The low hum of the drone sliced through the city's chaos, more unsettling than the blaring horns or chatter of passersby.
His chest tightened as the hum of the drone grew louder. Why did fear crawl under his skin like a parasite?
He could feel it; deep within his consciousness, he didn't just want to escape—he had to.
But why? The emptiness in his mind mocked him, each step a desperate plea for answers he couldn't find.
Ethan didn't dare look up, his every instinct screaming at him to keep moving. He dove into a convenience store, forcing himself to walk casually, though his heart thundered like a war drum in his chest.
The fluorescent lights inside buzzed faintly, sterile and cold, a sharp contrast to the storm brewing in his mind.
He grabbed the nearest item—a bag of chips—and shuffled toward the counter. His fingers trembled as he handed over a crumpled, damp bill he'd found earlier, its scent of mildew sticking to his hands.
The cashier barely looked at him, his disinterest a blessing.
"Thanks," he muttered, sliding the change across the counter. Ethan nodded stiffly, his face locked in what he hoped resembled a casual smile, and headed for the door.
Back on the street, he scanned the skies, expecting the drone to reappear. But the buzzing was gone.
Relief flickered briefly in his chest, only to be replaced by dread. This would have filled him with joy, but somehow, it brought more dread.
He quickened his pace and slipped into a nearby park, but whether it was from his disorientation or something else, his foot caught on a root, and he fell face first.
However, his body reacted before he could think, twisting midfall and landing in a crouch with a precision that startled even him.
He stared at his hands, the faint tremor of adrenaline masking the eerie sense of control. However, not having time for reminancing, he continued on.
The dense canopy of trees above offered cover, the dim light casting long shadows that swallowed him whole.
He crouched behind a bench, his breaths shallow, his ears straining for any sound. The faint buzz of distant drones still lingered, but for now, the park seemed to shield him.
Think. Think.
His mind clawed at the images that had haunted him since waking. Blood, screams, chaos, and then—bright laughter.
It was sharper now, almost tangible, but it refused to align into a coherent memory. His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms as he tried to will the pieces into place. Still, nothing came.
But then a pair of officers strode near the park entrance at this moment, their flashlights cutting through the dusk.
Ethan froze, his body pressed against the bench as if willing himself to be invisible. Their radios crackled with static, one officer murmuring, "No sign yet. Expanding search perimeter."
Their footsteps faded as they moved on, but Ethan's heart kept pounding. Staying put was no longer an option.
He had to move, but where? He had no home to run to, no one to turn to—just a nameless, faceless existence chasing him like a shadow.
He rose cautiously, keeping to the shadows as he slipped toward the park's edge. Every rustle of leaves and every flicker of movement set his nerves on edge. He felt like prey, hunted in a city where every corner hid a trap.
Through the trees, he spotted the distant glow of a train station. A desperate plan began to take shape.
If he could board a train and put distance between himself and the search, he might stand a chance. He didn't know where the train would take him, but anywhere was better than here.
Ethan blended into the flow of commuters, keeping his head down, his movements careful and deliberate.
The crowd bustled around him, indifferent, their faces blurred by his panic. He was a ghost among the living, unseen yet hunted.
He envied their normalcy, their ignorance of what it meant to be stripped of an identity. No one turned their head, and no one would care if he disappeared.
The city pulsed with life around him, its rhythm matching the pounding in his chest. He could feel the weight of eyes—unseen but omnipresent—pressing down on him.
Then he heard it: the soft hum of a drone. His stomach twisted. It wasn't distant anymore. It was right above him.
Acting fast, he veered into a narrow alley that reeked of damp trash and mildew; the rain had turned the ground into a slick, uneven mess.
He was hoping to lose it, but the hum grew louder and deeper, like a predator locking onto its prey.
And as if that wasn't enough, a second drone rounded the corner, its spotlight cutting through the dimness and pinning him in its glare.
From behind, the faint sound of boots on wet pavement reached his ears. His heart raced as he pressed against the wall, the cold brick seeping through his shirt.
Right now he knew. He was trapped.
............
Back at the bank's security room, the lead officer stared at the footage, his expression dark.
"Control," he said into his radio, his voice tight, "this one's evasive. If he's unidentified, it's not a mistake. Someone erased him. This is deliberate."
"Understood, Delta-4," came the reply. "Drone units tracking. Stand by for containment orders."
The officer's jaw tightened. He could feel it—this wasn't just another fugitive. It was something bigger. One of the units crackled over the radio, reporting a visual.
"Control, subject sighted near the train station. Escaping into an alley. Confirming—" The officer's voice faltered. "Subject shows inhuman agility. Not a normal civilian. Likely enhanced."
The lead officer's eyes narrowed. Enhanced. That single word changed everything.
"All units," he barked into the radio, his voice firm, "converge on Unit 7's location. Surround the perimeter. Incapacitate the subject on sight, but keep him alive. Repeat: alive."
He then turned the channel to speak with the control.
"Control, the subject isn't just unidentified," the officer muttered into his radio, his voice tense.
"He's enhanced. Whoever erased him wanted more than to hide his identity—they wanted him forgotten. If we lose him, we might not get another chance." His grip tightened on his sidearm.
"No mistakes."
.........
Ethan's every muscle screamed as he scanned the alley for a way out. The drones hovered above, their lights casting harsh, unrelenting beams.
The boots behind him grew louder and closer. He clenched his fists, his instincts taking over. He couldn't remember who he was, but his body seemed to know exactly what to do.
The walls of the alley seemed to close in, the air thick with the stench of rot and oil. Ethan's breaths came in shallow gasps as the drone's spotlight sliced through the shadows.
His body tensed, his instincts urging him to run, but there was nowhere to go—nowhere but up.
Looking up, there seemed to be a fire escape right above him on the sky scrapper that he was on, though it seemed a bit high for him to reach.
But with a sudden burst of energy, he leapt for the fire escape above him, his movements swift, almost mechanical.
Ethan's grip on the fire escape tightened, his muscles straining but holding firm.
The ease with which he pulled himself up surprised him, as if his body knew how to move before his mind could comprehend.
His limbs didn't ache like they should have, and he was climbing faster than he thought possible. What else was hidden inside him?
The drones adjusted, their lights snapping to follow him.
From below, the officers shouted, their radios crackling with updates. "Subject ascending east side! Requesting air unit assistance!"
Ethan didn't stop. He didn't think. He jumped from one ramp to another and then reached the rooftop in record time, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he sprinted toward the edge.
Behind him, the drones closed in, their hums now deafening. His feet slammed against the rooftop, the city sprawling out before him in a dizzying blur of light and shadow.
The rooftop loomed ahead, and Ethan launched himself over the edge, his body moving instinctively.
Behind him, the drones hesitated, their spotlights slicing through the rain like blades.
The officers skidded to a halt below, their radios crackling. "Delta-4, he's jumped. No visual. Prepare secondary units."