The corridor smelled of dust and scorched paper, the remnants of the Syndicate branch's chaos lingering in the shadows. Broken panels leaned against walls, and faint light filtered through cracks above, painting the debris in streaks of gray. Silence ruled, except for the occasional scuff of a stray foot or the soft sigh of shifting metal.
Drip… faint metallic echo… soft gust of air…
I wasn't expecting company. And yet, there he was. Elliot. Stepping from the darkness, eyes cold, unflinching. No hesitation. No familiarity. Just the weight of disappointment pressing against the walls.
"I don't even recognize you anymore," he said, voice low but cutting, each word a scalpel.
I let a faint smirk tug at the corner of my lips. "The city eats everyone. You'll be back," I replied, my tone casual, almost teasing, as if the corridors themselves couldn't hear the tremor beneath the words.
Elliot didn't argue. Didn't linger. His gaze swept over the rubble, over the empty offices, the bodies of those who had tried and failed, and landed back on me. "No, Dylan. It already ate you."
I froze just long enough to notice my hand shaking slightly, a subtle betrayal I didn't like to admit even to myself. But he didn't wait for me to respond. He turned, walking down the corridor, shadows swallowing his retreating form. No looking back. No second chance. Just gone.
Click… a distant panel snapping into place…
I watched him go, the echo of his footsteps fading into nothing. And for the first time in a long while, the emptiness pressed against me not the absence of enemies, but the absence of the tether that had kept me human, that had kept me anchored.
I let out a dry laugh, low and bitter. "Funny. I used to chase him. Now I let him go. Guess I finally leveled up… or leveled out."
The corridors were silent once more. No one to manipulate, no one to protect, no one to challenge. Just me and the remnants of what had been a war. Victory should have felt lighter. Triumphant. But it didn't. It felt hollow.
Soft scrape… distant hum…
I ran a hand over the cold metal of a wall, tracing the marks of battles fought and betrayals executed. Every step I'd taken, every move I'd orchestrated, had led to this solitary aftermath. And yet, there was a strange satisfaction in it a clean, unyielding clarity.
I straightened, shoulders squared, eyes narrowing as I surveyed the empty halls. "Funny how the city gives you control… and then reminds you what you lost."
No one answered. No one ever would.
The city was quiet. And I was alone.