The perpetually waterlogged alleyways of District 13 had transformed into John Doe’s nightmare labyrinth.

  The footsteps behind him grew more chaotic and closer. It wasn’t just a few people; it was dozens, maybe even a hundred poor souls whose eyes had turned red at the sight of "500 Credits." They didn't hold magical weapons, but things far more lethal in a street fight: rusty iron pipes, broken beer bottles, and even spray bottles filled with industrial acid.

  "Boss, the front is blocked!"

  Bone’s voice exploded in John's earpiece.

  John slammed on the brakes. At the alley mouth ahead, several masked thugs were lying in wait, swinging iron chains. They had clearly received the intel—this was the only path to John’s dilapidated shipping container apartment complex.

  "Grace! Route!" John gasped, his lungs feeling like they were on fire.

  "Go up!"

  Grace’s small head popped out of his wristband, pointing to a precarious drainage pipe on the exterior wall of a condemned building nearby. "Climb that! It’s a blind spot!"

  John didn't hesitate. He stuffed the iPad into his jacket and scrambled up the shaking pipe using both hands and feet. Bone followed close behind. Despite being a skeleton, his reinforced frame was surprisingly agile; he even managed to use one hand to shove John upward when he slipped.

  Clang! Clang!

  Several bricks smashed into the pipe below them, sparking against the metal.

  John vaulted over the rooftop railing, finally landing back on the roof of his own building.

  This was his final fortress.

  But he knew this height wouldn't stop those maniacs. If he didn't do something, they would be drowned by the human wave tonight, turned into a pile of minced meat to be exchanged for that 500 credits.

  "No money to call for backup." John looked at the iPad. The Merit Points he hadn't even warmed up yet had been deducted to pay the interest. A bitter smile touched his lips. "This time, we can only rely on ourselves."

  "Boss, what's the play?" Bone slammed his battle axe (actually a driveshaft torn from a car) onto the concrete. "Fight 'em to the death?"

  "Fight? Do you want to be dismantled into scrap iron and sold for 500 bucks too?" John glared at him.

  He looked down at the dense crowd swarming below, then looked at this crumbling building he had lived in for twenty years.

  He knew every brick, every wire, even every mouse hole in this place.

  "We don't fight hard." John’s eyes sharpened, a cunning glint flickering within them—the look of someone backed into a corner who decides to play dirty. "We... fight smart."

  "Grace, take over every electronic device in this building. Connect everything, even the rice cookers!"

  "Roger that! Smart Home system (second-hand edition) online!"

  "Bone, go get that barrel of expired industrial lubricant from the hallway. And the high-voltage wires left over from the plumbing repairs."

  John fished out his scalpel from his pocket, along with a pile of scrap materials he’d scavenged from the junkyard but hadn't thrown away yet.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Welcome to the District 13 Funhouse." John sneered. "Admission fee... is your greed."

  ...

  Ten minutes later.

  The first wave to charge up consisted of several burly gang enforcers. They didn't take the stairs (because the stairwell was blocked with junk); instead, they chose to climb through the windows.

  "Hey, this kid's window is open!" the lead thug shouted excitedly. "Just our luck!"

  He vaulted nimbly into the second-floor living room.

  The moment his feet touched the floor.

  ZZZT—!

  A blue electric current instantly shot up from the rug.

  "ARGH!!!"

  The thug screamed and leaped into the air, convulsing, his hair standing on end.

  Beneath that seemingly ordinary rug lay a stripped heating wire from an electric blanket, connected directly to the high-voltage transformer Bone was holding.

  "One," John counted calmly while watching the surveillance feed.

  The thug tried to run back to the window, but before he could make it, his foot slipped.

  The floor was slathered in that barrel of expired industrial lubricant.

  THUD!

  The thug slammed face-first onto the floor, his momentum sliding him forward until the back of his head cracked against an inflatable toy hammer John had deliberately placed there (filled with cement).

