Chapter 4: Pursuit
The rain had turned the streets of New Arcadia into a slick maze of neon reflections. Kuroda Azein moved fast, but the Crimson Circle was faster. They had anticipated his strike, and now elite assassins were on his tail.
The Chase Begins
From the rooftops, Kuroda watched them move: three motorcycles cutting through traffic, drones scanning overhead, and foot squads shadowing every alley.
Mira's voice came through the earpiece, urgent but precise: "They've deployed trackers. Every route you take is being monitored. You need to split their focus."
Kuroda's eyes narrowed. "Then we give them a ghost to chase."
High-Octane Urban Combat
He leapt across a rooftop gap, rolling into an alley where two foot soldiers awaited. One strike incapacitated the first; the second barely had time to react before Kuroda used a chain-link fence to redirect a takedown.
Motorcycles roared past, tires screeching on wet asphalt. Kuroda grabbed one of the bikes mid-leap, using it as both shield and weapon. The driver crashed into a stack of crates; sparks flew as chaos erupted.
Drones hovered above, scanning relentlessly. Kuroda hurled an EMP device, sending sparks and smoke into the sky, temporarily blinding the electronic eyes.
Brutal Hand-to-Hand Combat
The pursuit led them into a narrow construction site. Kuroda's foes were relentless, and some had trained to counter his tactics. Blades clashed, fists met bone, and metal pipes became weapons of opportunity.
He moved fluidly, every strike measured, every dodge precise. Even surrounded, Kuroda was unstoppable—his training, instincts, and tactical mind turning near-death encounters into controlled chaos.
Turning the Tables
Using a combination of speed, terrain, and calculated aggression, Kuroda funneled the remaining assassins into a trap—an underpass rigged with improvised explosives. One by one, the Crimson Circle's hunters were neutralized, leaving only silence in the rain-soaked streets.
Breathing heavily, Kuroda helped his ally to their feet. "This was just the beginning," he said.
Mira's voice came calm, yet tinged with urgency: "They won't stop. They'll regroup, and next time, they'll bring more than we've seen."
Kuroda nodded. "Then we make sure we're ready for them. Every shadow, every alley—they'll never know what hit them."
Closing Tension
As the neon lights flickered over the city, Kuroda disappeared into the darkness once again. The Crimson Circle had learned one lesson: challenging 001 wasn't just dangerous—it was suicidal.
One man. One army. One relentless pursuit.