Neon Remnant

Sol's breath was slow and controlled, his body tense as he kept his eyes locked on the drone hovering just beyond his cover. The hum of its engine buzzed low in the air, its red scanner casting a slow-moving glow over the rubble. He could hear the faint chatter of DreamCorp soldiers in the distance, their boots crunching against shattered debris as they continued their sweep. If the drone detected him now, he wouldn't have the time to escape before they were on him.

He sent a silent recall command to one of the spiders he had previously dispatched to plant the grenades. It took only a few seconds for the bot to detach from its assigned position and skitter back toward him, navigating through the debris with precision. His mind worked through the calculations rapidly—placement, movement, timing. The ACE System fed him data in real time, tracking the drone's scan intervals, the motion sensitivity of its sensors, and the estimated reaction time of the nearby troops.

*Three seconds. That's all I'll get.*

Sol's fingers twitched as he sent a silent command to the spider, directing it toward a pile of collapsed metal beams a few meters away. The small bot skittered along the rubble, its tiny limbs moving soundlessly. Just as the drone's scanner pulsed away from his hiding spot, Sol's spider reached its target.

With a sharp clatter, the bot knocked a loose metal panel down the side of the wreckage, sending it tumbling with a hollow clang. The drone immediately shifted its focus, its scanner flickering toward the disturbance. Sol wasted no time—he pulled the scrambler from his belt, activating it with a precise flick of his wrist.

A pulse of static rippled through the air, brief and contained, just enough to momentarily distort the drone's systems without drawing suspicion. Its red optics flickered as its scanning pattern glitched for half a second, and that was all Sol needed.

*Go.*

He moved, his body screaming in protest, every muscle burning from strain. His ribs throbbed with each hurried breath, a sharp stabbing pain radiating through his side. His legs felt heavy, sluggish from exhaustion and injury, but he forced them to move. Keeping low, he darted from behind the refrigerator and bolted across the open space. His heart pounded in his chest, but his movements were smooth, controlled. He could still hear the drone's whirring, but it remained focused on the spider's disturbance. For now.

The entrance to the sewers was only a few meters away, concealed beneath a rusted maintenance hatch just beyond the ruins of a collapsed storage facility. If he could reach it before the drone's systems recalibrated, he had a real chance of disappearing completely.

The ACE System fed him constant updates, marking patrol routes, adjusting for any sudden movement. He saw a squad of DreamCorp soldiers shift their path slightly in response to the drone's delay, but they hadn't noticed him yet. He was still in the clear.

He reached the hatch, fingers hooking beneath its rusted handle, but as he pulled, it refused to budge. Panic surged through him, his breath catching as he yanked harder. The metal was corroded, rusted shut from years of neglect. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, his wounded body screaming for relief. He gritted his teeth and gave it another pull, his arms trembling under the strain. The hatch groaned, then suddenly jerked open, sending a rush of stale air up from below. His arms strained against the weight, the metal groaning as he wrenched it open just enough to slip inside. He sucked in a breath and dropped down into the darkness, pulling the hatch shut above him just as he heard the drone's scanner re-engage.

For a moment, silence. Then, his breath shuddered as the weight of everything settled on him. His teacher was gone. The world he had known had burned behind him, and now he was crawling through the filth just to see another day. His chest heaved as a sob tried to escape, but he clenched his jaw, forcing it down. The pain in his ribs was nothing compared to the ache clawing at his heart.

Tears blurred his vision as he curled his arms around himself, his whole body trembling. He was just a kid. He wasn't supposed to be here, alone, wounded, suffocating under the weight of loss and exhaustion. His fingers dug into the cold stone, gripping it like an anchor as his breaths came in short, shallow bursts. He wanted it to stop—the pain, the running, the fear. Just for a moment, he wanted to let go.

But he couldn't. He knew that. His teacher hadn't given up on him, and he wouldn't let his sacrifice be for nothing. Even in this putrid darkness, something stirred inside him. A refusal to let it end here. His fingers brushed against the cold metal of the ACE System embedded at the base of his skull, grounding him. His breath was still shaky, but he forced himself to inhale, long and slow. He had come too far to stop now.

Then the distant sound of movement above. The drone had returned to its normal patrol pattern. The soldiers were still searching.

Sol remained crouched in the damp tunnel, his breathing ragged, the pain now settling in full force. The air was thick with the stench of stagnant water and rotting debris, the damp walls slick with moisture. Every inhale tasted like decay, making his stomach churn. Rats skittered along the edges of the tunnel, their beady eyes flickering in the faint glow from above. The darkness was suffocating, pressing in on him, but down here, at least, he wasn't being hunted.

He clenched his fists, pressing them against the rough stone, grounding himself. He had made it. He was alive. But barely. His entire body ached, his mind screamed for rest, but he wiped the dampness from his eyes and exhaled. He couldn't stop now. Not yet. Not until he was free.