The air cut through my face as I moved through the shadows of the buildings, evading the curious glances of the purple jackets patrolling the skies. The city lights, obscured by the recent chaos, cast distorted shadows over the deserted alleys and streets. Every step I took, the pains from the previous impact reverberated through my body, but the urgency of the situation prevented me from succumbing to weakness.
The desperation lingering in the atmosphere was palpable, reflected in the hurried and fearful faces of the few pedestrians venturing through the streets. Pomodoro had launched his terrorist attack, plunging the city into a state of chaos and fear. My wounded body was a silent witness to this act of destruction, but my mind was fixed on a single task: getting home, where my mother rested in her life support capsule.
Upon spotting the purple jackets patrolling the area, my instincts compelled me to vanish into the shadows. I lowered my balaclava to cover my face, and like a specter, I melded into the building shadows, hiding from the sharp gaze of the jackets. The climb was a familiar ritual, a ballet across the rooftops, where I moved like a fleeting shadow.
The top of the building became my temporary refuge. The pulsating pain in my body was a constant reminder of reality, but I knew I couldn't stop. The purple jackets floated in the skies like relentless sentinels, searching for any signs of suspicious activity. Their vigilant gazes swept through every alley and corner of the city.
With controlled momentum, I slid between the bars, hanging onto the beams as my body spun in the air. I landed silently on the top of the next building, where the scene repeated. Every calculated movement, every jump was a rehearsed choreography in the dance of escape.
The city was engulfed in an atmosphere of oppression, and I, a clandestine dancer, traced my path across the city's rooftops. My goal was in sight, my home, where my mother rested in a life support capsule. Each step closer was a step toward what remained of my normalcy.
The next leap was in the air, my body spinning like an arrow, aiming for the next building. The void between the buildings was my dance floor, but in the midst of the spiral, my gaze crossed with a purple jacket, an unwelcome figure that materialized in my blind spot.
My heart raced, and an intense adrenaline flooded my body as I realized the imminent pursuit. The rotation of my body sped up as the purple jacket, in its imposing suit, launched toward me. An urgent shout echoed through the space between us, and the impending impact became unavoidable. With the remaining agility in my sore body, I accelerated the rotation, desperately seeking to escape the imminent collision. The air hummed around me, a chaotic symphony accompanying the risky dance over the rooftops of a city in turmoil.
The impact of my feet on the top of the building echoed along with the pulsating pains in my body. Adrenaline propelled me to continue, but a quick glance behind indicated that my pursuer, the Purple Jacket, would not give up easily. Without a pause to catch my breath, I dove back into the dizzying dance between the buildings.
The Purple Jacket shouted orders for me to stop, but urgency prevented me from listening. Evasive maneuvers became my mantra, each jump and spin an attempt to confuse and elude. The sound of heavy footsteps and the Purple Jacket's labored breathing echoed behind me, but I didn't allow myself to look back. The city was my labyrinth, and I ran in search of an exit.
Sliding between narrow edges and jumping from platform to platform, I raced through narrow corridors and unexpected openings. It was a dangerous choreography, a desperate dance between escape and pursuit. With every move, I felt the wind cut my face, while the voice of the Purple Jacket blended with the sounds of the tumultuous city.
In a bold leap, I attempted an unusual maneuver. At the peak of an arrow-like jump, I turned my baton, leveraging the momentum for a surprise attack. Adrenaline pulsed through my veins as I saw the Purple Jacket accelerating toward me. With trained agility, I slid the baton between my hands, concentrating all the force at the moment of impact.
The blow hit the Purple Jacket squarely in the face, a metallic sound reverberated through the air, and for a moment, the pursuit seemed to freeze. I gained a brief respite as my pursuer staggered, momentarily stunned. Time was my momentary ally.
Without wasting time, I continued my escape, vanishing into the shadows and urban corridors. Each movement was a dance between skill and urgency. The city, a chaotic stage, watched my unrestrained flight. Behind me, the Purple Jacket resumed the chase, determined to fulfill their mission.
The night became an accomplice to my escape as I sought refuge in dark corners and narrow alleys. My body ached, but determination compelled me to press on. It wasn't just a matter of evading the Purple Jacket; it was the quest for my mother's safety and a momentary reprieve from the chaos that Pomodoro unleashed upon New Eden.
