Those blinding beams of light pinned Kane to the spot.

  Behind the light was the roar of engines and the chaotic crunch of tires over gravel.

  The fury of the Vulture Gang.

  They had arrived.

  Not just one, but a pack.

  The impatient voice from the radio had become a death knell.

  "Brutus, where the fuck are you?"

  The voice echoed, but no one would answer.

  Under the weight of extreme crisis, Kane’s brain instead settled into a state of absolute calm.

  His blood surged like a boiling torrent, instantly drowning out the external noise.

  Heartbeat.

  Thump.

  Thump.

  Thump.

  Every pulse acted like a heavy war drum, pumping the predatory power plundered from the Shadow Stalker into his every limb.

  Run.

  Only that single word remained in his mind.

  But how?

  The entrance to the scrapyard was blocked. He was trapped in the center of a stage built of light, like an insect pinned by a spotlight.

  A straight sprint in any direction would immediately invite a hail of bullets.

  "There! Dammit, Brutus is down over there!"

  A roar of shock and rage erupted from the entrance.

  The light beams wavered violently, all focusing on the corpse of Brutus... right behind Kane.

  The chance!

  It was a window of a thousandth of a second.

  Kane didn't choose to flee deeper into the darkness; that would have drawn their attention back to him instantly.

  Instead, he lunged toward Brutus’s corpse!

  Under the stunned eyes of the Vulture Gang members, he slammed into Brutus’s still-warm body like a ravenous hound.

  He drove the dagger in once more!

  Not out of spite, but for leverage.

  Using the corpse as a fulcrum and exhausting every ounce of his strength, he violently heaved Brutus’s massive, 200-pound frame to the side.

  Whoosh—!

  Brutus’s body acted like a wall of meat, trailing a spray of blood as it went tumbling into the man-high stack of scrap tires to Kane’s left.

  Clatter-crash—!

  The mountain of tires collapsed under the impact, creating an immediate explosion of noise and visual chaos.

  "Open fire!!"

  Someone bellowed.

  Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!

  Violent tongues of flame instantly tore through the darkness.

  Bullets poured frantically into the tire pile, shredding black rubber shards into the air. A pungent stench of scorched rubber filled the atmosphere.

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  But the moment he had flipped the corpse, Kane had stayed low, catapulting himself in the opposite direction toward the precarious stack of old engines.

  The world slowed down in his eyes.

  The trajectory of every bullet dragged a lethal arc of light, terrifyingly clear.

  He could see their paths.

  He could predict their points of impact.

  Body instinct bypassed thought. Amidst the complex shadows of the engine pile, he executed a series of unbelievable evasive maneuvers.

  A lateral slide avoided three bullets fanning out toward him.

  A roll sent him diving into the hollowed-out shell of a massive generator.

  The cold metal casing enveloped him, providing a temporary sanctuary from the hailstorm of lead outside.

  But he knew this was only temporary.

  "He hid in that pile of scrap metal! Surround it! Don't let him get away!"

  Footsteps and curses drifted in from all directions. They were tightening the noose.

  Kane curled up inside the generator shell, gasping for air, his chest burning with a searing pain. A sharp sting shot through his back. He reached back to feel it; his hand came away slick and warm.

  A stray bullet had grazed him, leaving a mess of mangled flesh.

  Fear and agony acted like jagged teeth, gnawing at his every nerve. Yet, that feral instinct continued to scream within him.

  Calm down!

  He forced himself to steady his breathing. He had processed corpses in this scrapyard for three years. Every corner, every pile of debris, and every structural weakness was etched into his mind.

  This was his home turf.

  Kane closed his eyes, rapidly constructing a 3D map of the scrapyard in his mind.

  The entrance was blocked. To the left was the tire pile, now a wall of flame. To the right stood towering stacks of scrap steel—a literal wall leading to a dead end.

  The only way out... was up!

  He snapped his eyes open. His gaze pierced through the gaps in the generator shell, locking onto the massive, long-abandoned magnetic crane in the center of the yard.

