I started as Replica yesterday and I’m already back on the field with barely 4 hours of sleep in. And despite all that, I didn’t feel any exhaustion. Actually, it was more exhilarating than anything. I thought I could maybe thrive here and now.
I strangely feel at ease with the situation. Running to the edge of a district in hope of catching some clues on a villain group was grounding.
Despite all that, though, doubt still lingered at the edges of my mind. I had no concrete plan, no idea what I’d find or who I’d run into. The faint streetlights of Brotteaux cast long, wavering shadows over cracked sidewalks and grimy alleys. The district seemed quieter than usual, an eerie silence blanketing the streets. The only sound was the rhythmic tap of my boots against the ground as I jogged through narrow passages, blending into the dark like a shadow slipping through the cracks.
The forum post kept replaying in my mind: “a package in the outer edge of Brotteaux”. The Red Hands had been seen making a move, and it was likely related to what I had stolen from them. If they were scrambling for answers or retaliation, I needed to know. The adrenaline surged through me, every muscle in my body taut with anticipation.
A flicker of motion caught my eye as I rounded a corner. I skidded to a stop, pressing my back against the rough brick wall of a run-down building. Two figures were huddled near a rusted dumpster, their voices low and hurried. One of them—a wiry man with a shaved head—glanced over his shoulder nervously, eyes darting back and forth before returning to the conversation. The other, a woman with short-cropped hair and a jagged scar running across her cheek, leaned in close, gesturing animatedly.
“...He said it’s the last time we take jobs like this without proper backup. Whatever we were looking for, it’s worth more than our necks,” the man muttered, voice strained.
The woman scoffed, shaking her head. “We don’t have a choice. You saw what happened at The Vault. Boss wants answers, and if we don’t find out who hit us, we’re next on the chopping block.”
I swallowed hard, my breath coming out in a barely audible whisper. I struck gold with those I needed to find, and they were talking about yesterday. Clearly the Genesis serum was their goal.
The man sighed, running a hand over his face. “Let’s move. If anyone’s lurking around, we don’t want to be here when they show up.”
I pressed myself tighter against the wall as the two figures walked past, their boots crunching softly against the cracked pavement. I waited until their footsteps faded before slipping back into the shadows, following them at a safe distance. The narrow alleys twisted like veins, each turn more disorienting than the last. Brotteaux was a maze, a labyrinth mimicking what was the old city of Lyon.
The two Red Hands operatives stopped near a row of old, boarded-up shops, their voices dropping as they spoke with another figure—a large, imposing man with a deep voice that carried through the silence like a low rumble. I crept closer, my heart pounding as I strained to catch their words.
“...boss isn’t happy,” the big man said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Says if we don’t find out who messed with our plans, the creeper will make sure we pay double.”
The words hung in the air, thick with unspoken dread. I felt my pulse quicken, and the hairs on my neck stood on end. The creeper. I didn’t know who or what that was, but the way the big man said it sent a chill down my spine. Whoever—or whatever—it was, the Red Hands feared it. And fear in a group like theirs wasn’t just for show; it was real and warranted.
The trio stood beneath a flickering neon sign that read Antiquités et Curiosités, its cracked facade hiding the once-vibrant shop it had been. The larger man stepped back slightly, revealing a sharp profile under the dim light. He was tall and muscular, his shadow spilling across the cobblestone like a giant, and his eyes were sharp, scanning the street for signs of movement.
I held my breath, remaining motionless as he glanced in my direction. The shadows were deep enough to keep me concealed, but one wrong move, one slip of sound, and this night could end in disaster.
“Search everything on this block,” the large man ordered. “We’re not leaving until we find out who crossed us. If you see anything suspicious, don’t engage alone. We don’t need another failure.”
The woman nodded, her scar pulling at the corner of her mouth in a grimace. “Understood. Let’s move.”
The three figures split up, each moving with the silent efficiency of trained operatives. The wiry man took the alley to my left, while the scarred woman ducked into a side street lined with shuttered windows and ancient iron railings. The big man stayed put, his stance tense as he surveyed the area.
My mind raced. If they spread out and found me, I’d be trapped. I needed to keep moving, stay one step ahead. I crept along the building’s edge, making sure to keep the shifting shadows between me and the large man. His eyes swept past me again, and I slipped into a narrow gap between two brick buildings, the walls pressing in close enough to brush against my shoulders.
If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
“Please don’t be a metahuman with extra-senses…” I prayed so in my mind.
I waited, listening. The sounds of footsteps echoed through the alleyways, punctuated by the occasional muttered curse or the soft rustle of fabric. The Red Hands were thorough, their search methodical. They weren’t taking any chances tonight.
The alley I hid in was tight and smelled of damp and decay, but it provided a clear view of the larger man’s movements. He stepped into the street, his eyes narrowed as he scanned the area. A flicker of doubt passed over his face, and he clenched his fists. The light caught a flash of silver at his side—a knife, long and wickedly curved. My breath stilled in my chest.
