"Run!"
The word ripped from Kharon's throat as he shoved two students ahead of him, his spears spinning behind his back to deflect the swing of a rusted pipe.
Burngear turned sharply, mismatched eyes glowing bright red as he slammed his mechanical arm into the ground, splitting the pavement with the force.
"Why are we running?!" he roared, his voice harsh with anger and frustration. "We can tear through them in seconds!"
"Are you that dumb?!" Gummy shrieked as she barely ducked under the arc of a kitchen cleaver that whistled past her head.
The Doctor's voice cut through the chaos, firm but calm.
"As much as I agree with your assessment—"
His tone sharpened.
"—killing innocent lives isn't one of our objectives."
He didn't look at Burngear when he said it.
He looked at Kharon.
And then at the students—who, despite being surrounded, had already sheathed their weapons.
It was a silent declaration:
Even if he ordered them to kill… they wouldn't.
"Go!" Zima shouted, grabbing Istina's wrist as they sprinted down a side alley, the sound of pounding footsteps echoing behind them.
They darted past collapsed scaffolding and heaps of loose bricks, but every time they turned a corner, civilians emerged from doorways, rooftops, even underground maintenance hatches—like the entire district had been waiting for them.
Hands clutched makeshift weapons—pipes, shovels, even broken broom handles with knives lashed to the ends.
The blows were wild but relentless, forcing the group to duck and weave constantly.
Burngear vaulted over a fruit cart, smashing through a wooden railing on the other side.
"Seriously?! We're running from civilians?!" he snarled.
"Shut up and move!" Zima snapped back, shoving him forward as she swung her axe—not striking the man rushing her, but catching his wrist and twisting just enough to make him drop the crowbar before she shoved him aside.
"Gummy, left!" Rosa barked.
Gummy spun, just in time to see Katerina—her friend—sprinting toward her with a jagged screwdriver clutched tightly in both hands, her face blank and empty, eyes unblinking.
Gummy yelped and leapt backward.
"You are so not invited to my next birthday!"
Kharon intercepted Katerina before the girl could trip over Gummy's legs, his spear catching her wrist and sending the screwdriver skittering harmlessly away before he knocked her gently aside with the blunt end of his weapon.
"Move!" Kharon barked, hauling Gummy up by the back of her collar and practically tossing her forward.
As they ran, Istina and Rosa fell back slightly to watch the pattern of their pursuers.
"They're… coordinated," Istina noted, her tone laced with unease.
"Too coordinated," Rosa added grimly as she shot a glance over her shoulder, watching two groups flank them from both sides in perfect sync.
"Honestly," Leto muttered as she caught up to them, "they're better than some of our classmates."
Burngear snarled, vaulting over another low wall and slamming his fist into the stone to create an opening for them to pass through.
"Maybe they're operators disguised as civilians," he suggested, his voice sharp.
"No," Kal'tsit's voice cut through from the drone overhead.
"Why not?!"
"Because I'm receiving readings from every single one of them," Kal'tsit replied coldly.
The group ducked as a spray of bricks smashed into the wall above them, thrown by three men in perfect unison.
"Some sort of signal."
Burngear skidded to a stop briefly, his brow furrowed.
"…Maybe thought-loops implanted in their heads?"
"Possible," Kal'tsit admitted, her tone clipped. "But whatever the method, it's effective."
The chase carried them through another block, then another, each corner turning into another narrow escape.
By the time the group burst onto the final stretch of street, their lungs burned and their legs felt like lead.
At the far end, lit only by the dim glow of broken streetlamps, stood an old church—its cracked stained-glass windows reflecting the deep orange of the fading dusk behind it.
Above, the bell tower loomed like a sentinel.
And standing atop it, perfectly balanced against the narrow ledge, was the Director of Continuity.
His posture was effortless, one hand in his pocket, the other loosely clasping the railing as he gazed down at them.
The night sky framed him like a painting, the last traces of sunlight bleeding out into the horizon as if the world itself were holding its breath.
Burngear stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes blazing bright red.
"You…"
He grit his teeth, fury lacing every word.
"…smug piece of—"
His legs ignited with a sharp blast of energy as his mechanical arm flared with unstable charge.
"Hey!" Rosa barked, instinctively bracing herself.
BOOM.
The ground cracked open beneath him as Burngear launched himself forward, the shockwave blasting rubble in every direction. Even his allies were thrown back a step from the sheer force of his propulsion.
But before Burngear could reach halfway across the courtyard, two shapes erupted from the ground in front of him.
They were constructs—human-shaped but smooth and featureless, with flowing outlines reminiscent of sculptures carved in marble.
Yet their silhouettes…
Resembled Theresa.
One seized Burngear's right arm mid-swing, the other catching his leg in a crushing grip.
"What the hell—?!" Burngear roared, thrashing violently, but the constructs' strength was unyielding.
They dragged him down, slamming him against the cobblestones with enough force to send cracks spiderwebbing across the ground.
From his perch above, the Director's smile didn't waver.
"You…"
He tilted his head slightly, as though in mild disappointment.
"…fail."