  It sat like a dormant iron beast amidst the ruins. Its long jib arm pointed diagonally toward the outer wall of the scrapyard. If he could reach that arm, he could clear the perimeter and vanish into the sprawling, labyrinthine slums beyond.

  However, between him and the crane lay twenty meters of open ground.

  A death zone with zero cover.

  "Found you! You little bastard!"

  A malicious laugh rang out from directly above.

  Kane’s pupils constricted. A heavy combat boot slammed violently against the generator shell.

  Clang—!

  The massive impact vibrated through the casing, making his eardrums ring. A face full of scarred flesh peered through a jagged hole in the top, eyes dancing with cruel amusement.

  He had been spotted.

  "Get the hell out here!" the man roared, shoving the muzzle of a submachine gun down into the opening.

  Every hair on Kane’s body stood on end. There was no time to think. His coiled body, like a spring compressed to its limit, suddenly snapped forward.

  Boom!

  The moment he burst out of the generator shell, gunfire erupted behind him. Bullets tore into his former hiding spot, sending sparks flying in every direction.

  Kane charged into the twenty-meter death zone.

  "There he is! Don't let him reach the crane!"

  Every muzzle swiveled instantly. A dozen tongues of flame wove a web of death, collapsing toward him.

  I'm dead.

  The thought barely surfaced before it was shredded by the feral instinct surging through his veins.

  Run!

  Run! Run! Run!

  He pushed [ Kinetic Boost ] to its absolute limit. His muscles screamed; his bones groaned under the strain. He felt as if his legs were about to catch fire.

  The wind shrieked in his ears, and the entire world dissolved into a blur of fragmented colors.

  Only that cold, iron titan grew clearer and clearer in his vision!

  Closer!

  Even closer!

  Ten meters!

  Five meters!

  Three meters!

  Just as he was about to lung onto the crane’s treads, a lethal sense of crisis exploded from his flank!

  From the corner of his eye, he saw a Vulture Gang member who had already circled around to his side.

  The man didn't fire.

  Instead, he sneered and drew a massive metal net flickering with blue electric arcs from behind his back!

  There was no room to retreat!

  A flash of manic ruthlessness erupted in Kane’s eyes!

  Mid-sprint, he slammed his right foot down onto the edge of a warped steel plate!

  The opposite end of the plate flipped up with a sharp whistle, howling through the air as it whipped toward the brute holding the net!

  The man hadn't expected this move at all and instinctively raised his arm to block.

  Now!

  Borrowing the momentum from the stomp, Kane forcibly twisted his body in mid-air, narrowly evading the front of the electric net.

  At the same time, his left hand shot out like lightning, death-gripping the crane's freezing iron treads!

  Sizzle—!

  The lethal net grazed his back, burning a massive hole in his clothes and instantly charring his flesh black!

  The agony nearly made him black out!

  But he didn't dare stop!

  Kane used every last shred of his strength, hand over hand like a gecko, frantically scrambling up the crane's massive treads and chassis!

  "Dammit!"

  "This kid is freaking cursed!"

  The curses from below were left far behind.

  Kane hauled himself onto the crane’s platform. Ignoring the searing pain and blood loss, he dove headfirst into the operator's cab.

  It was relatively safe here.

  But the gunfire outside grew even more concentrated. Bullets hammered frantically against the cab's reinforced glass, blooming into a series of spiderweb-like cracks.

  He gasped for air, the metallic taste of blood welling up in his throat.

  Kane looked at his body—charred by electricity and grazed by stray lead—and stared at his trembling hands.

  He had survived.

  No.

  It wasn't over yet.

  His gaze fell upon the dust-covered control console inside the cab.

  A red button labeled "EMERGENCY BRAKE RELEASE" caught his eye.

  A localized, insane idea began to take shape in Kane’s mind.

  His lips pulled back, and a blood-stained grin bloomed savagely in the darkness of the cab.

  You want to play?

  Then let's... play big!

  Thanks for reading!

  RATINGS and REVIEWS are super important for visibility. If you enjoy the story so far, please take 10 seconds to leave a 5-star rating! It helps more than you know. Thanks!

  Want to read ahead?

  30 Advance Chapters right now on my Patreon!