The Chase

The veteran leapt out of the shattered window in pursuit of Zane, his heavy boots slamming onto the pavement. Just as he steadied himself to charge after his target, Zane appeared from the side, shoving him into a large trash bag. In a flash, Zane twisted the bag’s opening shut, leaving the veteran struggling inside.

“Stay there!” Zane shouted as he bolted down the street, panting.

From within the bag, muffled curses grew louder until, with a burst of mechanical strength, the veteran tore through the plastic, trash scattering everywhere. His robotic arm glinted under the streetlights as he rose, seething with frustration.

“Alright,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Enough games.”

A neighbour, watching from their window above, squinted at the chaos below. Their eyes widened as they saw the hulking figure, mechanical arm raised menacingly, chase after a young man sprinting for his life. Fumbling with their phone, they dialled the police, muttering, “This neighbourhood’s gone to hell.”

Zane darted through the streets, weaving between alleys and cutting through empty lots. His chest burnt, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. Every time he thought he’d lost the veteran, the sound of pounding footsteps—or worse, the mechanical whirring of the man’s robotic arm—echoed behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder, only to see the veteran emerge from the shadows once more, relentless as ever.

“Seriously?” Zane wheezed. “Do you even have lungs?”

Ahead, the city began to thin out, the glow of streetlights giving way to darker, emptier roads. Zane pushed himself harder, but his legs felt like lead. Finally, just as the outskirts of a junkyard came into view, his body gave out. He collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, sweat pouring down his face.

The veteran appeared moments later, calm and composed. His mechanical arm flexed, the metal fingers curling into a fist. “You’ve got spirit, kid,” he said, his voice tinged with grudging admiration. “Too bad it’s not enough.”

Zane rolled onto his back, raising a trembling hand. “You’ve got a robotic arm, man. That’s so cool. Too bad you’re, you know, the bad guy.”

The veteran didn’t respond, but his grim smirk said enough. He raised his mechanical arm high, ready to strike. Zane rolled out of the way just in time, the ground where he had been lying cracking under the impact.

Zane scrambled to his feet, his voice still shaky but defiant. “Not cool, dude. Do you know how expensive pavement repairs are?”

They clashed again, Zane dodging and countering as best as he could, his lightning flickering weakly. But the veteran’s experience and brute strength overwhelmed him. Before long, Zane was on his knees, his energy spent.

The veteran stood over him, reaching into his coat to pull out a small, curved blade. He tossed it onto the ground in front of Zane.

“You fought well, boy,” he said gruffly. “But this is the end. At least go out with dignity. Take the blade, and finish it like a true warrior.”

Zane looked at the blade, then back at the veteran. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

The veteran sighed, drawing a long, gleaming sword from his back. The moonlight caught its edge, illuminating the cold steel.

“Have it your way,” he said, raising the blade high.

Just as the sword came down, Zane’s eyes lit up with realisation. He grabbed the small blade and deflected the strike with a desperate burst of strength, the clash of metal ringing through the empty night.

“Not today!” Zane shouted, charging himself with lightning once more. The dark energy surged around him as he dashed away from the veteran.

But in his haste, Zane failed to notice the junkyard ahead. He collided head-on with a stack of rusted metal, the impact sending him sprawling to the ground. The world around him dimmed as consciousness slipped away.

The veteran stopped, watching Zane’s trajectory as he disappeared into the junkyard. He shook his head, muttering, “This little one causes me so much trouble.”

Inside the junkyard, a faint light flickered in the window of a rundown house at its centre. A woman with long blonde hair stepped out, her eyes narrowing as she spotted Zane’s unconscious body sprawled in the dirt.

“What happened to you?” she murmured, her voice soft with concern. She knelt beside him, brushing the dirt from his face, her brow furrowed as she studied his battered form.

The night was quiet again, save for the faint hum of electricity still lingering around Zane.