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The sky bled red, an open wound across a world that no longer cared to heal. The air crackled with tension, every breath laced with soot and static. A place like this—where the line between flesh and machine blurred—left no room for weakness.
She didn't run. Running was for people who had somewhere to go. Instead, she stalked forward, a blade clenched in her fist and rage burning in her chest. Her lab coat, now torn and bloodied, clung to her frame like a ghost of what she once was.
Behind her, the drones were relentless. Their hum chased her like a predator, but she didn't falter. If she was going to die, she'd make them bleed for it.
The sound of shifting metal made her freeze. She spun, blade raised, only to see him—a silhouette against the chaos. He stood with his back to her, the faint glow of his core flickering in the dark like a heartbeat.
No, not a heartbeat. A taunt.
"Hey!" she barked, the word slicing through the air like her blade might.
He didn't turn.
"I'm talking to you, hybrid!"
Still nothing. He just stood there, unmoving, like she was beneath his notice.
Her lip curled, anger spiking. "What's wrong? Core glitching out?"
Slowly, he tilted his head, his voice low and edged with disdain. "Do you always talk this much before you die, or is today special?"
Her grip tightened on the blade.
"Big words for a tin can with a secondhand heart."
That did it. He turned, his glowing eyes locking onto hers. The smirk on his face was colder than the air between them. "Careful, scientist. You're scratching the surface of things you don't understand."
"I understand plenty," she shot back, taking a step closer. "Like how hybrids are just cowards hiding behind metal because they couldn't handle being human."
He laughed, a short, sharp sound that made her stomach twist.
"Funny. Coming from someone who built weapons like me."
Her jaw clenched, but she didn't answer.
The hum of drones grew louder, their searchlights cutting through the haze. Time was running out, and she hated that he knew it.
"You should run," he said, turning away again.
"Run?" she hissed, the word dripping with venom. "I'd rather fight you than run."
He stopped mid-step, glancing over his shoulder. "You couldn't even scratch me. But hey, if you're feeling suicidal, I'm happy to help."
She lunged. The blade slashed through the air, aimed for his exposed back. But he moved faster than she expected—spinning, catching her wrist in a grip that felt more like a vice.
"Pathetic," he muttered, wrenching the blade from her hand. It clattered to the ground. "You think this is a game? That you can beat hybrids with anger and scraps of steel?"
She struggled against his grip, snarling. "Let go."
"Or what?" He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a growl. "You'll cry about it?"
The drones' searchlights swept dangerously close now, their hum vibrating through the rubble. She glanced toward them, panic flickering in her eyes.
He released her abruptly, letting her stumble back. "You're lucky I'm not in the mood to watch you die today."
"You think I need your help?" she snapped, fire in her voice despite the tremor of fear she couldn't suppress.
"I think you're an idiot," he shot back, turning and walking into the shadows. "But you'll follow me anyway. Because if you don't, you're dead."
"I'd rather die than owe you anything."
He paused, looking over his shoulder with a smirk that cut sharper than any blade. "Then I hope you run faster than they shoot."
As the drones descended, she cursed under her breath and sprinted after him. Every instinct screamed at her to stop, to turn back, but survival won out.
He didn't wait for her. He didn't even look back. And as she followed him into the abyss, she couldn't shake the thought: this wasn't a partnership. This was the beginning of a war.
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