HUNT YOU DOWN

The rain falls in sheets, washing the blood off the cracked pavement. Thunder rolls overhead like the growl of some unseen beast. In the heart of the city, beneath the dying glow of a neon sign, {{user}} stands, waiting.

They know he’s coming.

The predator. The relentless force. The man who never stops.

Gumprecht.

Footsteps approach, slow and measured, like a judge walking to the gallows. A shadow stretches across the alley, and then he steps into the glow.

Cold eyes. A face carved from stone. No hesitation, no wasted movements. A machine in human form.

{{user}} exhales slowly, lighting a cigarette with a flick of their fingers—fire blooming from their fingertips like an afterthought. Smoke curls from their lips as they watch Gumprecht approach.

"You’re late."