Sorren Holloway tore down the cracked avenue with smoke biting at his lungs and the tagged coin cluster pounding against his chest like it wanted to be found.
Behind him came everything.
Switch Forge responders.
Scavengers.
And now, because the planet hated him personally, a fresh Blackdrop pack.
Their shrieks split through the street—high, jagged, wrong. Sorren risked one glance over his shoulder and instantly regretted it.
Five of them.
Long-limbed. Slick black bodies with rib-like armor and white bone faces stretched too tight over twitching mouths. They moved on all fours, then two, then four again, skittering over wreckage with TKTKTKTK—SKRRAAASH—THUMP!
Sorren's eyes widened. "Why y'all built like panic attacks?"
One leaped from a wrecked storefront.
Sorren dropped low—FSSSH!—the thing flew over him and smashed through a broken traffic post instead. He came up in stride, coat snapping behind him, shoes hammering pavement in a frantic TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP rhythm.
Ahead, an elevated walkway sagged between two half-damaged buildings.
Perfect.
Or completely stupid.
Same difference.
Sorren cut right through a rain of sparks, vaulted a toppled food cart, and sprinted up the slanted hood of a burning transit van. THUD-THUD—TCHK! He launched onto the walkway railing, balanced for half a second, then ran across it above the street while people below screamed and scattered.
A responder spotted him first.
"There! Recovery target moving east!"
Sorren pointed down without slowing. "Recovery your mother!"
A blue pulse shot past his head—TZZZT!—close enough to light the edge of his locs.
Sorren flinched. "Okay, that was rude."
The Blackdrop pack didn't stop. They flowed after him, climbing walls, leaping across signs, claws screeching against concrete. One slammed onto the walkway behind him hard enough to buckle the metal.
KRAAAANG!
Sorren spun, ripped a loose support rod from the railing, and whipped it backward like a spear. WHIP-KLANG! It jammed between the creature's teeth for exactly half a second.
Which was enough.
Sorren kicked off the walkway and dropped.
WHOOOSH—BOOM!
He crashed through an awning, rolled across a vendor stand, and came up under a shower of canned drinks and broken plastic. Pain flashed through his back, but he was already moving again.
Now the responders were on one side of the intersection.
Scavengers on the other.
Blackdrops in the middle.
Sorren slowed just enough to grin.
"Yeah," he said, breathing hard. "Now we cooking."
Bronze-Face, the scavenger leader, saw him first and raised her chain blade. "Cut him off!"
The lead responder lifted his arm cannon. "Detain unauthorized holder!"
Sorren planted both feet, pointed at each group like a lunatic game host, and shouted at the top of his lungs—
"She got the coins!"
Every head snapped to Bronze-Face.
She blinked. "What?"
Sorren pointed harder. "Bronze ugly got the tagged cluster! She took it off me!"
The responders instantly fired.
TZZZ-KRAAAM! KRAK-KRAK!
Bronze-Face dove aside with a curse as blue pulse nets shredded the pavement around her crew. At the same time, the Blackdrop pack slammed into the responders from behind—DOOM! SKRRAAASH!—knocking one bike sideways and sending a Level 62 responder tumbling across the road.
The whole intersection exploded into chaos.
Scavengers swinging.
Responders blasting.
Blackdrops ripping through whoever was easiest to kill.
Sorren ducked behind a shattered pillar, laughing so hard he almost choked. "Oh, this is evil. I'm talented."
A Blackdrop suddenly crashed over the pillar.
Sorren's smile vanished.
The creature's claws came down with a brutal SHRAAAK!
He jerked sideways, but not enough.
One claw tore across his coat and chest.
RIIIIP—SSSHK!
Sorren stumbled back, hissing through his teeth as blood warmed his shirt. The Blackdrop lunged again, mouth splitting wider than it should've been able to.
Sorren grabbed a broken signpost off the ground and jammed it sideways between its jaws.
KRRRK!
The creature thrashed violently, driving him backward inch by inch.
Sorren's boots scraped trenches into the concrete. His arms shook. Breath hitched.
"Nope," he grunted. "I am not dying broke."
He twisted suddenly, using the monster's own force to swing its head sideways—straight into a responder's pulse shot.
TZZZ-BOOOM!
The blast hit the Blackdrop full in the neck. Smoke burst from the wound. It shrieked and convulsed. Sorren ripped the signpost free, turned, and sprinted again without saying thank you to anybody.
Because he was Sorren Holloway.
And because being polite in Ashlane got you buried.
Ahead, through curtains of smoke and collapsing signs, he finally saw it—
A distant silver-white tower rising over the ruined district.
The Switch Forge.
Still open.
Still waiting.
Sorren wiped blood from his mouth, leaned forward, and ran harder.