The wind cut across my face as I ran along the rooftop, preparing for the next leap. My muscles tense, senses sharpened by urgency, and my heart beating in time with the challenge ahead. The city of New Eden stretched below me, a nocturnal landscape where lights sparkled like urban stars.
However, the serenity of the night was abruptly shattered when the shirt enveloping my body turned into shades of red. A tongue click echoed in the recesses of my mind, indicating that the Purple Jacket had used their abilities to pierce my back. A peculiar sensation of discomfort replaced any sign of pain. The gravity of the situation became evident: my body began to fall from the top of the building, a free fall of more than two hundred floors toward the void.
As my body plunged into the nocturnal abyss, the Purple Jacket disappeared into the shadows, ready to pursue its prey. I rotated my body, facing the rapidly approaching ground, and waited, powerless, for the impact to unfold. The void below seemed to stare back at me, an unavoidable inevitability.
"Wake up." A voice echoed amid the turmoil of the fall. A call that transcended physical reality. My eyes opened, and I frantically searched for the source of the voice, but all I saw was the abyss. "Wake up." The voice repeated, and an uncomfortable sensation reverberated in the scars scattered across my body, resurrecting old memories of pain and mystery.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
Instinctively, I reached for my shoulder, tracing the path of the scars that marked my skin. The voice persisted, insistent. "Wake up." For the third time, the command was proclaimed, and I, just a few meters from impact, murmured in a despair that echoed in the void. "Wake up."
The impending collision gave way to a strange sensation. My body dissipated into dense mist, concealing the inevitable meeting with the ground. Then, my form reconstructed itself, standing on the ground, hands still pressed against my chest. Discomfort transformed into revelation when I realized I had awakened my Incarnation.
The Purple Jacket, surprised by the turn of events, advanced toward me. Without hesitation, I resumed running at ground level, escaping the shadows that attempted to envelop me. My mind still absorbed the incredulity of what had just happened. A new force pulsed within me, a connection to something greater and unknown.
Urban lights flickered around me as I continued running through the city's shadows. Each step was a painful reminder of the wound on my back, an injury inflicted by the nefarious abilities of the Purple Jacket. Blood pulsed in my ears, an agitated soundtrack echoing the urgency of my escape.
However, exhaustion began to accumulate, turning my muscles into steel threads on the verge of breaking. My legs trembled, threatening to give way at any moment. I knew I couldn't continue indefinitely at that pace, but the need to escape kept me moving forward.
The pain in my spine radiated, and my body begged for rest. Darkness threatened to engulf me, and I felt my energy being drained, as if the city itself conspired against my escape. My senses were blurred, but I couldn't stop. Each corner turned seemed to bring the Purple Jacket even closer, their abilities distorting the reality around me.
In a final desperate effort, propelled by the instinct for survival, I made one last leap towards a narrow alley. The wind whistled in my ears as my body soared through the air. Landing on the rough ground of the alley was like a shock to my bones, but it was the temporary refuge I needed.
The Purple Jacket approached, a sinister presence filling the alley. My legs faltered, and I struggled to stay upright. In the eyes of my pursuer, I read the certainty of imminent capture. The ominous purple jacket enveloped their body, indicating their elite position in New Eden. I couldn't fight against them in my weakened state.
Facing the Purple Jacket, I took a deep breath, my body still pulsing with the adrenaline of the escape. "There's nowhere else to run," they declared with a cold voice, echoing in the narrow alley like a somber verdict. My mind worked frantically, seeking an escape, a loophole in the imminent stalemate.
My hand found my staff, an extension of my will, but now it seemed fragile compared to the threat before me. Nevertheless, I raised it in a defensive position, an instinctive gesture in the face of the inevitable. The Purple Jacket advanced, each step echoing the gravity of the situation. I could feel time stretching, the tension in the air reaching its peak.
A few meters away, the Purple Jacket stopped, observing me like a predator assessing its prey before the final attack. The narrow alley turned into a claustrophobic arena, and I felt cornered between their superhuman abilities and my own vulnerability.
The exchange of glances was intense, a silent dance between the hunter and the hunted. Amidst the darkness of the alley, I knew I could no longer run. It was time to confront my fate head-on, even if it meant facing the inevitable.
My body twitched involuntarily as the Purple Jacket initiated the identification process. The feeling of helplessness overwhelmed me, and I resignedly accepted the destiny unfolding before my eyes. "Aidan Winters, huh?" The voice of the Purple Jacket resonated, and I felt their gaze pierce my soul through the fabric of the balaclava.