“Where are you, you little rat?” he muttered to himself, his voice a low growl.
The comment made my blood curl, does he have some ways to sense my presence?
The big man took a few more steps forward, eyes sweeping over the cracked pavement and the debris-strewn corners of the narrow street. I could see the tension in his body, the way his muscles coiled under his dark clothing like a predator ready to strike. He was listening, waiting, his sharp eyes scanning every shadow with a predatory glint. I felt a bead of sweat trickle down the side of my face, cold against my skin.
I had to move. I shifted my weight slowly, inching deeper into the narrow gap between the buildings. The alley was dark enough to keep me hidden, but one wrong move, one snap of a loose brick or rustling sound, and he’d be on me in seconds.
The footsteps of the wiry man echoed nearby, his voice suddenly breaking the tense silence. “Nothing here,” he called, frustration colouring his tone.
The scarred woman emerged from the side street, her movements as sharp as her expression. “Same here. No sign of anything unusual.”
The large man exhaled, the sound a low growl. “Keep looking. I’m sure there’s something for us close by…” His eyes shifted to the crumbling walls, then to the dimly lit rooftops. The tension crackled in the air, and I could feel my heart hammering in my chest as I held my breath.
I tried to quiet the sound of my heartbeat, a thundering drum in the suffocating silence. The man’s gaze swept past me again, and I took the opportunity to slip further into the alley, every movement deliberate and controlled. The rough walls pressed against my back, the cool dampness seeping through my suit. My pulse raced as I strained to hear the shifting of their boots and their hushed conversation.
The big man stood still, eyes narrowing with suspicion. I couldn't shake the feeling that he was trying to sense something beyond what his eyes could see. The wiry man came closer, his shadow stretching toward the edge of my hiding place.
“You sure you saw something?” the scarred woman asked, annoyance biting through her words.
“I know what I felt,” the big man replied, his tone sharp and final. He reached for the curved knife at his side, the metallic glint catching the faint light. “Fan out and sweep again. No one leaves until we get that rat and all its secrets out.”
The wiry man moved first, boots scuffing the ground as he turned and made his way down an alley to my left. I watched, breath held, as he passed by, only a few feet from where I hid. The scarred woman took a position near an old, rusted gate that led to a courtyard covered in broken tiles and creeping vines. She kept glancing back, her eyes flickering with a wariness that spoke of past ambushes.
The big man lingered, shifting his weight as he scanned the area with an intensity that made my skin prickle. I needed to act, and soon. If they completed another sweep, I wouldn’t stay hidden for long. I weighed my options, considering the best way to create a diversion without revealing myself.
A faint clatter echoed from a street over—a trash can knocked over, maybe a stray animal. The sound was enough to draw the attention of the wiry man. He spun on his heel, head cocked, listening. The scarred woman straightened, eyes narrowing as she glanced in the direction of the noise.
“What was that?” she whispered, gripping a metal pipe she pulled from her belt.
The big man’s eyes lit with interest. “Check it out,” he ordered, motioning with his knife. “And stay sharp.”
The wiry man didn’t hesitate. He moved down the street, following the sound, while the woman circled back, taking a different route through the maze of alleys. I took a breath, testing the air. This was my chance—a sliver of opportunity to shift the balance.
I waited until the wiry man’s footsteps grew faint, the echoes swallowed by the maze of alleys. The scarred woman had her back to me, eyes sweeping over the rooftops as if expecting an ambush from above. The big man lingered, still tense, his posture that of a predator ready to pounce. Every muscle in my body screamed at me to move, to act before the moment passed.
I scanned the alley for anything that could create a distraction. A pile of broken bricks lay a few feet away, half-buried in shadow. With a quick motion, I grabbed one and hurled it into the darkness beyond the scarred woman, making it clatter loudly against the rusted gate. Her head snapped in the direction of the sound, eyes narrowing as she took a step forward, pipe raised.
The big man’s attention shifted as well, his grip on the knife tightening. He glanced at the scarred woman and barked, “Go.”
Without hesitation, she moved toward the sound, muscles coiled and ready to strike. The tension eased in my chest as their formation broke, leaving the big man momentarily alone. I took a step back, calculating my next move. I could slip out the way I came or follow the scarred woman’s path and take a chance to learn more about the Red Hands' operation.
Before I could decide, the big man’s head jerked slightly, as if he heard something beyond the rustling wind and distant city noise. His eyes locked onto the alleyway I hid in, the sharp glint in his gaze confirming what I’d feared—he’d sensed me.
“Found you,” he growled, stepping forward with measured confidence.
My breath caught, but I forced myself to stay calm. The game was up. If I wanted answers, I’d have to fight for them.