Dylan kept his hood low, shoulders relaxed, walking like he belonged. Confidence was key—the moment you looked nervous, the streets ate you alive.
The train station was just ahead, neon lights flickering against the smog-drenched sky. He gripped the transit pass nervously. The East Helion Transit Hub was the fastest way to get out of this district.
Except, to reach the station without attracting attention, he had to cut through the old factory ruins. It was either that or risk the main road, where security drones scanned faces every thirty seconds. Not happening. He also needed a place to easily throw the person following him off
The factory was a rusted-out carcass of a bygone era, its steel skeleton groaning in the cold night air. A perfect place to disappear. He jumped through a gap in the fence, his boots crunching against shattered glass. His fingers tightened around the transit pass in his pocket again. Almost there.
Then—a faint hum.
Dylan stopped.
The air smelled like burning metal. Too late.
A voice echoed from the shadows.
"Took you long enough."
Dylan didn't have enough time to react before a massive figure stepped into the dim light.
Grex.
The cybernetic bounty hunter smirked, rolling his metal shoulders. One red cyber-eye glowed evilly in the dark.
"You really thought you could just walk away?"
Dylan was regretful just one failed mission and the ill famed Grex was after him. His luck was really bad ah!
Six Hours Ago.
It was supposed to be clean as usual. A quick job. In and out.
Dylan had been watching Erik Dain, a close friend of the District Master for weeks—a fat corporate leech from the Helion Trade Syndicate who liked to show off in the high-end districts. Every Thursday, he spent the night at The Gilded Fang, wasting overpriced drinks, too bloated with wealth to notice a street rat like Dylan.
The plan? Clone his account key, drain a fraction of his fortune, and vanish.
Dylan had everything ready—stolen jacket, fake ID, and just enough arrogance to walk past security. Inside, the bar pulsed with neon and bass-heavy music. The air smelled of expensive liquor and synthetic perfumes.
Dain sat at his usual spot, laughing like he owned the planet.
Perfect.
Dylan moved in.
Step one: Distraction.
He stumbled into Dain, knocking over a crystal glass filled with some golden liquor.
"Shit, my bad," Dylan muttered, grabbing a napkin.
Dain grumbled but waved it off, too drunk to care.
Step two: The lift.
As Dylan "helped" him clean up, he pressed a credit chip cloner against Dain's pocket.
Ping. Transfer complete.
Step three: Walk away.
Then Dain's laughter stopped.
Dylan felt it before he saw it—the shift in the air.
Dain's cybernetic eyes flashed red.
"You just made the worst mistake of your life."
Dylan moved—too late.
A metal hand clamped onto his wrist.
Instinct kicked in. He jabbed a shock baton into Dain's ribs. Electricity ran through the man—he convulsed, screaming.
Dylan ran.
By the time he reached the lower districts, bounty boards were already flashing his face.
500,000 creds. Dead or alive.
Present.
Dylan exhaled slowly. This wasn't the first time he'd been caught. He scanned the room, looking for an out. He just needed one opening.
Grex cracked his knuckles, the sound like metal grinding against metal. "Raze wants you alive. Makes my job easier. But… if you make this hard, I won't mind breaking a few bones first."
Dylan smirked. "Only a few? C'mon, I thought you were supposed to be scary."
Grex's grin sharpened. "Brave. Stupid, but brave."
Dylan moved first.
He kicked over an old fuel canister. It clattered toward the wall, knocking loose a stack of rusted crates. Grex's attention flicked to the noise—just for a second.
Dylan bolted.
Grex lunged, cybernetic limbs moving too fast, too strong. Dylan barely ducked in time, rolling under an old assembly line. His heartbeat pounded in his ears.
Think. Fast.
A sparking power cable hung from the ceiling, swaying slightly. Bingo.
Dylan grabbed a loose pipe from the ground and swung it into the cable. The sparks ignited the fumes from the fuel canister.
BOOM.
The explosion rocked the factory, sending flames licking up the walls. Grex stumbled back, caught off guard, his cybernetic systems glitching from the sudden shockwave.
Dylan didn't hesitate.
He sprinted toward the exit.
---
The Hunted
The factory fire cast a sickly orange glow against the night sky, but Dylan was already gone, slipping into the crowded streets near the train station.
He slowed his pace, forcing himself to breathe evenly. Blend in. Look normal.
Then he saw it.
A massive holographic billboard towering over the street.
His own face stared back at him, flickering in electric blue.
WANTED
DYLAN ASHEN
500,000 CRED REWARD – DEAD OR ALIVE
Dylan's stomach twisted.
The bounty had just quadrupled.
A group of thugs loitering near a noodle stand stared up at the billboard, then back at Dylan.
One of them frowned. "Wait a sec… Ain't that—"
Dylan grabbed a loose steel pipe from the ground and swung it straight into the display.
The screen shattered in a burst of static and sparks.
"Oops," he muttered.
Then he ran.
The entire city wasn't safe anymore. He needed to disappear underground. And he knew the exact man for that.