The identification scan was swift, but for me, each second stretched like an eternity. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to be enveloped by the imminent darkness. My mind was in turmoil, thoughts flying like directionless birds. I had paid off my mother's debt, but at too high a cost.
Beneath the balaclava, my face revealed a sad expression. Words were unnecessary; my situation was clear as day. I wouldn't have the chance to see her again, not even through the cold glass of a life support capsule. The bitter irony of the situation hit me like a punch to the stomach.
Aiden Winters, at sixteen, facing his death sentence.
In the silence that settled, I allowed a sad smile to cross my face. My eyes remained closed, but my mind took a final inventory. I couldn't develop my Incarnation, didn't tell the girl I loved about my feelings, didn't see my mother one last time, didn't bid farewell to friends and colleagues at the academy, and didn't even get to say goodbye to Pomodoro's spies. My life, though so brief, seemed filled with regrets and missed opportunities.
Then, at the peak of resignation, a muffled voice broke the sepulchral silence. "A... a White Jacket? What the hell, why the hell... damn it, are you a White Jacket?! Did I just kill a White Jacket?!" The disbelief in the Purple Jacket's voice echoed in my ears, and I felt a spark of confusion ignite amid my own darkness.
My eyes opened, meeting his. The shock plastered on his face reflected the unexpected turn of events. However, I couldn't afford to dwell on that. There was still a chance, a crack in the impending darkness.
Without thinking, I seized the opportunity, propelling myself backward with force. My legs, which moments ago threatened to give way, gained a life of their own. The narrow alley turned into a corridor of escape, and I ran with the remaining vigor, surpassing the Purple Jacket in their own bewilderment.
Adrenaline pulsed through my veins, and the instinct for survival guided me through alleys and narrow streets. Each step, despite the pain, was an act of defiance against the fate that seemed to have sealed my end. The sound of my own footsteps echoed off the cold walls of the city, blending with my labored breath. There was no time to look back; I could only move forward, toward the uncertainty unfolding before me.
The echo of the message invaded my ears as I panted, leaning against the cold wall of a narrow alley. "I need the whole squad, a White Jacket has been injured, I repeat, a White Jacket has been injured." The voice of my pursuer resonated, broadcasting my vulnerability to anyone who could hear. With each word, my heart raced, and I knew time was running out.
The throbbing pain in my spine made me bite my lips to stifle any screams. Every movement was agony, but I couldn't afford to stop. With superhuman effort, I dragged myself away from the scene of the confrontation, moving slowly like a shadow trying to escape the light.
Then, a moment of respite—or perhaps a trap. The approach of footsteps made my tense body coil, and I prepared for the worst. "Sir... this... this being doesn't understand what it did, let me... let me help you." The voice of the Purple Jacket sounded, carrying a tone of desperation. He was there, standing in front of me, offering help. His green eyes pierced mine, and something in that gaze betrayed a genuine intention.
I yielded to the Purple Jacket's support, allowing him to help me stay on my feet. I, who minutes ago was his prey, was now in his care. An injection was administered into my body, and I felt the effects almost immediately. A wave of warmth spread, replacing some of the pain with a strange numbness.
"This should help stabilize you," he said, and I took a deep breath, savoring each inhale as if it were a luxury soon to be taken away. Still masked by the balaclava, I stared at him, my vacant gaze meeting his. A silent communication established itself between us, a temporary truce in a deadly game.
Then, driven by an impulse, I lied. "You messed everything up; if my cover is blown, everything will be destroyed," I uttered, using the weakness in my voice as part of the act. The Purple Jacket, believing the charade, was entangled in the fictional plot I was weaving. The lie, however, was a one-way path. A choice that would seal my fate as a White Jacket, with all the consequences that this identity implied.
We walked together in the shadows, my former pursuer and I, both now immersed in a crossroads of destinies. The city pulsed around us, indifferent to the theater unfolding in its alleys and streets. The scent of decay and filth permeated the air, a cruel metaphor for the situation I had created for myself.
The Purple Jacket remained by my side, and his concerned expression evidenced a plot I had fabricated. However, the lie was a double-edged sword, and I found myself increasingly entangled in its complexity as destiny continued to cast its cards upon the board of my fleeting existence.