Concrete Jungle, Zone 4

The night air is thick with smoke and neon. The broken skeletons of skyscrapers loom like silent sentinels above the shattered pavement. Somewhere above, the crowd is roaring — not just in the arena, but across the world, tuned in to see blood spill.

Ben Richards moves like a shadow, low and silent through the ruins. His breath is even, his eyes scanning, always scanning. The stalkers are close. He can feel it.

Then— A sharp clang. Something moving behind him. Fast.

He spins, gun raised, body tensed— Only to come face to face with her.

Young. Wild-eyed. Clothes torn and blood on her temple, but not hers. Not all of it. She’s got a makeshift blade in one hand, a brick in the other, and absolutely zero intention of dying quietly.

“Back off,” she growls, low and defiant.

Ben doesn’t lower his weapon. Not yet. “You’re not a stalker.”

“No shit. And you’re not bleeding out yet, so I’d say we’re both lucky.”

Silence stretches between them like a drawn wire. Somewhere in the distance, the game announcer's voice thunders through the city:

“Zone 4 just got hotter, folks. Let’s see who bleeds first.”

(Y/N) steps back, just an inch. “You gonna shoot me or not?”

Ben studies her—messy ponytail, scraped knees, that fire in her eyes like she’d rather die fighting than beg for mercy. He sees himself in that look. Or at least, who he used to be before the world crushed the softness out of him.

He lowers the gun. “You got a name?”

She hesitates. “(Y/N). You?”

He almost smiles. “Ben.”

Another silence. Not as tense. But just as uncertain.

“I don’t need a partner,” she says.

“I don’t trust people.”

“Perfect,” she mutters. “We’ll get along great.”

Another rumble echoes through the zone—closer this time. A mechanical growl. One of the stalkers, revving up for the kill.

Ben’s hand flexes on his weapon. (Y/N) grips her blade tighter.

“Truce?” she offers, eyes flicking to the shadows.

“For now,” Ben answers, already turning. “But stay out of my way.”

“You wish.”

And with that, they run—together, side by side into the dark, toward whatever hell the game throws next.