look at Izari, Rona, and the girl, their hollowed eyes staring with apathy and fatigue. This place was a refuge of sorts, a forgotten corner of the world where the desperate clung to life.
They barely had time to process their surroundings before the muffled voices returned from below, growing louder, closer.
"They're coming."
Izari grabbed Rona and Cassia, pulling them forward, his eyes scanning their surroundings.
"We need to disappear. Now."
Izari looked ahead, his gaze sweeping across the industrial wasteland. "Where the hell do we even go?"
Rona, barely able to keep himself standing, his eyes bloodshot and glazed, scanned the industrial wasteland before them. His jaw tightened, a spark of recognition igniting within his weary eyes. "Wait… I know this place,"
His movements appeared to regain some strength. "West Sprawl. Sector 13…" he immediately turned left and started running, his voice laced with urgency. "This way!" Izari now carried Cassia, her body limp in his arms, and immediately ran behind, his senses on high alert.
As they vanished into the industrial ruins, a lone figure emerged from the hatch behind them. He steps into the light, and all goes silent.
It was the seer, his face still concealed beneath the shadow. His gloved hand brushed against the rusted container walls. The unnatural markings pulsed a dim green briefly at his touch, reacting to his presence.
He looked up toward the underground ceiling several meters up, a chilling expression on his face.
And then, with a voice that cut through the polluted night air, he murmured:
"You can run. But the shadows you flee will find you before dawn breaks."
The whisper carries through the wind, a chilling promise of inevitable doom.
Izari felt the weight of those words press against his mind, a psychic shackle binding him to his pursuers. He looked back briefly, just long enough to see the figure standing at the hatch watching them, before turning away.
And for the first time in a long time-
He felt truly hunted.