The city never sleeps.
It just rots.
Neon signs hum and flicker, spilling fake colors across streets slick with oil and rain. The air stinks of copper, ozone, and the faint tang of burnt circuitry — the scent of hybrids gone bad. Somewhere below me, in the maze of alleys and rusting fire escapes, my target was bleeding. I could smell it through the chemical haze.
I crouched on the skeletal frame of an old billboard, rifle strapped to my back, a combat knife resting loosely in my palm. My knees ached from the cold steel beneath them, but I stayed perfectly still. The city teaches you quick — the moment you shift your weight, someone hears it, someone sees it, and someone tries to kill you for it.
Down in the alley, the hybrid rummaged through the corpse of a scavenger. He was a messy kill — head half caved in, chest cavity ripped open like a garbage bag. Hybrids didn't kill for food. They killed because their processors couldn't handle human emotion, and that overload turned into violence. The scientists liked to call it "malfunction." I called it murder.
The comm in my ear crackled.
Rayden: "Target confirmed. Forty thousand credits if you bring him in breathing. Half if you don't."
I smiled without humor. "Alive is expensive. Dead is easier."
Rayden: "So is your reputation."
"Funny, I don't remember asking for your opinion," I muttered.
He chuckled — low, lazy, infuriating. "Don't take too long, Kael. The rain's about to turn acidic in your sector."
The hybrid's head twitched, scanning the shadows. The human part of its face was gaunt, pale — like the soul had already left, and the machine was just borrowing the body for a while. The other half was black chrome, etched with veins of faint blue light.
I flipped the knife into a reverse grip, leaned forward, and let gravity take me.
The drop was fast. I landed in a puddle with a splash, knees bent, knife ready. The hybrid froze, processor likely recalculating the unexpected threat. Then it smiled — a slow, broken grin.
"Bounty hunter," it rasped, voice glitched and metallic.
"Guilty," I said, and lunged.
The alley erupted into violence.
It swung its mechanical arm like a sledgehammer, aiming for my skull. I ducked under it, feeling the rush of air, then slashed upward, carving a line through its shoulder plating. Sparks spat into the rain. The hybrid didn't scream — they never did right away. Pain lagged behind in their system.
I pivoted, aiming for its legs. The knee joint was exposed, but before I could strike, it grabbed me by the collar and slammed me into the wall hard enough to knock the breath out of me.
I tasted blood.
It lifted me, metal fingers crushing my throat. My vision darkened at the edges, but my free hand shot to my thigh holster. The compact plasma pistol hummed to life. I shoved it against the soft flesh under its jaw and fired.
The hybrid staggered back, jaw smoking. Not dead.
Rayden: "Kael, status?"
I spat blood onto the wet ground. "Still breathing. Can't say the same for him."
It roared, sound warping like a corrupted file, and charged. I sidestepped, grabbed the back of its neck, and drove my knife into the seam where human tissue met machine casing. The blade hit resistance — then gave.
The scream was part-human, part-machine, all rage. I yanked the knife free and kicked the thing into the puddle it had been standing in. Water met exposed wiring, and for a second, the alley glowed with electric blue light.
The hybrid twitched, clawing at the ground. I crouched over it, pressing the blade to the hollow just above its heart. "Breathing, remember?" I muttered into the comm.
Rayden: "Alive, Kael. Or I dock your pay myself."
I rolled my eyes, pulled a cable restraint from my belt, and bound the hybrid's arms behind its back. It fought weakly, systems shorting from the water. I hoisted it up, muscles straining, and dragged it toward the street where my ride waited.
The armored truck was a dented, rust-streaked beast that had seen more action than most soldiers. I shoved the hybrid into the containment cell at the back, locking the reinforced door until I heard the magnetic seal engage.
Rayden was leaning against the side, arms crossed, looking far too amused for someone who hadn't lifted a finger tonight.
"You enjoy this too much," he said.
I wiped a smear of blood from my cheek. "Enjoyment doesn't buy food. Dead hybrids do."
He gave me that tilted-head look, the one that said he was trying to figure me out like a puzzle he'd already lost pieces to. "Sometimes I think you're more machine than they are."
"Machines don't bleed," I said, brushing past him.
We drove in silence for a while, the truck rattling over cracked asphalt. The city outside was a blur of steel and shadow, rain streaking across the windows.
Rayden finally spoke. "Kael, you ever think about—"
"No."
"You didn't even let me finish."
"That's because I know where your questions go. I don't care about what I've lost, who I've killed, or how much the world hates me. I care about getting paid, eating, and waking up alive tomorrow."
He didn't argue. That's one thing I liked about him — he knew when to shut up.
The drop-off was at a bounty station tucked between a weapons depot and a cybernetics shop. The kind of place that stank of gun oil and desperation. The clerk scanned the hybrid, confirmed the ID, and transferred the credits to my account.
Forty thousand. Enough for ammo, food, and maybe some whiskey strong enough to burn through my nightmares.
As I stepped back into the rain, I pulled my hood up, ready to disappear into the city's veins again.
That's when I saw it.
At the far mouth of the alley — a shape.
Tall, motionless, watching.
It wasn't a hybrid. I could tell by the stillness, the way the air didn't seem to bend around it the way it did with machines. But it wasn't human, either. My instincts screamed something else.
The figure didn't move. Didn't breathe. Didn't blink.
I took one step toward it. The rain hissed harder, bouncing off steel and skin alike. My boots splashed through shallow puddles, my fingers twitching toward the knife at my belt.
The figure tilted its head — slow, deliberate.
And then… it was gone.
The street was empty. The only sound was the rain hammering on the rooftops.
Still, the back of my neck prickled, and I had the uneasy feeling that whatever that thing was… it knew my name.
I stood there a moment longer, staring into the empty space where it had been, before turning away. The city swallowed me again, but the thought stuck like a shard of glass:
Something's coming.
And when it gets here, I'm not sure if I'll be the hunter… or the prey.