Debt of Souls

Chapter 7

The first of the pursuers stepped into the station, a tall man in a tactical jacket, rifle glinting under his flashlight. 

Three others flanked him, weapons ready. Their faces were marked by faint blue sigils, the Game’s insignia, glowing faintly on their skin. The leader smirked. “Nice hideout. Shame it’s your last.”

Charlie fired first. The shot took out a light, plunging half the platform into darkness. The attackers flinched, just enough for Kessler to spring the trap. 

The tripwire snapped, sending a metal bench crashing onto the nearest player. He shouted in pain, pinned under twisted metal.

Charlie ducked behind a pillar as bullets ripped through the station. Sparks flew where rounds struck tiles. Lucas bolted for the stairwell, clutching his tablet and breathing hard. “I’ll find the route!”

“Run!” Charlie shouted.

Kessler lunged from cover, swinging the rebar. He cracked one attacker across the jaw, dropping him. 

The leader fired, Charlie felt the bullet whip past his cheek. He returned fire, forcing them back toward the tunnel.

The pinned player groaned, struggling to free himself. Another attacker dragged him away, shouting curses.

The leader’s voice turned cold. “You’re making enemies you can’t afford, Charlie!”

Charlie growled, “Join the club.”

Overhead, the station lights flickered wildly, the Game’s symbols crawled along the cracked walls again, glowing brighter, feeding on the chaos. Kessler ducked behind a broken vending machine. “We can’t stay here.”

Charlie’s gaze followed the holographic arrow. “Then we don’t.”

Charlie darted toward the stairwell, covering Kessler as they retreated. Bullets sparked off tile and shattered a long-dead departure board. Lucas’s frantic footsteps echoed up ahead, growing fainter.

Kessler vaulted a broken railing and landed beside Charlie, rebar still in hand. “We won’t outrun them forever.”

“We don’t have to,” Charlie said, eyes sharp. “We just need distance.”

They scrambled up the cracked stairs two at a time, emerging into a narrow service alley behind a row of silent, shuttered shops. 

Night cloaked Frankfurt’s financial district, its skyscrapers gleaming like silent sentinels in the distance.

Lucas waited by a graffiti-tagged dumpster, breathless but clutching his tablet. “Two more squads pinged nearby. The Safe Zone’s going to be crawling.”

Kessler glanced up at the glowing arrow that pulsed in midair. “Then we go through the Westhafen docks. Less traffic.”

Charlie adjusted the briefcase strap and scanned the shadows. A distant siren wailed, distorted by the wind. “Move. Now.”

They ran, weaving through alleys slick with rain. Every corner felt like an ambush waiting to happen. 

Once, a trash can toppled behind them, a stray cat, but Charlie still spun, gun raised, pulse hammering. Lucas whispered, “This is madness. The whole city’s playing this Game.”

Kessler replied, “No. Whole city’s prey.”

They emerged onto an overpass overlooking the Main River. Barges moved sluggishly on the water, their lights winking through the mist. 

The Safe Zone’s icon hovered above the far bank, pulsing like a heartbeat. Suddenly, the air shimmered, digital static bleeding into reality. 

Four glowing figures materialized on the bridge ahead, blocking the path. Their faces were masked, their outlines glitching as if reality itself struggled to contain them.

One of them stepped forward, voice distorted by some modulator. “Charlie… you’ve advanced quickly. Too quickly. The Game doesn’t like outliers.”

Kessler muttered, “Not players. Enforcers.”

The tallest figure’s mask flared with a crimson sigil. “Hand over the asset. Or this city will erase you.”

Lucas’s breath hitched. “Charlie.”

Charlie’s grip on the pistol tightened. His heart pounded, not just from fear, but from the memory of being beaten and left for dead. He wasn’t that man anymore. “Not a chance,” Charlie said, his voice low and lethal.

The Enforcers raised their hands. Energy crackled between their fingers, coalescing into jagged spears of light. The asphalt underfoot began to warp, reality bending under their power.

Kessler leaned close, whispering without taking his eyes off them. “If we shoot, they’ll scatter and box us in. We need a distraction.”

Before Charlie could answer, the bridge shuddered. A container truck barreled onto the overpass from the opposite side, horn blaring, its driver oblivious to the Game’s digital phantoms. 

The Enforcers turned in unison. Charlie seized the moment. “Go!”

They sprinted for the guardrail, vaulting over just as the Enforcers unleashed a volley of energy spears. 

One grazed Charlie’s leg, scorching through denim and skin. He hit the embankment hard, rolling through wet grass.

Above, the truck jackknifed, the Enforcers scattered as steel screamed against asphalt. Flames erupted, casting hellish light over the river.

Charlie staggered to his feet, clutching his burned thigh. Kessler grabbed his arm, hauling him forward. 

Lucas scrambled down the embankment after them. “Safe Zone’s a kilometer away!” Lucas shouted.

Behind them, the Enforcers regrouped at the ruined bridge, their glowing forms silhouetted against the inferno. One raised a hand, and the flames bent unnaturally, coiling like serpents.

The tallest Enforcer’s voice carried across the river, distorted and cold: “Run, Charlie. The Game always collects.”

Charlie’s pulse thundered. The riverbank path stretched ahead, lit only by distant streetlamps and the pulsing Safe Zone marker. His thigh burned, his chest ached, but the briefcase was still secure.

They ran into the darkness as the bridge collapsed behind them, the roar of twisted steel and rushing water chasing them like an angry god.