The rain-soaked city trembled like a skinned old cat. Streets muddy, lights flickering, the air reeked of burned wires.
Karl and I crouched atop an abandoned office building, watching the squads below—black uniforms, precise movements, professional butchers.
"They're faster than rats," Karl growled.
"At least rats sniff cheese first," I smirked. "These guys only smell reward money."
Since the Bureau branded me traitor, life became absurd and fatal. Yesterday we planned to save the world; today the world hunts us.
Karl shoved a battered gun into my hand, voice shaking: "Do we even… have a chance?"
I studied it—barrel cracked, trigger loose like a cheap lighter.
"Of course," I said, biting a half-cigarette. "We just have to look stylish before we're riddled with holes."
Karl let out a broken laugh. "You're insane."
"Insane people don't get disappointed."
A loudspeaker blared below: "Ethan, you are charged with treason. Surrender now, or face maximum authorized firepower."
Sounded more like an insurance pitch.
I leaned out, shouting: "Does that include funeral coverage? With wreaths?"
The answer was a barrage of bullets. Glass shattered inward in a storm of sparks.
"Damn—they really want you erased," Karl muttered.
"No kidding. If they let me live, they admit they were wrong." I sneered. "And truth isn't worth a bullet."
We fled downward. The stairwell groaned like a snitch announcing our every step. Bullets tore chunks from the walls. I thought grimly: If I die here, my obituary will say: 'Notorious Traitor—Accidentally Tripped.'
At the basement, another squad kicked in the door. Flashlights stabbed my eyes.
"This is it," Karl whispered.
I laughed. "No—it's the start. They call me traitor, right?"
"So?"
"So why follow their rules?"
I unleashed a wild spray. Not aimed—just catharsis. Someone screamed, bodies dropped, more surged forward. Karl's gun barked back to back, his last chorus.
We were cornered mutts, biting with nothing left to lose.
Then silence. A masked captain stepped forward: "Ethan. You are forsaken. You have no one left."
Blood trickled down my face as I grinned: "Forsaken? Good. I hate crowded parties."
Karl nearly choked on a laugh—even here.
The soldiers raised rifles. But then—BOOM. The rooftop exploded, fire swallowing half the sky. Someone else had entered the game.
Chaos erupted. Karl and I rolled into the shadows, slipping into a sewer tunnel.
"We really… only have each other now," Karl gasped.
"Perfect," I smirked bitterly. "When we die, at least we'll testify for each other—that the world betrayed us both."
The stench of sewage mixed with rain, like rotten consolation. We staggered into the dark.
Forsaken? Yes. But in that isolation, we finally saw it clearly: the world itself was nothing but a collective lie.