Chapter 3: — "Fleeing Like a Fucking Feathered Coward" - Target: Arai Akimitsu (II)

Rain slashed across my face as I bolted out of LOP-88, my boots skidding on the slick metal flooring. Behind me, the echoes of Arai’s panicked footsteps ricocheted down the corridor, bouncing off every wall and chasing blurred shadows into the dim red glow of the emergency lights. 

The whole hallway pulsed with alarm sirens, stuttering, angry, frantic, and adrenaline surged through my veins so sharply I felt almost weightless. I let the rush guide my stride as Rizzy floated just behind my shoulder, sensors humming, arms extended, scanning ahead for threats my human eyes hadn’t yet caught.

“You can’t run forever, Akimitsu!” I shouted, letting my voice cut through the chaos like a blade. It echoed through metal and storm and distant gunfire. I knew he heard me. And I knew the fear twisting in his chest would keep him stumbling, keep him desperate. 

The thrill of the hunt burned under my skin, electric and alive, this was what I lived for. Not the droning school lectures. Not the fake smiles demanded by the Smile-Score monitors. Not pretending to be normal.

“Stall her! Just HIT HER!” Arai’s voice cracked through the corridor, barked and frantic. Sloppy. His panic leaked into every word.

His men scrambled ahead of me, I could feel it. The first sparks of desperation always had a scent, a rhythm, a pulse.
My HUD flickered in my peripheral vision, highlighting micro-shifts: the tilt of a rifle, the twitch of a trigger finger, the slightest boot movement on the metal grates. Every detail became part of the cadence of my chase.

Rizzy kept pace with surgical precision, optics rotating, tiny motors whirring in anticipation. He moved as if we shared the same heartbeat.

My fingers tightened around the polymer grip of my pistol. Steady hands. Racing pulse. A heart screaming for answers. The world narrowed to a single point on the map: Arai. He had pieces of my brother’s story, pieces no one else would give me. And he was not walking away with them.

“Come on, Akimitsu,” I muttered as I slid around a corner, my eyes locking instantly onto movement ahead. “Let’s finish your little game.”

The lights above flickered, stuttering between crimson and cold white. Sparks spit from an exposed bundle of wires like angry fireflies. Rainwater drizzled from a ruptured vent, streaking down my cheek. The scene was a mess, chaotic, volatile, unpredictable.

Perfect.

“Hostiles ahead,” Rizzy said in my ear, voice flat and mechanical. “Probability of confrontation: high.”

A sharp laugh escaped my throat... tight and edged with adrenaline. “Yeah, I know, Rizzy. I see them. I'm not fucking blind!”

And then the chase slammed straight into a firefight.

The hallway narrowed ahead, metal walls slick with rainwater pooling in thin rivulets. My boots skidded on the wet flooring as I rounded a corner, and froze just long enough to register what waited.

A group of Arai’s men stood in formation, blocking the path. Heavier armor than the last squad. Rifles primed. Stances braced. Whatever panic they started with had melted into grim discipline.

I didn’t bother flinching.

Rizzy drifted a fraction closer, twin barrels rotating quietly. “Threat matrix updated. Hostile engagement imminent.”

No kidding.

I dropped behind a stack of crates, breath steady, muscles coiled. Focus narrowed to pinpoints. I leaned out, counting four, one kneeling, two at mid-height, one flanking to the right. They saw me.

They fired first.

Bullets screamed past with ear-stabbing shrieks, metal walls throwing sparks every direction. I rolled to fresh cover, momentum sliding me across slick flooring. Rizzy unleashed a burst of suppressive fire, forcing the squad to scramble and duck behind barrels and machinery. The scent of hot metal and ozone scorched the air, stinging my nose.

One of the men lunged toward me, trying to close distance before Rizzy could reacquire him. I twisted and brought my pistol around in a fast arc, the butt cracking against his jaw with a sickening thud. He hit the floor, dazed, weapon clattering across the metal grates.

“Keep her back! The boss needs time!” another shouted.

Rizzy spun, rotating his barrels in a perfectly timed line. His suppressive fire tore through crate corners and ricocheted off steel panels, showering the corridor in sparks. The men were forced to scatter and reload, their discipline unraveling seam by seam.

I surged forward, using crates for cover, firing tight bursts. My shots clipped weapons out of hands, forced hasty dodges, shoved panic into their movements. One tried to flank left... bad idea.
I caught the glint of his barrel and slammed a swift kick into his ribs, sending him stumbling sideways into a wall.

