Neon Remnant

Sol moved carefully through the tunnel, his entire body screaming in protest. The dim emergency lights flickered weakly, casting long, ghostly shadows against the corroded walls. His limbs felt sluggish, every step sending sharp jolts of pain through his battered muscles. The wounds from the previous fight throbbed, and the deep bruises along his ribs made breathing a careful effort. But he forced himself forward, teeth clenched. Pain meant he was still alive. He had no time to rest. His body ached from maneuvering through the cramped spaces, but he was close—so close. The exit was just ahead, concealed beneath layers of debris and rusted pipes.

The world outside was alive with danger. Even through the thick layers of earth and metal above, he could still hear them. The rhythmic clanking of mechs echoed in the cold night air, their heavy limbs crushing debris underfoot. The mechanical whir of surveillance drones sliced through the quiet, their scanning lights sweeping across the junkyard. The yells of soldiers barking orders cut through the eerie silence between movements, their voices growing distant, then near again, like a relentless tide. The rhythmic clanking of mechs patrolling, the soft whir of surveillance drones sweeping the area, and the heavy boots of DreamCorp soldiers marching in careful, methodical steps. Every sound reminded him that one mistake could mean capture—or worse.

Sol pressed his back against the cold metal wall, forcing himself to slow his breathing. He needed to be patient. He shut his eyes, blocking out everything but the sound of movement above him. The ACE System quietly ran its calculations, but Sol didn't need it for this. He had already mapped out the timing of their patrols earlier. Now, all he had to do was wait.

*Five… Four… Three…*

The pattern was there—the small window of time where the patrols adjusted their routes, leaving a temporary blind spot. He opened his eyes and exhaled softly. *Now.*

He issued a silent command, and his spiders skittered forward. The tiny machines split up, scuttling toward predesignated locations to plant the flash grenades. Sol reached into his bag, fingers brushing over the scrambler. His heartbeat quickened. His margin for error was razor-thin, and there were no second chances.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself before muttering, "Wish me luck, ACE."

The moment his thumb pressed the scrambler's activation switch, a pulse of static rippled outward, disrupting communications in a small radius. The effect was subtle—just enough to cause minor signal interference without alerting them outright. A few seconds later, the flash grenades detonated in the distance, bathing the ruins in bursts of blinding light and concussive noise.

Shouts filled the air above him. DreamCorp's forces immediately reacted, redirecting their squads toward the disturbance. The moment their attention shifted, Sol moved.

He pushed open the small rusted grate covering his exit and pulled himself up from the hidden compartment in the floor, his movements swift but silent. He kept low, dashing through the maze of broken-down vehicles and debris littering the area. His eyes flicked back and forth, scanning for any unexpected obstacles. *Almost there…*

Just as relief started to settle in, his stomach clenched painfully. A sharp chill ran down his spine, not from the cold air, but from the unmistakable hum of an approaching drone.

A drone was still in the area.

The drone moved with unsettling precision, its sleek black frame gliding through the wreckage like a predator sniffing out prey. Its red scanning light pulsed rhythmically, illuminating the ruined landscape in eerie flashes. Sol could hear the faint whir of its scanning mechanisms, the charged hum of its energy reserves preparing to activate its alarms at the slightest detection. It didn't just hover—it prowled, creeping closer, scanning every crevice, every shadow, every potential hiding place. Sol's breath hitched as he immediately dropped to the side, barely avoiding its sweeping scan. He landed hard behind a toppled refrigerator, the impact sending a jolt of pain through his battered ribs. He clenched his jaw, sucking in a sharp breath as he pressed himself against the cold metal, his heart slamming against his chest like a war drum. The drone's hum grew louder, the glow of its red sensor casting a faint light along the edges of his hiding spot. He could see the dust shifting under the fridge as the drone drifted closer, scanning. One wrong move, one miscalculated breath, and it would find him.

*Shit.*

The drone's scanner pulsed faintly, its sensors sweeping the area once more. If it detected him, the troops would be on him within seconds. He clenched his jaw, mind racing for a solution. The DreamCorp soldiers would realize soon enough that the explosion was a distraction, and when they did, they'd be right back on top of him.

He had to think of something fast. The frigid night air seeped through the gaps in his tattered jacket, his breath visible in faint wisps. Above him, the stars shimmered against the vast darkness, burning bright and distant—unreachable. Yet, even trapped beneath the weight of the world hunting him, they gave him something. A reason. A reminder. He wasn't meant to die here. He was meant to see them up close. He was meant to be free. His fingers twitched toward his bag, mind racing. He had one chance.