The Hunter and the Hunted

My heart pounded as I sprinted through the tunnel, my footsteps splashing through stagnant puddles. The walls were cracked concrete, covered in rusted pipes and old maintenance panels. The air reeked of mold and something worse—something metallic, like old blood.

Behind me, boots struck the ground in perfect rhythm. Not hurried. Not frantic. Measured. They knew I had nowhere to run.

Damn it.

I skidded around a corner and nearly tripped over a pile of broken machinery. My pulse spiked. The tunnel split into two paths ahead, both curving into darkness. I couldn't afford hesitation.

I took the left path.

The instant I turned, a red light flickered ahead. A security drone, hovering silently. Its spherical frame whirred as it locked onto me, scanning me with a pulsing blue beam.

[Security Scan Detected.]

Shit!

I dived forward just as the drone let out a high-pitched shriek. A pulse of electricity slammed into the wall behind me, burning a deep scorch mark into the concrete. The acrid scent of ozone filled the air.

I rolled onto my feet and kept running.

The exit—where the hell is the exit?

Footsteps echoed behind me—closer now.

A second drone hummed to life up ahead, its chassis rotating toward me. I had less than a second to react.

I grabbed a rusted metal pipe from the floor and threw it as hard as I could. It spun through the air, colliding with the drone's optics. The machine jolted, its scanning light flickering.

That was all I needed.

I sprinted past, barely slipping by before it rebooted.

[Adaptation Protocol Activated.]

A cold shiver ran down my spine. A rush of clarity. My movements became sharper, more precise. I had felt this before—when I dodged the first attack back in the alley. The system was reacting to my survival instinct, fine-tuning my body's response. I wasn't just running anymore. I was adapting.

But I wasn't out yet.

A new voice crackled through the tunnels.

"Target located. Engaging suppression protocols."

I swore under my breath. That wasn't a drone. That was a soldier.

I threw myself to the side just as a burst of gunfire roared through the tunnel. Sparks erupted from the walls, bullets tearing through old piping. Steam hissed from broken valves, filling the air with a blinding mist.

I didn't stop. I couldn't.

I bolted forward, dodging through the haze. My legs burned, my lungs felt like they were on fire, but I kept going. I had to keep going.

A second burst of gunfire—closer this time.

They were gaining.

I spotted a maintenance ladder up ahead, bolted to the wall. My only chance.

I lunged, gripping the first rung, and hoisted myself up. The metal groaned under my weight, but I didn't slow. I climbed fast, my fingers slipping on the damp steel.

A sharp clang rang out below me. A soldier had reached the base of the ladder.

I didn't look down.

I reached the top and scrambled onto a grated walkway. No time to breathe. I dashed forward, metal rattling beneath me.

Then—

A sharp whistle cut through the air.

Instinct screamed at me.

I threw myself to the ground just as something whipped past my ear. A throwing knife buried itself into the metal railing with a dull thunk.

A figure stepped into view.

Tall. Clad in matte-black armor with a half-helmet obscuring their face. A dark insignia was etched onto their shoulder pad—three vertical slashes, jagged like claw marks.

Not a soldier. A hunter.

I gritted my teeth. The system's interface flickered in my vision.

[Unknown Combatant Identified.]

Designation: Elite Pursuer – [KX-11]

Threat Level: [High]

Weapons Detected: Compact SMG, Throwing Blades, Cybernetic Enhancements

Status: Actively Hunting You

The moment I saw "Elite," I knew I was done for.

He moved.

No hesitation. No wasted motion. One step forward and he was already on me, drawing another knife in a smooth arc.

I barely raised my arms in time.

Pain.

The blade sliced across my forearm, a flash of silver and crimson. I stumbled back, biting down a curse. Too fast. Too precise.

He pivoted, already launching another strike. I ducked—barely—and threw a wild punch at his side.

He caught it. His grip crushed down on my wrist, cold as metal.

Then he yanked me forward—

A knee slammed into my stomach. White-hot agony exploded in my gut.

I choked, nearly collapsing, but he didn't let go. He twisted, throwing me against the railing. My vision blurred. I felt the cold steel press against my back.

He raised his knife for a finishing strike.

Move, dammit.

I kicked out, slamming my heel into his shin.

He didn't flinch.

But he loosened his grip.

That was enough.

I wrenched my arm free and shoved myself backward—over the railing.

For half a second, I was weightless.

Then—

I hit the ground hard, rolling on impact. My ribs screamed in protest, but I forced myself up. The fall had put distance between us. I didn't wait to see if he'd follow.

I ran.

I didn't stop until I saw light.

Not the dim, flickering fluorescents of the tunnels. Real light.

I stumbled into the open and froze.

A city.

Not the one I had known. Not the towering skyscrapers of the surface, gleaming with neon and corporate logos. This was below.

Buildings were crammed together in jagged, uneven layers, stacked like a chaotic maze. Old bridges and rusted catwalks linked them like a spider's web. Dim lanterns and flickering holographic signs painted everything in sickly hues of green and red.

People moved through the streets—figures wrapped in patchwork cloaks, cybernetic implants glinting under the dull light. Some walked with purpose. Others loitered in the shadows, watching.

I had heard rumors.

Of a place where the unwanted, the hunted, and the forgotten disappeared. A city beneath the city.

I swallowed hard.

I had just entered the Underveil.