  Knocked out cold.

  "You can do that?" Bone watched, the fire in his sockets flickering wildly. "Boss, that’s dirtier than anything I’ve ever done!"

  "That’s called physics." John said while tapping on the iPad. "Grace, second-floor hallway. The voice-activated light."

  "On it!"

  At this moment, the second wave had already rushed into the stairwell. They moved cautiously in the dark.

  "Why is it so dark?"

  "Shhh! Quiet!"

  Suddenly.

  "WAAAAAAH—!!!"

  A blood-curdling, ghostly scream exploded in the narrow stairwell.

  It was Grace controlling a broken smart speaker, blasting the scream from "The Ring" at max volume.

  Simultaneously, the disrepair voice-activated light in the hallway suddenly flashed, emitting a blinding red glare (John had painted the bulb with red oil paint).

  In that red strobe light and amidst the screaming, these thugs—who were already guilty and nervous—saw...

  A skeleton hanging from the ceiling, swinging back and forth.

  It was Bone, who had detached one of his hands and hung it there as bait.

  "GHOST!!!"

  These scumbags, who usually didn't fear the dead, were terrified out of their wits by this cheap haunted house effect. The people in front tried to run back, while the people behind were still pushing forward.

  Instantly, a stampede occurred.

  "Ouch! Don't step on my face!"

  "Who grabbed my ass?!"

  The stairwell turned into chaos.

  "Now!" John shouted.

  Bone jumped down from the ceiling (literally jumped), crashing into the crowd like a bowling ball hitting pins. He didn't use a weapon; he just used his hard skeletal body to rampage through the mob.

  "Coming through! Make way! Don't you have eyes?!"

  With every impact, someone went flying.

  Grace wasn't idle either. She hacked into the hallway's fire sprinkler system.

  "Cool off, boys!"

  Whoosh!

  Ice-cold fire suppression water sprayed out, drenching the mob.

  The water mixed with the lubricant on the floor, turning the hallway into a friction-less slip-and-slide.

  That night, this dilapidated building in District 13 became a veritable hell.

  Someone was launched by a spring-loaded floorboard.

  Someone got their hand crushed by a smart door slamming shut.

  Someone got a black eye from a tennis ball fired from a makeshift launcher John built.

  They came to catch a man, yet they hadn't even touched the hem of John's clothes before being tortured into submission by these crude, dirt-cheap, yet incredibly effective traps.

  Dawn was approaching.

  The crowd downstairs thinned out. Most people looked at the "Ghost Building," listened to the screams coming from inside, and finally let their fear override their greed.

  Five hundred bucks... didn't seem worth dying for.

  John sat on the water tank on the roof, watching the retreating crowd.

  He was soaked in sweat, clutching the remote control for the traps. Bone sat next to him, popping a dislocated rib back into place. Grace’s holographic projection sat on the edge of the tank, swinging her little legs. Although she was just data, her face was written with excitement.

  "We... we held them off?" Grace asked.

  "Yeah." John nodded.

  He looked at his two non-human partners.

  If this were the old him, he would have fainted from fear long ago.

  But now, he had learned to use his environment, use the enemy's weaknesses, and use his brain to fight when magic wasn't an option.

  This was growth.

  You didn't need earth-shattering forbidden spells or divine weapons.

  As long as you didn't want to lose, even a bucket of oil could make someone fall flat on their face.

  "Let's go." John stood up and patted Bone on the shoulder. "We won the battle, but we can't stay here anymore."

  "Where to?"

  "The docks." John’s eyes turned dark. "Those people won't just let this go. If they can't catch me, they'll definitely go for..."

  He didn't finish the sentence. But he knew the worst-case scenario was approaching.

  [Message from Singularity]

  VIP Suite for you over on the Patreon Server. We are opening New Rooms (Chapters) for FREE daily. Even better? Select Chapters feature HD Illustrations for the full immersive experience.

  ?? [Enter the VIP Suite]