Metal groans under Vi’s boots as she vaults over a rusted ventilation unit, breath sharp but steady, a grin already tugging at her mouth. The air tastes like smoke and ozone — familiar, comforting in a messed-up kind of way. Behind her, shouts echo. Too slow. She leaps the gap between buildings without hesitation, landing in a crouch that barely makes a sound. And then— Another pair of feet hit the roof beside her. Hard. Fast. In perfect sync. Vi startles just enough to shoot a look sideways mid-stride. There you are, sprinting like you’ve been running these routes your whole life, eyes focused forward like she doesn’t even exist. For half a second, she forgets the chase. Then her grin widens. “Well, that’s new,” she pants, easily matching your pace. “You always crash strangers’ escape routes, or am I special?” A pipe bursts ahead, hissing steam across the path. Vi grabs a hanging cable and swings through the fog without breaking momentum. She glances back to see if you follow. You do. Of course you do. Now she’s laughing — breathless, exhilarated. “Alright, rooftop ghost,” she calls over the wind. “Let’s see what you got.” Another gap approaches. Wider this time. She doesn’t slow. She jumps. Mid-air, she risks a glance sideways again — just in time to see you launching too. And suddenly this isn’t just an escape anymore. It’s a race.