District 12 didn't smell like smoke.
That was the first thing I noticed.
The air was still sour, still metallic, but beneath it was something else. Rot. Old blood. Waste left too long in places no one bothered to clean anymore. The kind of smell that didn't come from destruction, but from neglect.
People still lived here.
That was the problem.
The streets narrowed as we crossed the boundary. No barricades. No tape. Just a subtle change in the way the buildings leaned inward, like they were listening. Streetlights worked sporadically, casting uneven pools of yellow that didn't quite reach the walls.
Bodies lay where they had fallen.
Some were covered. Most weren't.
No one screamed. No one cried. The dead had already been acknowledged and forgotten. A man sat on a stoop beside a woman who hadn't moved in hours, staring straight ahead like this was just another evening.
'I hate this place' I thought in my mind.
Alex's grip tightened around my hand.
I slowed without meaning to.
"Don't look too long," I told him quietly.
He nodded, eyes fixed on the ground.
Good kid.
The closer we got to the breach zone, the quieter everything became. Not empty, just quiet. Conversations stopped when we passed. Eyes followed us from windows reinforced with scrap plating and stolen tech. Symbols were spray-painted over old evacuation signs, layered so thick it was hard to tell which came first.
Gang marks.
I recognized a few.
That made my stomach tighten.
District 12 sat too close to the breach to be this calm. Cleanup crews should have been swarming the place. IRT patrols should have been visible, even if only to pretend they cared.
Instead, there was nothing.
No drones.
No announcements.
No soldiers.
Just people watching to see if we would survive the walk.
My head buzzed again, stronger this time. Not pain. Pressure. Like something nearby was leaning toward me, curious.
I exhaled slowly and kept moving.
Alex stumbled over something soft.
I caught him before he fell.
It was a body.
Too small.
He sucked in a sharp, panicked breath, and I pulled him closer, turning him away before he could see the face.
"It's okay," I said, not believing it. "I've got you."
That was when I heard it.
Laughter.
Low. Amused.
From above.
I stopped.
Alex froze with me.
Boots scraped against metal as someone shifted on a fire escape two floors up. Another shape leaned out from a broken balcony across the street. More movement followed, subtle and practiced.
We weren't alone on our walk anymore.
A voice carried down, casual and sharp.
"Didn't think anyone stupid enough to walk in here after a breach."
Another voice answered.
"Kid too. That's bold."
My pulse picked up.
Not fear.
Recognition.
I counted exits. None I liked.
I stepped forward just enough to put myself fully between them and Alex.
"Not looking for trouble," I said evenly. "Just passing through."
Silence stretched.
Then a different voice spoke, lower and colder.
"Funny," it said. "You did the same thing last time."
My blood went cold.
They knew me.
The pressure in my head spiked, sharp enough to blur my vision for half a second. I clenched my jaw and forced it down.
Alex whispered, barely audible, "Leon…?"
I didn't answer.
Because somewhere in District 12, I had just been recognized.
And this time, running wasn't going to be easy.
The silence broke with slow applause.
One.
Two.
Three.
"Still got that look," the voice said. "Like you're already planning how to crawl out."
A figure dropped from the fire escape and landed in the street with a metallic thud. His coat was patched with scavenged armor plates, mismatched but functional. Old gang tech. Upgraded. Familiar.
He had a long scar across his face, deep blue eyes, auburn hair.
A face I remembered too well.
More shapes followed, six, maybe seven, filtering out of doorways and stairwells until the street closed in around us.
Alex's fingers dug into my sleeve.
"Leon," he whispered again.
"Stay behind me," I said quietly. "No matter what happens."
The man in front stepped closer, boots crunching over broken glass.
"You disappeared," he said. "Took everything with you. Left us bleeding."
His eyes flicked to Alex.
"And now you're dragging kids through our territory."
"I'm not here for you," I replied. "Let us pass."
He laughed. Others joined in.
"That's the problem," he said. "You never are."
Something in the air shifted.
The hum roared in my skull, louder and harsher. The breach was too close. I could feel it pulling at the edges of my thoughts, slowing reactions, smearing intent. Like thinking through syrup.
I really hated this place.
"I want you breathing," the man continued. "For now."
His gaze hardened.
"The kid's optional."
I moved.
On a normal day, I would have been gone before they realized I had moved at all.
Today, my foot slipped half a second too late.
I still hit the first man hard, drove my shoulder into his chest and sent him into a wall. The second clipped my ribs with a stun baton. Pain flared white-hot. I gritted my teeth and twisted, grabbed Alex with one hand and shoved him behind a concrete pillar.
"Don't move," I snapped.
They swarmed.
I fought dirty, elbows, knees, pressure points, but my timing was off. Thoughts lagged. Muscles didn't respond the way they should have.
Something slammed into the back of my head.
The world tilted.
I went down on one knee.
"Still dangerous," someone muttered. "As always."
I tasted blood.
Dimly, I realized something else had noticed.
The hum shifted.
Focused.
A vibration rippled through the street, subtle at first. One of the gang members swore and glanced over his shoulder.
"Did you hear that?"
Too late.
Light tore through the sky. The air in District 12 vibrated hard enough to rattle loose debris.
Enough to draw attention.
I laughed once, breathless.
"Guess it's just my luck," I said.
Every gang member froze.
Then the sound of dropships ripped through the silence.
IRT.
Fast. Low. Aggressive.
Searchlights cut through the street, pinning us in white-hot beams. Drones descended like insects, weapons humming to life.
"Internal Response Team!" a voice boomed. "All civilians on the ground. Hands visible!"
The gang scattered instantly.
The man in front of me hesitated, just long enough.
A stun round hit him square in the chest and dropped him mid-step.
I didn't resist when they grabbed me.
I didn't have the strength.
Alex screamed my name.
"Leon!"
I twisted just enough to see him being pulled back by a trooper kneeling to his level, voice calm and controlled.
"It's okay, kid," the trooper said. "We've got you."
I let myself go limp.
The last thing I saw was an IRT commander staring at me through her visor.
Not with anger.
Not with suspicion.
Not with recognition.
With something in between.
Then everything went dark.