Ethan's boots crunched on gravel as he crouched at the edge of the last warehouse roof, peering down at the street below. The chain of buildings had run out, leaving a gap too wide to jump—a parking lot stretched between him and the next block, littered with abandoned cars and flickering shadows. The college was two miles away now, its silhouette taunting him through the smoke. He could feel Mia out there, a pull in his gut that wasn't just hope anymore—maybe [Predator Sense], maybe something the system was doing to him. Either way, he was close, and he wasn't stopping.
[Predator Sense] buzzed, sharp and insistent. That big thing a block north was closer now—lumbering steps, a deep growl, the scent of fur and blood. Ethan's sharpened [Perception] caught flickers of movement in the lot below: smaller shapes darting between cars, chittering faintly. More raptors, or something like them. Going down meant running a gauntlet, but staying up here wasn't an option—the rooftops were a dead end, and that pterodactyl could circle back any second.
He adjusted the torn rope around his waist, all six feet of it, and took a breath. His ribs throbbed, his hands were empty, but his body hummed with a strength he didn't recognize—hard-earned from every kill. He'd faced worse than this already. He could do it again.
Ethan slid down the fire escape, landing soft in the lot's shadows. [Predator Sense] snapped into focus—three creatures ahead, skittering between a pickup and a sedan. They were smaller than the lesser raptors, more like oversized turkeys with feathers and claws, hissing as they pecked at something wet on the asphalt. Ethan squinted—blood, human, pooling under a shredded jacket. He swallowed the bile in his throat and crept forward, sticking to the cover of a minivan.
The plan was simple: slip past, stay quiet, keep moving. But [Predator Sense] flared again, a heavier presence closing from the north. The growl rumbled through the lot, vibrating the cars, and the turkey-raptors froze, heads twitching. Ethan ducked lower, peering through a cracked windshield. A massive shape lumbered into view—a bear, but not any bear he'd seen in a zoo. This one was prehistoric, a short-faced monster with a snout full of teeth, standing ten feet at the shoulder. Its fur was matted with gore, and its claws left gouges in the pavement.
The smaller creatures scattered, chittering in panic, and Ethan pressed himself flat against the minivan. The bear sniffed the air, its head swinging toward the bloodied jacket. Ethan's mind raced. He could run now, use the distraction—but [Predator Sense] warned him the bear's reach was long, its speed deceptive. If it spotted him, he'd be dead before he hit the next block.
He needed a weapon. His eyes darted to the pickup's bed—a toolbox, half-open, glinting in the faint light. A hammer stuck out, its handle worn but solid. It wasn't much, but it beat bare hands. Ethan edged toward it, slow and silent, his [Agility] keeping his steps light. The bear growled again, tearing into the jacket with a sickening rip, too focused to notice him—yet.
He reached the toolbox, fingers closing around the hammer just as one of the turkey-raptors darted back into the lot. It screeched, spotting Ethan, and the bear's head snapped up, eyes locking on him. Ethan cursed under his breath and bolted, hammer in hand, as the bear roared and charged.
The lot became a blur—cars flashing past, the ground shaking under the bear's weight. Ethan zigzagged, ducking behind a sedan as the bear's claws swiped, shredding the hood like tinfoil. [Predator Sense] screamed—left, now—and he dove, rolling under a truck as the bear's paw smashed where he'd been. He scrambled out the other side, hammer raised, and swung at the turkey-raptor lunging from his blind spot. The blow cracked its skull, dropping it instantly.
[Monster slain: Dromaeosaur Scout]
[Attributes Gained: +1 Agility]
[Rewards Gained: None]
The rush hit him—legs lighter, reflexes tighter—but the bear was already rounding the truck, jaws wide. Ethan leapt onto the cab, then the roof, hammer clutched like a lifeline. The bear reared, slamming the truck with enough force to tip it. Ethan jumped as it tilted, landing hard on the pavement and sprinting for the lot's edge.
He didn't look back—couldn't. [Predator Sense] tracked the bear's pursuit, its growls fading as he darted into an alley. He kept running, lungs burning, until the sounds died out, replaced by the distant hum of the city's chaos. He slumped against a wall, hammer slick with sweat and blood, chest heaving.
The bear hadn't followed. Maybe it'd lost interest, or the scout's corpse was enough to distract it. Ethan didn't care—he was alive, and that was what mattered. He checked the hammer: heavy, balanced, better than the crowbar. It'd do until he found something sharper.
[Predator Sense] settled, the immediate threats gone. The college was a mile and a half now, past the warehouse district and into the campus sprawl. Mia's dorm was on the east side—third floor, if it was still standing. Ethan wiped sweat from his brow and started moving again, sticking to the alleys.
He'd made it through the gauntlet, but the night wasn't done with him. A faint scream echoed ahead—human, female, too far to be sure. [Perception] sharpened it: young, terrified, coming from the campus direction. Ethan's gut clenched. It could be Mia.
He broke into a run, hammer tight in his fist. "Hold on," he muttered, half-prayer, half-promise. "I'm almost there."