Chris's boots slammed against the broken pavement as he ran. His right hand was pressed hard against his left shoulder, his fingers covered in blood as he clumsily tried to stop the bleeding from the wound.
Every step he took sent a jolt of pain through his collarbone, down his spine, into his legs, but he kept running. Despite the pain, he kept looking over his shoulder into the night.
The mission was supposed to be simple.
Infiltrate one of the cult bases, learn about the elites among them, and bring back any useful information. However, the moment he set foot inside the abandoned factory that doubled as their base, things went south.
It wasn't a low-tier forward base as Chris was told. It was more like the cult's regional headquarters. The plan was a bust from the minute he walked inside.
But that didn't mean he couldn't get any useful information. Something ridiculous was about to go down in the next trial of the new recruits, and Chris had to inform the higher-ups about it.
