The Hunt and the escape

The Hunt & the Escape

Lara wove through the crowded bazaar, her sharp eyes scanning the stalls for something special. The marketplace was alive with movement—merchants calling out their wares, the scent of roasted spices drifting from food carts, the metallic clink of coin exchanged in hurried hands. Travelers from distant cities bartered for weapons, fine cloth, and relics of forgotten craftsmanship, but Lara had only one person in mind.

Xelric.

He was starting a new life—one without her.

The thought was bittersweet, sitting heavy in her chest, but she wouldn’t let it weigh her down. New beginnings were sacred to her people. A belief she should have abandoned, like the people themselves. They were all gone anyway.

She wouldn’t think about them. They didn’t matter.

Too kind.

Too weak.

And they had given her Nuada’s Compass.

She hadn’t believed in it, not really—not until she met Xelric. The stupid thing was supposed to point you toward allies, toward those who would protect you. It had led her parents to sell her into slavery instead.

So much for fate.

The things she’d seen with the smugglers… the things she’d done to survive—if Xelric knew, truly knew, he’d never want to know her better. No stupid compass was going to change that.

So she was here for a lockpick.

Lara: Won’t be there to open doors for you, Xel. This is the best I can do.

For the only person this cursed thing had ever led her to—the only one worth a damn.

Lara stepped into the locksmith’s shop, the scent of oil and metal thick in the air.

A sinking feeling settled in her gut. She was being followed.

She didn’t look back. Didn’t let it show.

Lara: (casual, but direct) “That one—does it integrate with Volundr crafting tools?”

The shopkeeper barely glanced up, his fingers still working over a half-dismantled mechanism.

Shopkeeper: (gruff) “Depends. What kinda tool are you upgrading?”

Lara: (nonchalant) “A gauntlet.”

That got his attention.

Shopkeeper: (raising an eyebrow) “Ah. Older model?”

Lara: (shrugging) “Multi-tool upgrade.”

Shopkeeper: (nods, tapping a small case on the counter) “Then you’ll want this. Just came in—high-grade lockpick, decryption interface, plus a hardened barrier overload.” (pauses, then adds) “Forty-five-minute delay between uses, though. Can’t have people abusing it.”

Lara rolled the device between her fingers, feeling the weight of it.

Exactly what she needed.

Lara: (muttering) “Perfect. But I bet it’s gonna cost an arm and a leg.”

The shopkeeper smirked.

Shopkeeper: “Or just the right connections.”

Lara: I’ll take it.

Lara stepped out of the shop, tucking the lockpick into her coat. The city lights flickered against the rain-slick streets, but something in the air felt off. Too quiet.

Then—impact.

A wiry man in a black suit brushed into her hard, almost deliberate.

Lara: (sharply) “Hey—watch it, jerk.”

He didn’t even look at her. Didn’t need to.

Because two heavily armored mercs stepped around the corner, cutting off her exit.

She tensed.

The man in the suit smirked, finally turning to face her. He was too calm—the kind of man who already knew the outcome before the game even started.

Bounty Hunter: (mocking) “Lara, right? Or is it Seline? Because this holo—” (flashes a glowing display, her face glaring back at her) ”—looks an awful lot like you.”

Merc 1: (grinning, adjusting his grip on his weapon) “Yeah, and word is you and some kid roughed up a few gang boys. Even burned one alive.”

Lara’s jaw clenched. That had been self-defense.

Not that these bastards cared.

Bounty Hunter: (amused, tilting his head) “Sloppy work. Not like you to leave a trail.” (pauses, letting the weight of his words sink in) “The bounty on you is decent. Whatever the gangs pay us for your Volundr friend?” (smirks wider) “That’s just a bonus.”

Lara’s pulse spiked.

Lara: (low, dangerous) “Leave him out of this.”

The bounty hunter sighed, tapping a finger against his temple like he was thinking it over.

Bounty Hunter: (mock sympathy) “Wish I could, sweetheart. But you know how it is.” (his smile vanishes) “A job’s a job.”

She had to be fast.

Lara didn’t recognize the bounty hunter, but she didn’t need to—he wasn’t just some street thug. His stance was too measured, his eyes too calm.

That meant one thing: he knew what he was doing.

So she waited. Let them make the first move.

Bounty Hunter: (flat, impatient) “Take her.”

Merc 1 lunged, grabbing her from behind, locking down her arms.

Perfect.

Lara launched her lower body upward, twisting in his grip—and drove both heels into the second merc’s chin.

CRACK.

His helmet snapped back, body going limp before he even hit the ground.

One down.

Before the first merc could react, Lara wrenched herself sideways, throwing her weight into his knee—a sharp pop, a howl of pain.

His grip loosened.

