Act 1: Embers of Victory
The tunnels still smoldered. Smoke curled in lazy spirals, thick and bitter, clinging to walls blackened by fire. I moved carefully, boots crunching over rubble, the metallic tang of blood sharp enough to make my stomach complain. Heat pressed down like it had a personal grudge.
Crackle… drip…
Corpses lay tangled across the corridors, rebels and enforcers indistinguishable in death's careless tangle. I nudged one with my boot. Didn't even twitch. The city doesn't keep score. It just buries what's left.
Pop… hiss…
Scorch marks lined the walls like reminders written in smoke. My fingers brushed the stone where Kara had fallen. Lesson remembered. Trust gets you killed. And yes, sarcasm doesn't make it hurt any less.
Creak… clatter…
Every step felt heavier and faster at once. Victory isn't a line you cross it's the cruel joke dangling between one fight and the next. Pieces scattered, cracks widening. And I stood smack in the middle, smirking like the city owed me a punchline.
A soft shuffle behind me. Elliot. Alive. Scarred. The bastard looked like he'd survived a funeral and came back for dessert.
"You think you've won. You just lit a bigger fire," he said, calm, tired.
"Bigger fire, better view," I replied. "You're welcome for the light show."
Hiss… pop…
His eyes lingered. A reminder of who I used to be or who I wasn't allowed to be. He was right. This wasn't victory. Just smoke, ash, and my impeccable timing.
Rattle… echo…
The tunnels seemed alive, shadows watching, walls breathing. Paranoia clung to me like soot in the lungs. I'd survived worse. Still, somewhere deep, a pulse throbbed, stubborn, refusing to let me forget.
Whisper… sigh…
From the darkness came a faint laugh or maybe just the wind but it curled through the rubble like a teasing voice. The city doesn't forgive. Doesn't reward. It waits, silent, patient, until you stumble.
I didn't stumble. Not today. Not yet.
I tilted my head at the smoke-filled ceiling. "Well, at least someone's keeping busy while I'm doing all the heavy lifting."