Running through alley after alley, Adrian and Freya finally stopped midway.
Freya's breathing turned heavy, sweat dripping as her heart pounded.
"How… hff… hff… how can you run like this?" she gasped.
Adrian, only slightly sweaty, gave her an apologetic look. "Sorry you had to run at my pace."
Nobody is outside because of the government orders, Adrian thought, scanning the empty streets. Almost like a curfew.
Freya's eyes caught a house with a faded For Sale sign. She pointed toward it, her finger trembling slightly. "Adrian, let's rest there."
"How can we enter someone's house without permission—" he began, but the sudden blare of a SARS siren cut him short.
"See? They're here," Freya said quickly.
"Probably on bikes. Cars can't get in here."
Adrian realized she was right. It's not like we're in a hurry. We'll rest and let things calm down.
"Alright. Let's go," he agreed.
"I just hope Ripley is fine…" Freya murmured as they slipped inside the house, unaware that from the far end of the street, someone was secretly watching them.
In a narrow backstreet, Ripley leaned against a wall, her weight shifted onto her right leg. Blood stained her trousers, but her glare was sharp.
"Why aren't you shooting?" she demanded.
James, the SARS Vice Chief, stood firm. "I decided to capture you alive."
Ripley frowned."I won't be caught that easily."
"That's why I have this gun." He pulled the trigger—click. Empty.
His eyes narrowed as he checked his pockets, finding nothing. I had plenty of bullets… then how?
Ripley smiled knowingly.
"Back during the stampede, huh?" James muttered.
Ripley taunted. "You didn't even notice? What kind of Vice Chief are you?"
James tossed his gun aside, shrugged off his coat, and rolled up his sleeves. "You want it this way? Then come."
Ripley smirked but her thoughts betrayed her calm. This isn't fair. My leg is bleeding, and he's said to be the strongest Vice Chief—shooting, combat, driving, capturing, killing… he excels at everything. With that last bullet, he could've killed me.
James tilted his head, studying her face. "you're Ripley, right? That's your name."
Ripley said."I'm not surprised SARS knows my name. What surprises me is that you know my face."
James casually stated. "Someone talked about you with me long ago."
Ripley froze, who it could be?
James tilted his saying, "Then how about you surrender?"
"Like I would."
James smirked. "I know you hate SARS more than anything."
Ripley's eyes narrowed. "Then what?"
James countered. "I know why."
Her composure cracked for a moment. "Really? How do you know?"
"Because I know that person. That's why I know—"
She didn't let him finish. Bursting forward, Ripley aimed a fierce strike at his abdomen. James blocked it smoothly and jumped back.
Fast, he admitted in his head. I wasn't paying attention.
Ripley steadied her breath. Don't rush. Don't panic. Don't waver.
"What's wrong? Why aren't you attacking like before?" James asked as he shifted into stance—feet wide, one hand open, the other clenched.
Ripley studied him. What stance is that?
He closed in, jabbing lightly.
She dodged and countered with a kick aimed at his jaw, but his open hand caught her leg.
Her follow-up strike was blocked by his other hand. Before she could react, he slammed her toward the ground. Ripley flipped and landed back on her feet, teeth gritted.
James pressed forward, mixing strikes with perfect counterattacks.
"He's strong," Ripley thought desperately. "He's not just attacking—he's countering everything."
Forced into a defensive shell, she barely blocked until James slipped in an uppercut that cracked against her jaw.
The hit sent her reeling.
That was all he needed. Grabbing her, he slammed her face into his knee—her nose exploded in blood.
She swung a desperate hook. James dodged and chopped her neck. A sickening crack followed, pain shooting through her body. She screamed but charged forward anyway.
"Fucking amateur," James muttered.
He feinted a kick, then smashed her ribs with his other leg.
Her scream turned ragged. My ribs… broken.
He swept her injured leg, sending her off balance, then leapt in again. His knee struck her nose, and Ripley collapsed in a bloody heap.
"Game's over, Ripley." James said coldly.
"F-fuck you, SARS…" she rasped.
"You're stubborn," James admitted. "But I like that you hate SARS. I'll tell you a secret that i also hate SARS!"