And that was all she needed.

And that was all she needed.

Her hand shot to her belt—a flick of the wrist, a blur of steel—the dagger flew straight for the bounty hunter’s eye.

But he was fast. Too fast.

With a sharp clap of metal on metal, he caught it mid-air.

Bounty Hunter: (smirking) “Don’t think so.”

Lara: (grinning) “Yeah? Enjoy that.”

The smirk vanished.

A sharp, hissing crack erupted from the blade, and suddenly—darkness.

Bounty Hunter: (snarling, stumbling back) “What the hell?! I— I can’t see!”

Lara: (mocking, already moving) “See ya later. But it’s gonna be a bit before you do, thanks to that blackout dagger you’re holding.”

Bounty Hunter: (furious, voice snapping) “Get her! Now!”

She heard it immediately—footsteps.

Light armor. Four of them. Fast.

The chase was on.

Lara launched forward, sprinting into the alley, weaving through shadows.

Behind her? Chaos.

A furious bounty hunter, his men scrambling to react, barking orders, stumbling in the dark—but the smart ones were already after her.

She vaulted a crate, hit the rooftops, and ran.

Mercs: (shouting) “Shoot her!”

The night exploded in fire and metal.

A hail of bullets and streaking energy blasts ripped through the air as Lara sprinted across the rooftop.

She yanked a kinetic shield grenade from her belt, thumbed the trigger, and tossed it behind her.

BOOM—

A translucent barrier flashed to life, absorbing the first volley—bullets ricocheted, energy beams crackled against the field.

But it wouldn’t hold forever.

Lara didn’t have time to think—only move.

The mercs adjusted, flanking fast, cutting off her escape.

Then—a shot clipped her shoulder.

Pain flared, throwing off her balance.

Before she could react—

A second blast smashed into the rooftop beside her.

The ground vanished beneath her feet.

Lara plunged downward, twisting mid-air—a blur of shattered tiles and neon lights—

And crashed straight through a fabric awning.

The impact ripped the air from her lungs. She tumbled, hit the ground hard, and rolled—smashing straight into a market stall.

Crates splintered, vendors screamed, a holographic display fizzled out in sparks.

She was back in the bazaar.

Dazed, aching, but alive.

Above, she could hear the mercs already repositioning—they weren’t letting up.

Lara gritted her teeth, wiped the blood from her lip, and forced herself to move.

The mercs moved with lethal precision.

No hesitation. No wasted motion.

They dropped from the rooftops in perfect sync, kinetic dampeners absorbing the impact. Their advanced suits hissed as servos locked into place, closing the distance fast.

Too fast.

Lara gritted her teeth, her mind racing.

She reached into her belt—palmed two flash mines—thumbed the triggers.

A flick of the wrist—

The mines clattered against the stone floor.

BOOM—

A blinding white eruption of light and sound tore through the bazaar, sending vendors reeling, customers screaming, tables overturning.

Lara didn’t wait to see the damage.

She melted into the chaos.

A quick shift—shoulders low, hood up, blending into the frantic bodies now scattering in all directions.

The mercs weren’t so lucky.

Merc 1: (snarling, visor scrambling) “Damn it—lost visual!”

Merc 2: (gritted teeth) “Switch to thermal! Fan out!”

Lara ignored them. She was already moving.

I have to get to the caravan. It leaves tonight.

Her pulse hammered in her ears as she slipped between moving figures, ducked behind a supply cart, and cut through a row of fabric stalls.

She couldn’t fight them head-on.

Not like this.

But she didn’t have to.

She just had to outrun them.

Lara made it to the caravan depot.

She kept her pace steady, not running, not drawing attention. Every instinct screamed at her to keep moving, but she needed a moment.

It seemed she wasn’t followed.

Still, she didn’t trust it.

She slipped inside a public restroom, locked the door, and pressed her forehead against the cold metal.

Exhale. Focus.

She rolled her shoulder—white-hot pain tore through her.

Damn it.

Gritting her teeth, she pulled off her jacket, wincing as the fabric peeled away from the seared flesh. The wound wasn’t deep, but it was ugly—blackened edges, raw red center. A direct energy shot.

Could’ve been worse. Could’ve gone straight through.

She dug into her belt, pulling out a coag pack.

Tear it. Pour it. Clench your jaw.

The foam hissed as it spread over the wound, burning like molten glass for three agonizing seconds before the numbness set in.

Good enough.

She let her head fall back against the wall, trying to regain control of her breathing.

And that’s when it hit her—

The shop.

Bronx.

Xelric.

Lara’s breath hitched.

The bounty hunter knew her face—which meant someone had talked. Someone had given them that holo.

And if they were tracking her…

Her hands tightened into fists.

They might be tracking them too.