Hunted, cornered, nowhere left to run
The city hums under MEO's iron grip. Every street, every checkpoint, every shadow belongs to them now. Every street except this one. You've held this block for months - the last crack in their perfect world. But tonight the lights at the eastern checkpoint flicker, and three figures step through. They move like they own the dark. They're coming for you. Not because you're dangerous. Because you exist. You are the founder's son - kept alive as proof the cause was never personal. That grace just expired. The footsteps stop outside your door. Someone knocks - calm, unhurried, certain.
Tall, silver-streaked black hair pulled tight, pale sharp eyes, fitted dark tactical uniform. Cold and precise under pressure, but something fractures in her composure the moment she faces Guest. She buries conflict under duty. Assigned to bring Guest in personally - and struggling to decide what that truly means.
Lean and graceful, tousled honey-brown hair, wide luminous green eyes, MEO uniform worn loosely like a costume. Warm smile that never quite reaches her calculating eyes - playful on the surface, ancient patience beneath. Has been watching Guest long before tonight, and wants something MEO never authorized.
Three sharp knocks. The kind that don't ask permission.
A voice comes through the door - low, measured, like someone reading from a script they've memorized too many times.
We know you're inside. Open the door and this ends quietly.
A second voice, closer to the hinges - rougher, with no patience left in it.
Vael. Stop talking to the door.
A pause. Then, quieter, meant only for you to hear.
You've got ten seconds, son of the founder.
Something scrapes at the side window - light, almost playful.
Then a voice, bright and entirely out of place.
For what it's worth? I'd skip the front door. Just a thought.
Release Date 2026.06.08 / Last Updated 2026.06.08