"You hate SARS?" she asked through the pain.
He looked at her sharply. "I do hate it even more than you do."
A faint, bloody smile crossed her face. "I'm glad to hear that. Fine… I'll give myself in."
"Good decision."
Ripley staggered, then asked, "I can't stand. Mind giving me your shoulder?"
James let her lean on him. As they walked, his phone rang.
"Yeah, Chief. I captured one of the Shadows' members, yeah I'm—" He froze mid-sentence, pain flaring through his shoulder.
Ripley had stabbed him with a knife.
She pulled it free and drove it into his leg. James collapsed to one knee, clutching the bleeding wounds.
"That knife… my pocket," he hissed.
"First the bullets, now this. What are you, a pickpocket?"
"Call me whatever you want," Ripley sneered. I'll survive… even if I have to use dirty tricks.
"Why didn't you use it from the start? That knife you were hiding." she pressed.
"Because you were easy enough without it," James replied, smirking even through the blood loss.
SARS sirens grew louder, echoing in the distance.
"Go," James said.
Ripley stared at him. "Not trying to stop me? Reinforcements are coming."
James pressing his wounds. "No. I'll capture you myself. So begone… but we will meet again."
"Then next time," Ripley said as she limped into the alleys, "tell me your reason for hating SARS."
James watched her disappear, blood dripping steadily onto the pavement. Despite the pain, a smirk tugged at his lips. "I'm sorry that i beat her like that..." he muttered looking at the sky.
Ripley rushed up a steel ladder, dragging herself onto the roof of a house. She sat down heavily, her chest heaving with ragged breaths.
I'm not safe even here. SARS cars are everywhere. She thought.
Her hands trembled as she tore a strip from her t-shirt near the bellybutton and tied it tightly around her bleeding leg.
The pressure made her wince, but she forced herself through the pain.
She touched her nose, which was still gushing blood. That bastard… he hit me with direct knee strikes. My nose… my ribs… it's difficult to even move.
Leaning back, Ripley looked up at the sky. I can't die yet. Right... Aria…
A single tear slipped down her cheek.
She quickly wiped it with her sleeve, shaking her head. "Shit," she muttered aloud. "I had to call Freya."
With trembling fingers, she pulled out her phone and dialed.
Inside the empty, dust-covered sales house, Freya sat huddled in a corner while Adrian stood near the wall, arms folded. The silence was broken when Freya's phone rang.
"Adrian, it's Ripley!" she said, her voice urgent.
"Answer it," Adrian told her.
Freya pressed the phone to her ear. "Ripley, are you okay? …What? You got injured fighting James? All right, no need to rush." She quickly ended the call, her face pale.
Adrian stepped closer. "What did she say?"
Freya's words spilled out. "She got injured against James. Her leg is bleeding, but she managed to break free from him."
Adrian's brow furrowed. "What? Why did she fight him?"
"She said she had no choice."
"Where is she now?"
"She asked me to send our location. She's coming here."
The sound of sirens had faded outside, leaving an unsettling quiet. Adrian muttered, "The sirens stopped echoing… I wonder what happened back at the café."
Freya bit her lip, worry clouding her face. "I'm more worried about Ripley. She said she was bleeding badly, yet even in that condition she was asking if I was okay."
Adrian softened slightly. "I don't know much about Ripley, but I feel like she's a good person. Don't worry—I'll protect you."
Suddenly, a knock rattled the room's door.
Freya's face lit up. "She came early?"
She smiled and pushed herself to her feet.
Adrian extended his arm, stopping her. His eyes narrowed. "No. With an injured leg, she can't get here this fast."
Freya froze. "Then… you're saying it's not her? Then who—"
Before she could finish, the door slammed open.
A man stood in the frame, a gun gripped firmly in his hand. His sharp presence filled the room like a storm breaking through the walls,Xavier Storm!
Adrian's stomach clenched. W-who is this guy? SARS?
Freya's voice cracked with fear. "Adrian—he's the Vice Chief of the 3rd Division!"
Xavier's cold eyes fixed on Adrian. "Found you, Adrian bathan!"