Rain drummed against the rooftops like impatient fingers. Neon signs fractured on puddles, tossing distorted reflections across the alley walls. Every shadow seemed deliberate tonight, every drip of water a warning.
Splash… drip… hum…
I crouched, scanning the ground. The emblems. The scraps. The marks. Something had changed. Subtle, but unmistakable. Someone wasn't just leaving clues they were leaving me clues. Tailored, precise, personal.
Click… click…
The faintest scrape of metal against concrete. Someone had been here, recently. Watching. Waiting. Testing.
I muttered under my breath, sarcastic as ever: "Lovely. Personalized terror. Just what I needed."
My gaze drifted to one of the marks on a fire escape beam. And froze. My name. Not scrawled in paint or written casually, but etched. Sharp, deliberate, unmistakable. Someone knew exactly who I was. Someone had been watching me, learning me, anticipating me.
Splash… splash… drip…
The inner voice hissed: Walk away. Forget it. Stop noticing. Go back to safety.
Ha. Safety. That was a joke. Boring streets had never been my style. Curiosity had a tight grip on me, and luck or lack thereof kept pulling me deeper.
I crouched lower, examining the trail. Emblems, marks, scraps they formed a pattern. A network. Routes through abandoned blocks, dead factories, and silent warehouses. Places where the city forgot to exist. Perfect for someone who wanted to disappear… or for someone who wanted to watch me flounder.
Rustle… drip… tap…
Movement. A figure, faceless, deliberate, almost floating across the street ahead. I froze. No fear. Well, maybe a little. But excitement, thrill, and irritation all tangled together in that familiar knot in my gut.
I whispered, sarcastic as always: "Oh, perfect. A nightmare stamped with my name. Cute. Real cute."
A faint metallic clang echoed somewhere to the left. The trail continued, guiding me, daring me, mocking me. I followed. Each puddle, each shadow, each glimmering scrap a signal.
Splash… splash… hum…
The watchers weren't random anymore. I wasn't just observing. I was the target.. Every breadcrumb was for me, every pattern mapped to my movements. The stakes sky-rocketed. The game wasn't about surviving by chance. It was about responding, adapting, and maybe… outsmarting.
I glanced around. Rain-slick streets stretched endlessly, neon signs flickering like a city breathing in Morse code. And I realized, fully and undeniably: there was no walking away. Not now. Not ever.
My pulse picked up. Heart hammering. Breath shallow. Adrenaline electric.
"Fine," I muttered to myself, voice tight with sarcasm and determination. "Game's personal. I'm in it. Let's see who folds first. Hint: it won't be me."
Splash… drip… click…
The city hummed around me, alive, patient, indifferent. And I knew one thing for certain: this wasn't survival anymore. This was war.