On the streets of Hell's Kitchen, a chaotic chase unfolded under the cover of darkness. Robert ran full speed, weaving through alleyways, while a swarm of red-clothed ninjas hunted him like wolves.
They didn't trail directly behind but darted along the rooftops of low buildings on both sides, shadowing him from above like vultures circling prey.
Thankfully, none of them were doing the signature anime-style ninja run—arms flung behind the back. If they had, Robert feared they might have already caught up to him. Even so, their numbers and agility made it clear they were closing in.
Robert took a sharp turn into an alley.
Shhhk! Shhhk! Shhhk!
The sound of tearing air cut through the night. Robert's pupils widened. Time slowed. In bullet time, he watched as ninja darts flew toward him from every direction.
Adrenaline flooded his body, and in an instant, his physical capabilities surged. He twisted and contorted, narrowly dodging the majority of the darts with a comically flexible form. But there were too many. To shield the bulging sack and the priceless statue in his hands, Robert took a few darts straight to his body.
A numbing sensation radiated from the wounds. His fingers twitched. Dizziness crept in.
"Poison," he muttered.
His movements became sluggish. Gritting his teeth, he staggered toward a corner, gently laying down the sack and the statue. Then, using his last bit of strength, he flopped to the ground and wailed in dramatic fashion: "Aghh! I've been shot! I'm going down!"
Then he crawled a short distance away, found a decent-looking patch of concrete, and flopped backward in what he believed to be an Oscar-worthy faint.
Seconds later, several ninjas leapt down from the rooftops and formed a tight circle around his supposedly unconscious body. Their eyes scanned Robert's body, noting the darts embedded in his side. Their poison was potent enough to knock out a horse, so they assumed Robert was completely paralyzed.
"Target secured," one ninja said into a comm.
A raspy voice responded through his earpiece. "Bring the thief back. Dispatch the rest to find the other two."
"Understood."
Just as they began reaching for Robert, his eyes snapped open.
Two sleek, customized pistols appeared in his hands like magic.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Golden muzzle flashes erupted. The closest ninjas didn't even have time to react before their heads were punctured by rapid-fire rounds. Blood sprayed across the alley walls.
Those further away tossed down smoke bombs in panic. The alley was instantly blanketed in a thick cloud.
But smoke didn't matter to Robert.
He could see their souls.
Their precise movements through the haze were visible as glowing silhouettes in his mind. While they thought they were concealed, Robert moved like a ghost through the mist, pistols raised. His shots were unerring.
A ninja crept closer through the smoke, blade ready. He never saw the barrel of the gun pointed directly at his head.
"Hey," Robert said softly. "You wanna buy or get bagged?"
Bang!
It was a massacre.
In mere seconds, over a dozen ninjas fell to the ground. As the smoke cleared, Robert stood tall in the center of the carnage, guns smoking, blood soaking into the cracked pavement. He looked like a shadow stitched into reality—silent, still, and deadly.
His voice echoed through the alley, calm and menacing:
"Sorry... but you're already surrounded by me."
Across the city, Matt and Erica weren't faring as well.
After the bulk of the ninjas chased Robert, the two caught their breath—until Matt sensed movement nearby.
Another group of red-clothed ninjas.
Matt cursed inwardly. Just as he was about to warn Erica, the entire group turned their heads in perfect synchronization—staring directly at him.
Matt remembered.
He was still glowing.
The damn fluorescent powder Robert had convinced him to smear all over his suit earlier still shimmered in the dark. He looked like a neon "kick me" sign.
There was a pause.
Matt and Erica dropped everything they were carrying and lunged forward.
The fight was immediate and brutal. Though both were highly skilled, the sheer number of enemies overwhelmed them. Matt was already injured from the elevator battle. His strength was fading.
Worse yet, during the skirmish, Erica took a few hits from the ninjas' poisoned blades.
"Toxins," she muttered, her balance faltering.
Her face paled. She gritted her teeth but struggled to stand.
Matt fought harder, pushing back multiple ninjas at once, trying to shield her. But he could feel her weakening by the second.
They were cornered.
He knew it.
She knew it.
They needed a miracle.
Back in the alley, Robert knelt beside the sack and statue, wiping his brow.
"Whew... That was close."
He looked at the remains of the ambush and grinned. "Note to self: poison resistance training works."
Then he heard it.
Faint, frantic breathing from a rooftop above. Reinforcements.
More ninjas.
"Oh come on, don't you guys know when to quit?" Robert muttered.
He reloaded his pistols, stood up, and faced the shadows.
"Round two... Begin."
In the heart of Hell's Kitchen, a war was still raging.
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