Unexpected Interruptions (2/2)

Her clothing, soaked through by the unrelenting downpour, clung to her like a second skin, the water pooling in the hollows of her tactical vest and dripping steadily from the brim of her cap.

Despite the discomfort, Kai's focus never wavered; her gaze pierced through the veil of rain, scanning the darkness for any sign of Elias Wren. The cool air was thick with the scent of rain, oil, and the distant, acrid burn of industrial fumes, blending into a cocktail that was as familiar as it was oppressive.

Kai's eyes, shielded beneath the cap, flickered with anticipation. She shifted slightly, adjusting her stance, feeling the weight of the compact, silenced firearm tucked securely in a holster under her arm. The weapon was cold comfort, a necessary tool in a game that played for keeps. Each passing minute stretched taut, the tension building like electricity in the damp air.

A faint noise, the splash of footsteps approaching through a puddle, snapped Kai's attention to the left. Her body tensed, ready to spring, as a silhouette emerged from the mists—a large, imposing figure that moved with the assuredness of someone well aware of their own power. Even through the downpour, Elias Wren's distinctive build was unmistakable. His broad shoulders and towering frame, enhanced by the genetic gifts of a silverback gorilla, made him a figure of brute force and raw survival instinct.

Kai's breath held in her chest, her fingers tightening around the grip of her firearm. As Elias approached, the neon lights intermittently illuminated his figure, casting long, monstrous shadows that flickered across the wet buildings. The rain seemed to hesitate around him as if wary of touching his imposing form. His dark, focused eyes scanned his surroundings—a predator wary of other hunters.

The streetlight above Kai flickered, casting stroboscopic shadows and throwing her corner into deeper darkness. She used the momentary lapse, a brief dance of light and shadow, to adjust her position, ensuring she remained unseen. Her heart beat a steady rhythm, adrenaline coursing through her veins, each beat a drum of war in the quiet before the storm.

Elias stopped, tilting his head slightly. His senses caught the shift in the air, the subtle scent of an ambush. He stood still, a statue amidst the storm, his gaze narrowing as he searched the darkened nooks of the street. Kai's finger rested on the trigger, her aim steady despite the drumming rain.

Then, the standoff broke as Elias turned his head directly towards her hiding spot, his eyes locking onto hers with an unsettling precision. The recognition was immediate, a silent acknowledgment of the hunt and the hunted. Kai's resolve hardened; this was the moment of truth, the culmination of planning, waiting, and the raw need for resolution.

She stepped forward from the shadows, weapon raised, her voice cutting through the rain's murmur, "Elias Wren, it ends tonight."

With a whirr, Elais's arm shot from his shoulder, aiming for Kai's neck. Dodging out of the way, Kai barely made it. After rolling into the oil-soaked puddles, she saw Elias run away. "Damn it!" Kai said to herself. Getting up, she ran after him.

The chase was solitary, an internal fire fueling each step through the labyrinthine cityscape. This hunt was simply about fulfilling a contract. The rivulets of water streaming down her face did little to wash away the bitterness of past grievances.

Kai's focus was akin to a blade—sharp enough to cut through the distractions of the night, honed by years of navigating the treacherous paths of her occupation. The cold, wet air filled her lungs with each breath, merging with the smoldering desire for retribution that warmed her blood.

Above, the city's towering spires loomed, sentinels to the secrets held within the shadows below. As Kai pursued her quarry through the slick arteries of New Cascadia, she carried with her the hope for a better future for her mother and the weight of a history eager for closure.

Kai's breath fogged before her as she darted through the alley, the neon glare from overhead signs casting stark shadows across her path. Her target was close now, his panicked footsteps echoing between the high walls of New Cascadia's underbelly.

"End of the line," Kai muttered, a grim smile on her lips.

She readied the compact detonator, a tool meant to disorient, not destroy. But her calculations were a fraction off in the heat of the chase. The explosive charge, intended to block the escape route, tore through a rusty pipe instead. A cloud of debris erupted into the night, and with it came an unforeseen casualty.

A sharp cry pierced the air, distinct from the cacophony of the chase. Kai's eyes snapped to the source—a young man clutching his arm, blood seeping between his fingers, a casualty of the chaos she had wrought. His wide eyes met hers, reflecting shock and pain, a silent plea for mercy.

"Damn it," she swore under her breath, her mission momentarily forgotten. The target could wait; this wasn't collateral damage she could ignore. Kai's code might have been flexible when dealing with gangsters and thugs, but innocence was a line she couldn't cross.

Elias Wren ran away from the explosion scene, and Kai returned to the man she injured. S sirens and drones moving into the air carry through the rainy night. A sense of urgency carried Kai faster as she reached the wounded man.

Slinging the young man's arm over her shoulder, she quickly assessed his injury with a practiced eye. "I've got you," she said, more to herself than to him. It reassured her that she hadn't lost herself to the darkness of her work.

The nearest underground clinic was a few blocks away, a refuge for those wounded in the city's unending turf wars. As she maneuvered through the maze of alleys, the man's weight seemed to grow heavier, a physical manifestation of her conscience bearing down upon her.

Reaching the clinic, she kicked at the nondescript door, which swung open to reveal a sterile space bathed in harsh white light. A rebel doctor, known for saving lives without questions, stepped forward, his expression hardening at the sight before him.

Dr. Arlo Burrow looked over with a slightly hunched posture that added to his mole-like appearance. His skin is pale, with earthy tones. He has sparse hair on his head, neatly trimmed. His nose is prominent and rounded. Dr. Burrow's eyes are small but incredibly sharp. They are dark, almost black, and gleamed with intelligence.

"Another one of your messes?" he accused, though his hands were already outstretched to take the injured man from her grasp.

"It was an accident," Kai snapped back, the edge in her voice betraying her defensiveness. I don't make a habit of hurting civilians."

"Could've fooled me," the doctor retorted, laying the bystander onto a makeshift gurney. His skilled fingers began probing the wound, focusing entirely on his patient.

Kai watched, tension coiling within her. She knew the doctor's judgment was not unfounded—her work inevitably led to unintended victims. Yet the accusation stung, a reminder of the fine line she treads every day.

"Make sure he makes it, Arlo," she demanded, her tone softer now, revealing the conflict buried beneath her hardened exterior.

Dr. Burrow paused, meeting her gaze. "I always do, regardless of who causes the harm. Maybe you should start asking yourself why you're bringing them here in the first place."

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15 Days to Calamity