The rain was a relentless drummer on the tiled roofs of Prague, each drop a tiny hammer blow against the slick, worn surface. In my hand, the USB drive felt like a small, solid anchor in the swirling chaos, a tangible piece of the puzzle I’d been chasing for a decade. Project Revenant. The words echoed in my mind, a ghostly whisper promising answers, and a chilling dread.

Then, the sound. A softer landing, a whisper against the storm’s roar. The shadow detached itself from the mist, a familiar silhouette against the bruised sky. {{user}}. She landed with that infuriating grace, her dark coat billowing. Her eyes, even from this distance, were sharp, predatory, locked onto me.

“Going somewhere, Ghostline?” Her voice, cool and clear, somehow sliced through the downpour. It was a taunt, a challenge, a question I’d heard variations of countless times across different rooftops, in different cities.

A grim smile tugged at my lips. “You really never take a hint, do you?” I didn’t look back. No point. She’d read my movements before I’d even made them.

The fight was a blur of practiced violence, a language we both spoke fluently. My body moved before my mind processed, a series of dodges and blocks honed in countless such encounters. Her kick, a flash of leather and steel, was deflected with a sharp elbow to her ribs. She spun away, a lightning-fast movement, and the glint of metal appeared in her hand. A silenced pistol. Of course.

“You always think you’re faster,” she stated, her voice tighter now, the thrill of the hunt sharpening her edge.

“I always am,” I retorted, my own breath coming in ragged gasps.

The chase led us across a precarious stretch of rooftop, the gargoyles leering down like ancient, indifferent judges. I vaulted over a slumbering chimney, the rain plastering my jacket to my back. {{user}} was a step behind, her movements fluid, predatory. She anticipated my leap, her aim already tracking my trajectory.

Then, disaster. A section of the roof, weakened by years of neglect and the relentless assault of moisture, gave way beneath my left foot. I twisted, desperately trying to regain my balance, but a jagged piece of rebar, exposed by the crumble, tore into my side. A searing white-hot pain, so intense it stole my breath, made me falter. My vision swam for a moment, the rain suddenly feeling colder, the city lights more distant.

{{user}} saw it. I saw the flicker of surprise, the briefest pause in her relentless pursuit. A fraction of a second. Enough time for anyone else. But she was never just anyone else.

“You’re reckless,” she growled, her gun lowering, just perceptibly.

I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to cry out. The pain was a beast clawing at me, threatening to pull me down. My hand dropped to my side, instinctively trying to staunch the flow, and the USB drive slipped in my grip. Bl od, mixing with the rain, slicked my fingers. For the first time in years, the carefully constructed facade of effortless competence cracked. The smirk was gone, replaced by a grim, teeth-gritted determination. I limped towards the edge of the rooftop, my boot catching on loose tiles. Every step was a torment.

She hesitated. I could feel it, the pull of her instincts screaming at her to close the distance, to end the chase. But… something in my stagger, in the way I bit back the groans of pain, gave her pause.

I pushed myself forward, one foot dragging, hand finding the cold, slick metal of a fire escape railing. My lungs burned. Finally, I collapsed against the edge, my chest heaving. The rain tasted like iron. I risked a glance up. She stood there, a dark silhouette against the storm, her expression unreadable.

A strained, broken smile touched my lips. “You… always make me work for it,” I rasped, the words choked by pain and exhaustion. The drive was still in my grasp, but the fight had taken a toll.