A skinny boy walked along the crowded streets of Manhattan, head low, shoulders hunched against the early evening chill. Yellow taxis honked impatiently, their headlights cutting through the gray light, while the distant rumble of the subway vibrated beneath the pavement. The boy looked about ten, clothes ragged, shoes scuffed, raven hair falling across his face, hiding the sharp amber of his eyes. Steam rose from a nearby manhole, mingling with the scent of roasted nuts and hot dogs from a street cart.
Thump.
"Watch it, brat!"
"Sorry." I murmured, voice flat, as I passed a businessman juggling a coffee and a phone. I didn't flinch, didn't stammer. It wasn't fear, it never was. I simply didn't want anyone to remember me. Every day I walked the city like a ghost, taking and leaving nothing behind.
A smirk tugged at my lips as my fingers closed around a wallet tucked into a man's coat. Another rich fool, oblivious, arrogant. I slipped the wallet into my own jacket. My pride flickered quietly at the ease of it. Pickpocketing was survival, yes, but I had principles. I stole from the greedy, the pompous, never from the meek or kind.
Three years had passed since the orphanage kicked me out. I was eight when the roof over my head vanished, eight when the walls that were supposed to protect me instead pushed me out. I had learned to live like this, to rely only on my wits and speed, to take what I needed and vanish before anyone noticed.
"Heh, not bad," I muttered, counting the coins in my palm. Enough to survive, maybe a few days. But survival wasn't enough. I wanted more.
I scanned the street, eyes flicking from passerby to passerby, searching for the next target. That's when I saw him.
Tall, lean, dressed in something that looked like a cross between an ancient cloak and modern luxury, walking as if the city itself were beneath him. A long staff-like cane tapped against the pavement, keeping rhythm with each step. His eyes were sharp, grey, scanning the world with disgust. Perfect.
"I guess I hit a jackpot." I said to myself. He'd be easy. Or so I thought.
I approached, calculating, careful not to touch, to misstep, to alert him. Timing my movements, reading his pace, I waited for the right moment to snatch the pouch at his side.
I reached, fingers brushing the edge of his coat and that's when it happened.
A low growl, almost under my skin. I froze. Something was… off.
A shiver crawled down my spine. Movement behind him, too fast, too unnatural. Shadows stretched along the graffiti-covered walls, twisting, bending in ways that made my stomach churn. Figures appeared, low to the ground, humanoid in shape but distorted, faces hidden beneath fur, claws glinting under the glow of a flickering streetlight. Eyes gleaming unnaturally yellow.
Monsters. That's all I knew. Monstrous. Wrong.
I froze. The man hadn't noticed. Perhaps he didn't care. My pouch grew hot in my hand, humming with a strange energy. Reflexively, I tossed it aside. Too late.
A wiry creature lunged from behind, claws aimed at my neck. I rolled, scraping my cheek against the gritty concrete. Pain flared, sharp, hot, but I ignored it. Adrenaline took over.
"You're small… weak," it hissed, voice a mix of snarl and laughter. "Pathetic. Easy prey. This'll be fun."
I didn't respond. My hands balled into fists. Amber eyes narrowed. The city around me disappeared. Only them. Only survival.
They moved as a pack, circling, shifting. I ducked behind a trash bin, every nerve in my body screaming, every instinct on high alert. My heart pounded, but fear had no place here. This was survival, life or death.
They thought I was weak. I would prove them wrong.
The first one leapt. I sidestepped, grabbed a loose pipe lying near a spilled trash bag, swung. It connected with a sickening crack. A yelp. One down, maybe stunned, maybe enraged. I didn't wait to check.
Another came at me, faster. I rolled under its swipe, grabbed its ankle, and twisted. Bone cracked. It shrieked, flailed. My arms burned from the force, but I kept my hold, pushing it against a wall plastered with peeling posters, finally letting it go.
"You fight like a cornered rat," it spat. "I like that. I like that a lot."
I ignored it, scanning. They were clever. Too clever. They knew how to herd, how to divide. I needed space, needed leverage.
I ran, weaving through narrow alleys between brick buildings, dodging overflowing dumpsters and fire escapes. A lamppost became a pivot. A trash bin became a shield. I didn't know I was doing more than humanly possible. My limbs moved with a speed, precision I hadn't consciously trained. Reflexes like water, instinct like fire.
A flare of energy ran through me as a claw grazed my shoulder. Pain exploded, but then a subtle sensation like the world slowed for me, a minor shift in perception. Nothing strong, barely noticeable. I stumbled, almost fell, and realized my heartbeat was synchronized with their movements. I could anticipate, just a fraction, where they'd strike next.
I didn't understand it, didn't think about it. There wasn't time. I could feel it, though. Something inside, hidden, flickering like a dying ember, igniting just enough to keep me alive.
