Chapter 119

The rain lashed down on the city. The large droplets pounded against the rooftops, creating a cacophony of noise that echoed through the desolate streets below. Jake remained crouched at the corner of the roof as the raindrops assaulted him. The rainwater beaded up on his irregular body, only to roll down his skin in rivulets that followed the contours of his textured skin. The rain striking his hunched form didn’t bother him in the slightest. Neither the downpour nor the cold caused him any discomfort.

He was as motionless as a statue, peering down. The heavy rain created a lot of noise, drowning out most sounds. However, his acute hearing had managed to pick up something else. At first, the sound was hard to identify, but as it gradually grew louder, he soon realized it was the rumble of an engine. Even though he couldn’t see it yet, he knew the vehicle was nearing the building on the rooftop of which he was perched.

Sure, a vehicle driving through the night was nothing extraordinary, but he could already tell that something unusual was happening. His acute senses picked up other noise over the downpour—the splashing sounds of something or someone who was sloshing through waterlogged streets. So, Jake remained where he was, watching the streets below through the heavy veil of rain.

As the water cascaded off the edges of buildings, it flooded the sidewalks, turning them into wetlands. The dirty water swirled and eddied in the gutters, carrying with it pieces of various debris. Perched precariously on the edge of the high-rise building, Jake continued to gaze at the rain-soaked city below, waiting patiently.

The relentless downpour created a veil of water that obscured his view, with the droplets clinging to his eyes, distorting his vision, yet causing him no other discomfort. The wind whipped through the torrential downpour, sending sheets of water crashing against the buildings, lashing out at the tall grass pushing through the cracks in the asphalt, and creating a maelstrom of noise that should’ve drowned out even the faintest sounds from below. Despite that, Jake could clearly hear the splashing from running feet as well as the rumble of the vehicle engine in the distance, growing louder with each passing second.

Then, a group of survivors burst from an alleyway onto the main street. They paused for a moment, and Jake watched through the rain’s curtain as they whispered among themselves, casting furtive glances in both directions. Then, they bolted toward the building where he was perched on the roof. With every stride, they sent large splashes of muddy water flying in every direction.

The group of survivors kept running, sloshing through the water, their ragged clothes soaked and clinging to their frames. Occasionally, they glanced over their shoulders at the alley from which they’d just emerged. It wasn’t long before a black, futuristic-looking motorcycle shot out of the same alley. The bike’s powerful headlight cast a bright beam that pierced through the darkness.

The rider was clad in a tattered leather coat with the hood pulled up, and a red bandana concealed the lower half of the rider’s face. From the contours of her body, it was clear the rider was female. She slowed her speed, whipping her bike in the direction the survivors had taken, sending waves of muddy water splashing around her. Once she completed the turn, she immediately accelerated again.

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One of the survivors let out a panicked scream upon seeing the bike quickly closing in on them. Another extended a hand back, holding a pistol in it, and popped off several hasty shots. The bullets struck a magical barrier surrounding the rider, dealing no damage to it at all. The person continued to fire blindly while running, causing the rider’s shield to spark with flashes of blue light at the points of impact. Each shot ricocheted off the magical barrier, leaving it unscathed. The survivor kept pulling the trigger until the handgun ran dry.

Suddenly, a pickup truck with a heavy-caliber machine gun mounted in the bed surged from a side street, screeching to a stop directly across the main road, effectively blocking the survivors’ escape route. The female rider followed suit, bringing her motorcycle to a halt a dozen yards behind the group. She unslung what looked like a submachine gun and aimed it at them, holding the weapon one-handed.

The person manning the mounted machine gun leveled the weapon at the survivors and shouted, “Don’t fucking move, or you’ll die!”

The group acknowledged the danger and froze, their eyes fixed on the technical parked several yards in front of them. At that moment, they received orders to drop their weapons, which the survivors reluctantly obeyed. Another pickup truck—this one without a mounted weapon—pulled out from the same side street and halted behind the technical. Two men stepped out and advanced toward the survivors, who were huddled together, trembling from either fear or the chill of the air, but likely both.

The rain continued to pour, drumming against the pavement and Jake’s skin as he emotionlessly watched the scene unfold below him. In this dangerous and lawless world altered by the System, he was just a silent observer. He had no intention of intervening in the events occurring on the street ten stories below. What was taking place there had nothing to do with him. Whatever humans chose to do was their own concern. Unless they attacked him and left him no choice but to fight back, he saw no reason to involve himself in their affairs.

Each attacker sported a red bandana or had a red scarf wrapped around their neck, indicating their affiliation with Los Demonios. The two Demons who had just emerged from the second pickup truck quickly tied the survivors’ hands behind their backs. The motorcycle’s engine growled to a stop as the rider dismounted to assist her companions in restraining their victims. The survivors were then ordered to climb into the bed of the second truck and lie down on the boards. The two Demons joined them in the bed, sitting on the benches across from one another and resting their boots on the backs of the helpless survivors sprawled on their stomachs.

The gunner in the first truck’s bed turned toward the female rider standing nearby and shouted to be heard over the downpour, “Good job, Catalina! You brought them right to us!”

She acknowledged his words with a nod. Then, the two pickup trucks turned and rumbled down the street, disappearing from sight. The rider slung her submachine gun across her shoulder and made her way back to her motorcycle. Just as she mounted it and was about to follow the trucks, something prompted her to tilt her head back and look up.

Catalina squinted against the rain pelting her skin. The lower half of her face was concealed by the red bandana she wore, leaving only her eyes visible. She peered into the rainy darkness and seemed to lock eyes with Jake ten stories above her. For a moment, he was convinced the darkness of the night and the downpour might hide him from her sight. However, he then noticed her body tense, a clear indication that she’d spotted him.

Before she could react, though, Jake stood up and spun around. He bolted across the roof and leaped to another building, vanishing into the rainy night.