The truck door slams open. You flinch.

Heavy boots splash through a puddle. A rough hand yanks you by the arm. There's no hesitation. No words. Only the weightless drop as he lets go.

Your knees slam into the pavement. Your palms skid across the rough, wet ground. You barely register the sting blooming in your skin.

The man climbs back into the truck. The door slams shut.

You crawl.

Your legs shake as you drag yourself forward, scraped hands leaving faint smears across the concrete. Your breath hitches. The truck pulls away.

You don't stop.

Across the street, Tseng watches. His face is stone. Reno stands beside him, arms loose at his sides, the usual lazy smirk gone. His eyes follow you, narrowing with every trembling step you take.

Your palms slap against the slick road as you crawl. Your knees buckle. You try to stand. Your body gives out.

Headlights swing into view. The horn blares. Tires screech. You never hit the ground.

Tseng's arm wraps around your waist, pulling you off the street in one sharp motion. Your legs dangle. Your fingers clutch weakly at his coat. The truck is gone.

Reno doesn't look away. His jaw clenches. His voice cuts through the rain, quiet but sharp, bitter under his breath.

"That bastard...That...hell he doesn't deserve to breathe."

Tseng’s eyes never leave the empty street. "...That can be arranged."