The Relentless Chase
Choice meant lowering her center of gravity into a crouch as Tiny Bell darted across the alley. The painter had already rounded the fourth corner, but she was closing the gap in seconds. No matter his direction, red trajectories unfolded in her vision, mapping his every move.
'I can catch him easy.' Escaping a proxy's reflexes was damn near impossible for any normal human. Especially with her tracking-enhanced ability. Her eyes flared brighter red, and she bolted along the shortest path straight to him.
The painter figured he'd shaken her. That delusion shattered with a sharp thud—just thirty meters away in the next alley, silver hair, fluttering proxy uniform, and crimson eyes stared him down. His face twisted in disgust.
"Ha— you're a fucking monster."
In that split second as she lunged, he kicked a pile of bricks at his feet, blinding her temporarily.
Boom!
"Ugh—"
Bell twisted mid-air to dodge the shards. Seizing the opening, he wall-kicked, grabbed a signboard, and vaulted panting over the building wall.
"Stop right there!"
Her shout echoed at his back. Breath burning his throat, he never glanced behind. He calculated obstacles ahead with grim desperation—next, next, next route.
"Like hell I'm stopping, you monster brat."
He toed between a water barrel and metal trash can, launching airborne. Momentum carried him to an iron ladder; he vanished over the far wall.
"Haa—not your average painter, huh."
Bell spat annoyance, stomped debris for launch, and bounded onto a nearby streetlamp. Perched, she scanned fast. The wide central square bustled below. Mordun's shop from her last visit with the team stood out clear.
'Square's coming. Crowd'll make it harder.'
She kicked off to a nearby rooftop. He glanced warily from the alley, bolting for the square—nearly slipped on trash but recovered.
"Damn it!"
Grazed the wall; dirt smeared his arm. Thumps overhead—he whipped his head up.
Low shop roof. Bell had scaled it cat-smooth, gliding with impossible daring for her petite frame.
"How the hell does that body get up there? Shit."
Distance closing fast again, he cursed and sprinted. Bell pursued across roofs. Spotting a building gap, she leaped, snagged the lamppost tip, swung her legs gymnast-style, and landed opposite with a thud!
A few below looked up.
"Proxy?"
Murmurs rose, but Bell ignored them, slicing across the roof after the painter. He zigzagged erratic narrow gaps toward the square—no quit in him, just twisting her pursuit.
"Tch, slippery bastard…"
She paused cat-crouched, caught her breath, eyed the packed square. He'd melted into the throng. His desperation screamed knowledge of the incident.
'Damn, into the square…'
Overlapping heat signatures and motions blurred her sense. She moved—signboard foothold to roof again. Fluid, overwhelming agility. Atop a square-overlooking perch, she scanned: gazes, steps, gestures. No blatant runner, but unnatural flow amid the rhythm—solo amid the merge.
'Where are you.'
Time ticked; her eyes locked. One man—feigning casual, walking alone. Shoulders heaving ragged breaths unlike the crowd. Gripped something communicator-shaped. Civilians didn't carry those.
Gotcha.
'Hate drawing eyes… no choice.'
Frown creased; she rose silent, dove from the edge skyward.
Boom!
Center square—she cratered in. Stones sprayed; uniform billowed. Screams erupted.
"What the—?!"
Buzz swelled, but her gaze pinned the man. He blanched, whipped toward an alley, bolted afresh.
Chasing him back into alleys, distance shrank—but a red silhouette charged dead-on from another.
'Backup?'
Bell clocked the speed, inhaled sharp.
'Proxy? Not Adolf—smaller build.'
Feminine silhouette. Alley cross—she tsked, eased speed. Collision risk; ally unknown.
Robed figure burst forth, hurled something at the braced Bell. Dagger sliced air—clean, precise.
Whoosh!
Bell dodged amused, head tilt. It grazed her collar, thunked into a sign behind.
She glared at the robed woman. Speed screamed non-human. Who hurls at a proxy uniform?
The figure heaved breaths. Painter's silhouette faded; Bell deactivated.
'Lost him. She'll block full-out.'
Blue eyes returned; she scowled.