“Rizzy, status?” I hissed.

“Threats suppressed. Four remain mobile.”

Good. They were losing cohesion. And loss of cohesion meant Arai wouldn’t have time to escape.

The firefight crackled around me, bullets pinging metal, angry shouts, bursts of sparks. Each movement, each dodge, each trigger pull shoved me closer to the truth. Closer to what Arai had taken.

By the time the final shot faded into ringing silence, I was already sprinting through the corridor toward the stairwell.

The metal staircase groaned under my boots, rainwater dripping through the grated steps and splashing onto my face. Arai’s voice echoed above me, ragged with panic, his breathing loud enough that I could almost taste the fear radiating off him.

Rizzy hovered at my back, optics flickering. “Warning: hostiles from below. Probability of engagement: high.”

I didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. My heartbeat was a hard drum in my ears, but my mind was cold, clear, razor-edged.

Shadows darted below through the stair gaps, and I fired short bursts downward, sparks erupting off the railing. A thug swung down from a higher landing, trying to ambush me from above. I caught his wrist mid-swing, twisted, and sent him tumbling backward with a pained shout.

The stairwell was tight, narrow, vertical, unforgiving. A killing cage. Perfect for me.

Arai was only a half-flight ahead now. Sweat streaked his face, mixing with rain. He kept glancing back, and I made sure he saw me every time... made sure he saw how close I was, how inevitable the end of this chase was.

“Rizzy, cover the lower steps!” I snapped, vaulting over a railing to avoid a stray bullet.

“Affirmative.”

Rizzy rotated downward, bullets raining in a controlled arc that pinned the men below against the walls. Sparks bit at the metal with every impact.

I pushed upward, boots sliding on slick steps. Each movement was calculated, kick off a pipe for leverage here, grab a railing there, duck under a swinging weapon, fire through a stair gap. Precision born from training and desperation.

Another thug lunged at me with a knife, blade flashing. I twisted mid-air, slamming the railing into his chest. He tumbled three steps before collapsing with a groan.

Rizzy chimed: “Three hostiles remaining. Vertical threat: high. Estimated time to target: twenty seconds.”

“Twenty seconds is more than enough,” I muttered, firing upward as another shadow moved above.

Each shot clipped armor, shattered balance, shattered morale. The stairwell filled with the metallic shriek of ricochets. A countdown Arai couldn’t outrun.

Finally, the top landing came into view where neon city light leaked blue and pink across the wet metal. Arai was there, just a few staggering steps ahead. Pale. Trembling. Completely undone.

I slowed just enough to assess. Rizzy hovered behind me, barrels glowing faintly.

“Prepare for final engagement.”

I didn’t respond. The rooftop was waiting.

The stairwell spat me out into the open storm, rain slicing across my face in cold, stinging sheets. Neon signs shimmered in every puddle, their pinks and blues bleeding across the rooftop’s soaked concrete.

Arai Akimitsu stood center-stage... cornered, chest heaving, eyes wild and reflective like those of a trapped animal. He skidded backward instinctively, searching for an exit that didn’t exist.

“Stay back! I-I’ll jump if I have to!” he shouted, voice breaking.

I stepped toward him, boots clicking on the wet ground. A smirk tugged at my lips, cool and dismissive. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be, Akimitsu!”

Wind whipped my hair into my eyes, plastering my ponytail to my cheek. Behind me, Rizzy hovered with a soft mechanical whirr.

“Multiple hostiles approaching from below,” Rizzy reported. “Probability of reinforcement: moderate.”

“Let them come,” I muttered, gaze locked on Arai. “He’s the one I want.”

Arai threw his hands up in a pathetic attempt at a defensive gesture, stumbling closer to the edge. His eyes flicked between me and the drop behind him. Rainwater streaked down his face, sweat, fear, storm, all mixed into one trembling mess.

“You… you don’t understand,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean—”

“Save it.” My voice cut cold as steel. I took a slow, measured step closer. “I don’t want excuses. I want answers… and consequences.”

The wind tore across the rooftop, whipping his jacket, tugging at my clothes, humming against metal vents. Arai's foot slipped dangerously close to the edge, and every tremor in his stance screamed how close he was to breaking.

“Naomi… please—” His voice cracked. Pathetic. He was begging now...

[TO BE CONTINUED]