They laughed, mockery in their voice. "Oh, you're clever, brat. Clever enough to survive… for now. But oh, the fun we'll have when you tire."
I didn't tire. I didn't flinch. The fear was there, buried under layers of calculation and cold detachment. It was a voice I'd trained myself to hear. Don't feel, don't hesitate, act.
One swung from above a creature with long, whip-like arms. I jumped, barely clearing its strike, landing in a crouch on the damp alley floor. Pain screamed in my ankles, knees, but I forced it into numbness. My mind darted, plotting. If I could make them underestimate me…
A flash of heat ran across my hands. I grabbed a metal grate leaning against a brick wall, yanked it up. Clanging steel echoed off the alley walls, startling them, slowing one. I kicked, swung, rolled. Every movement precise, brutal, survival distilled into action.
"Not bad," one hissed, blood trickling from a gash I'd given it. "Not bad at all. But now…"
It came at me together with another. I staggered back, blocking, rolling, biting, kicking, throwing everything I had. My body screamed, muscles burning, joints threatening to give way. Pain was a constant companion, but I ignored it. Ignored everything but the need to live.
I felt a surge inside me, faint but undeniable. My vision sharpened, reaction time fractionally faster. I didn't know how, didn't understand why, but I could sense their intent a heartbeat before they moved. A spark I didn't yet understand. I'd never felt it before, and I had no name for it. I'd use everything to survive.
"Running out of tricks, brat?" one taunted, eyes gleaming with delight. "Soon, you'll be just another meal. You'll scream, and it will be delicious."
I laughed. A hollow, cold sound, detached. "You think I'm prey?" My voice was soft, but it carried. "Try me."
The pack snarled, advancing. I counted steps, estimated distance, waited for the perfect moment.
One creature lunged. I sidestepped, grabbed a brick lying near a steaming manhole, swung. It connected with a sickening thud. Another charged. I ducked, shoved it into the first. They tumbled, shrieking, clawing, biting. I rolled away, ignoring the sting of scratches across my face.
They regrouped. Faster, smarter now. Predicting, baiting, taunting. "Oh, clever boy… a clever little brat…"
I bit back the urge to curse. My amber eyes glinted in the dim glow of neon signs. Strategy became instinct. A flick of movement, a shift in weight, a throw of debris. One down, two down. They underestimated me, thinking me a fragile kid. They didn't know how long I'd survived, how deeply I'd buried fear and emotion.
I was nothing. That was my strength.
They lunged again. I ducked, rolled, and felt a faint shimmer ripple through my hands as I grabbed a scrap of metal from the alley floor. Not much, just enough to disrupt their attack. A subtle pulse ran through me, not enough to stop them, but enough to keep me alive.
"You can't escape," one snarled, claws raking the wall next to my head. "You'll bleed brat! You'll cry…Blame your heritage."
I didn't. I never cried. I never begged. Pain was constant, a dull throb, a sharp slice, a burning flare. Rage was constant, too. Fury at the world, at everything that had abandoned me, at everything that had ever tried to dominate me.
I fought like a cornered wolf. Every kick, punch, throw, dodge calculated. Every movement precise, economical, brutal. I wasn't strong. Not yet. Not invincible. But I was clever. I was fast. And I was utterly, coldly determined.
A creature lunged from the side. I grabbed its arm, twisted. Heard a satisfying crack. It shrieked, stumbling, clawing at me. I rolled, kicked, and ran. Not fast enough, not yet, but I ran.
Behind me, the pack howled, laughed, snarled. "Run, brat! Run! Make it fun for us!"
I didn't answer. Words wasted breath. Every thought was focused, every muscle strained, every fiber of me dedicated to survival. Pain and fear and rage intertwined, feeding the small spark inside me that refused to die.
The alley narrowed. I glanced, calculating escape. I could use the environment, twist the fight, turn it into a trap. They expected brute force, and I gave them a street fight. I shifted barrels, kicked debris, feinted, rolled, struck, ducked.
A claw tore my jacket. Another slashed my arm. I ignored it. Pain was secondary. Survival came first.
Then I saw it, a narrow gap between two brick walls. Could I make it?
I ran. They lunged. I squeezed, scraping against walls, limbs twisting. Pain flared. One of them yelped as it got stuck briefly. I pushed forward.
Suddenly, the city around me blurred. All I felt was focus, fury, survival instinct. My amber eyes flared, a faint glow, just enough to sense their moves before they struck. I felt something awakening inside me.
I made it.
Breathing hard, body screaming, bleeding in places, I turned. They watched, claws flexing, teeth bared, but I could sense fear flickered in their eyes. Not towards me, but something inside me.
I wiped blood from my face, voice low, almost a whisper. "This… isn't over."
They hissed, vanished into shadows.