"You're Lin Kseszbet, right?"
"Haha—"
Faint feminine laugh leaked from the robe. Fresh dagger gleamed in hand. Hesitated—then shed the robe. Proxy collar. Neat black bob, eyes honed cold-steel. Second dagger drawn.
"Meant to help—didn't know it was you, Captain. Saw you chasing."
Lin smirked, advanced.
"Help? Knew it was me—still threw."
Bell iced back. No courtesy for a threat and prime suspect.
"Why interfere, Lieutenant Kseszbet?"
"Interfere? Just aiding. Not combat branch, you know. Forgive my clumsiness."
Lin voiced regret, stomach twisting inwardly. Younger stunner aside—0th gen combat proxy grated. Sucking proxy perks, parading a Harkken like an aide. Thoughts churned her. Dagger grip tightened.
Bell whipped out her revolver. Lin flinched—but barrel down, mere counter-threat: you draw, I draw.
Eyes narrowed on Lin. Painter gone; quiz her.
"That mural—you really wanted to flaunt it, huh?"
Bone-deep prod. Lin grimaced instinctive, smoothed fast. Regretted loosing the painter. Should've mangled his hands for that stunt. Civilian would've spilled under torture.
She smirked.
"Me? What'd I do for that suspicion? Mural impressed me too."
"Ah, that blue vial in it—impressive too?"
"Dunno. Blue vial in a mural… standard church symbol. Devout icon. No clue what it means."
"Pope already spilled—you supplied the Luminot."
Voice sank low.
"Bureau report by end of day. Probe on you next."
"Oh? Really?"
Lin's pupil twitched micro—glitchy mechanical. Bell reactivated; cornered folk unpredictable.
Red eyes flared; Lin gnashed teeth. She calculated fastest: no winning fight here. Saving painter long-game smart—but escape now migraine.
Feigned ease.
"Innocent here. Full cooperation."
"Stirring protests, overarming militia. Inhumane Luminot tests. If true—you're done."
Lin snapped real-heat.
"Not true. No issue."
"Sure? Then why fan Bonyak-Harkken feud?"
Bell edged closer. Lin retreated—but escape futile; she knew. Brainstormed answers.
Bell supplied casual.
"Show off like the painter? As the puppetmaster."
"Wh-what."
"Drew Lumen Guard eyes. Remar's inaction? Intervene, bureau scapegoat."
Truth-grazing guess.
"Speculation."
"Bureau leaked Luminot for tests—conflict smokescreen? Or ego flex?"
Sneer landed; Lin's face warped ugly. Dismissed as pretty lucky kid—words carved cold through heart. Exposed. Trembled. To this tiny bitch. All inverting; dagger hand quivered.
I'm chosen. Why this shit.
Early joys: Bonyaks dancing on her strings. Chaisi Brown's Harkken fling idiocy. Her grand ritual proxy-making. Fun. Pope faith-shattered. Kids death-driven conflicted. Bonyaks self-serving. All fools.
Later: bureau slays kids for cover. Neat plan. Smooth flow. Overreached. Arrogance. Protest 'message': 'Cease god-defying.' Remar eyed faked reports, stood idle. Knew Remar-pope meet. Remar wary—no protester touch. Halt there.
If Grand Marshal bait… His barrier meddling known. Suffocating.
"Damn… I fucked it all."
Mutter barely audible.
Bell head-tilted.
"What?"
"Show-off? Bullshit. Holy war close. Dead or alive, you wouldn't get it."
Lin glared fury. Rage boiled; Bell slow-cocked revolver.
Click!
Both jolted, eyed wrists blank. Command wrist-receiver beeped frantic; tiny hologram bloomed.
Bell registered mild shock at the Grand Marshal's arrival. Lin's face drained corpse-pale.
"Gotta head back. Perfect timing for your probe."
Bell hopped to the railing. Back-turn risky—planned roof vault.
"Oh, and."
Before leaping:
"Stay off Adolf Mandel this time. Misunderstandings are a pain."
Cold jab; she vanished overhead. Lin quaked humiliation-rage, bolted for Mordun's shop.