Rain returned in lazy drips, puddles forming in the uneven cracks of the streets. The city smelled of wet concrete and metal clean, sharp, threatening. My boots squelched with each step, coat heavy with damp, hair plastered to my forehead.
Click… splash… drip…
I followed the latest breadcrumb, a scrap of paper with jagged coordinates, leading me through alleys I didn't recognize or maybe I'd just never noticed. The inner voice screamed: Turn back. Walk away. Forget it.
Ha. Walk away. Cute.
Rustle…
Movement flitted across the shadows, deliberate, calculating. Someone was close. Always close. Always watching.
I ducked behind a dumpster, heart hammering, scanning. The alley stretched ahead, narrow and dark. The faintest metallic scent lingered blood? Or just the city teasing me?
Splash… drip… click…
Then it hit me a wire stretched across the ground. Almost invisible in the dim light, taut like a trap. I froze mid-step. Not fear, exactly. Recognition. Someone had thought of this. Planned it. Tested me.
I muttered, voice low: "Well, fantastic. They really hate letting me walk normally."
A click echoed. A door slammed somewhere behind me. I barely caught a glimpse of a figure, masked, moving like smoke along the walls. Not fast, not slow. Just deliberate. Waiting. Calculating.
A sudden clang of metal my foot had caught something. A trigger. A cage of chains and steel swung down from above. I rolled, barely avoiding the impact, scraping my elbow against the wet pavement. Pain flared, but the adrenaline was stronger.
Splash… drip… hum…
The figure advanced, slow, measured, guiding me. Not attacking outright. Testing. A maze of traps and marks. Whoever they were, they weren't random. They were teaching. Or selecting.
I muttered sarcastically, teeth gritted: "Marvelous. Guided tours in death alley. Must be a new trend."
Click… click…
Every step, every puddle, every shadow was a clue. Misstep and well, who knows? I had no idea what the rules were, only that they existed. And I was breaking them, one cautious step at a time.
The alley ended at a dead-end, walls slick with rainwater. Another emblem, scrawled sharp and jagged into the concrete. I realized with a chill: this wasn't about survival by chance. It was a game. My mistakes, my choices they all mattered.
Rustle…
A faint whisper drifted across the wet air. Why you?
I froze. Not because I was scared. Because the question echoed in my own head. Why me?
No answer. Only the city. Only the traps. Only the silent watchers.
I took a deep breath, muttering under my damp hood: "Fine. Play your game. But don't get cocky. Luck's on my side… or at least my kind of luck."
Splash… drip… click…
And as the shadows receded, I realized: I wasn't just following anymore. I was being hunted. Carefully, methodically. But I was alive. And that made me dangerous.