I thought I was done for. Like, really, properly finished. Blood's still dripping from my side, but hey, at least I'm not dead. My legs are screaming, my breath's coming in short gasps, and the pain? Oh, the pain is having a grand old time turning my insides into a battlefield.
The hallway is a mess, crates, debris, and enough dust to make me question my life choices, but none of that matters. What matters is getting out. Moving. Not dying.
I peek around the corner, vision still blurry, and see a guy bolting down the hall like his rent is due. Poor bloke doesn't even know what's behind him. But I do.
A robot. Gliding toward him like some haunted Roomba, its lights flickering in a way that says, "Yeah, you're doomed." Its movements are too smooth, too controlled, like it enjoys the chase.
The guy doesn't stand a chance.
"Wait- no! Please! I've got kids! I have a family!" His voice is pure terror, raw and desperate.
The bot did not care.
Click. Gun. Shot.
One second, he's pleading. The next, he's a lifeless heap on the floor. His limbs are twisted at odd angles, steam rising from the fresh hole in his chest. A burnt, metallic tang fills the air, mixing with the sharp scent of blood.
I swallow hard. My legs aren't exactly working great, but if I don't move, I'll be next.
The bot turns its head, and suddenly, I'm on its radar.
Fantastic.
I do what any rational person would: I run.
Correction: I try to run, which is significantly less cool when one leg is staging a rebellion. The alleyway is too tight, the walls are closing in, and behind me... Yeah, I can hear the bot's metal legs tapping against the ground like it's taking a leisurely jog. Meanwhile, I'm gasping like a fish out of water.
Then… BANG.
White-hot pain explodes in my side, and suddenly, the ground and I are having a very personal moment. My body hits the pavement hard, my brain playing catch-up. Every nerve in my body lights up in protest.
"Oh," I manage, blinking at the sky. "I've been shot. How fun."
The bot steps forward, gun adjusting, red sensor locked onto my very beautiful, fragile skull. The light pulses, scanning me like it's already filing away my obituary.
Then, WHAM.
Something smashes into the bot, sending it sprawling. Sparks fly, metal screeches as it crashes into the debris beside me. And standing over me is a man. Holding an axe. Like this is just another day at the office.
"Well, that's one way to die," the man muttered, wiping his brow.
I struggled to stay on my feet, gritting my teeth against the pain. "Who are you?"
The man raised an eyebrow and took a step closer, eyeing me with a bit of amusement. "You don't look so good, mate. Shouldn't you be grateful I just saved your rear?"
I couldn't help but scowl. "I'm grateful. Just, uh... didn't expect it to go down like this."
"Expected to die alone, did you?" the man said with a faint smirk. "Bit dramatic, mate. Name's Mason. You?"
"Aaron."
Mason cleans his axe on his sleeve, barely acknowledging the wreckage at his feet. "Right, Aaron. Let's get you somewhere safe, yeah? Less robots, more breathing."
I don't trust him much, but hey, he saved my sorry butt, so what choice do I have?