As a hunter had to hunt, prey had to flee. He scurried ultimately before finding his back against a wall.

His breathing was heavy, his face red as a cherry, sweat pouring from his brow. He looked up and saw a dead end. His eyes darted from side to side, searching for another solution to his problem. He felt like a mouse trying to find the exit of a maze.

Excitement pulsed through him as he scanned his surroundings and spotted a fire escape. It appeared to be his lucky break—it wasn’t properly secured and was easily within his reach. Without hesitation, he leaped to seize the bottom of the ladder, steadied himself, and started the ascent to the roof.

He made sure to steal glances from his surroundings.

“Lost ’em.”

Once on the roof, he started running once more before coming to the ledge to see a neighboring rooftop he could make. Taking the leap was easy as he couldn’t afford to be hung up on being caught.

He cleared the ledge and moved as quickly as he possibly could. 

Despite being on the roof, there were still obstacles in his way. But if they hinder him, they will impede his pursuer. 

Shuffling under a clothesline, he noticed another rooftop he could reach.

He landed and quickly spun on his heel, then made another sharp turn to leap from the roof to a balcony wrapped around the corner of another building.

Some of his landings could have been better, but they were successful. He cared not for looking fancy nor for the pottery that he had knocked over by accident. The goal was to move quickly and sporadic to throw off any pursuers.

He continued to jump from one balcony to the next. He eventually reached the end of his ropes, only to be forced to enter an individual’s home in the middle of ironing. 

His trousers were far too wrinkly to sport for today’s evening date, which called for the impromptu measure to tackle such creases. However, since it was the privacy of his own home, he was sporting nothing more than a tank top and undergarments when he noticed someone come in unexpectedly from his balcony.

““Oh.”” They both went. The two seemed perplexed by the surprise.

The intruder pulled out from underneath his jacket a small object that unfolded at the flick of his wrist.

One had a gun, while the other had a scorching piece of steel. They knew who had the upper hand.

Startled, he raised his hands in submission, iron and all, his purple lilac boxer briefs in full view. 

The goldfish sat by on a nearby countertop, watching the whole thing unfold live as if on paper view. It had the best seats in the house, in the front row, right in the splash zone. 

*GLUB-GLUB*

The intruder kept his gun trained on the individual who held hot steel in one hand. He slowly inched his way around, making sure they understood their circumstances. 

Once cleared, he darted through the front door out of the apartment and into the main hall.

The path forged for him was to sprint down the hall and up the stairs until he came to the roof. His head was on a swivel, his heart beating out of his chest. He looked around once more as a second insurance. No one had followed. Rather, they couldn’t keep up.

A giant sigh of relief left his deflated chest. 

Running for one’s life sure is exhausting. The man realized he had been out of shape. If only he had kept up from his younger days. Days that only seemed like distant memories. 

Sure, the man appeared to be in his late twenties, but that only made it more embarrassing for him when thinking of it. Then, he realized his leg was starting to cramp up—not just his leg but his lower back as well. He began stretching, extending himself backward to relieve his lumbar region. By placing his hands on his knees to collect himself, his gaze fell to his shoes. There, he noticed something was off. 

While he believed he had put on some pounds, he didn’t think he had gotten so large. What his shadow was currently reflecting didn’t seem accurate compared to his last visit to the mirror.

He turned around to see a young lady with wavy hair in a violet plum jacket. She was neither sweating nor out of breath.

Peskott hopped down from her perched station and approached, one foot over the other. 

In one last ditch effort, he whipped out his weapon by his side, which was only for Peskott to anticipate. She knocked the gun out of his hand.

With desperation in his eyes, he tried to give her the left hook. However, she blocked and parried before making a quick jab to the man’s throat. He fell to his knees, gasping for air. He tried with his other arm, but Peskott caught it and struck back in response, dislocating it. 

The man now had succumbed to his resignation. There was no way he could win.

She grabbed the pleading man by his collar, pulling his face closer to hers. She wanted to read every expression closely, squinting her eyes and staring into his as if trying to see deep into his soul, which petrified him. Fear approached from all corners of his mind.

In a calm tone, Peskott asked while locking eyes with him, “Who is your contact?”

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t understand the term contact, only that there was someone selling guns for personal use. He could only mutter a few words as he was stricken with fear. He opted for the truth immediately in the hope that she would treat him kindly. 

Peskott read his lips as he uttered the name, her eyes widening in realization of whom he spoke. She released him and picked up the weapon to examine it.

“Interesting,” she mumbled as her hands ran along the side of the weapon. This design…

*BAAABOOOOOOOOM*

Suddenly, there was an explosion that made Peskott whip her head backward. From the sound, it wasn’t that far. However, she then realized that it was in the direction that Elias had sprinted off. 

It was as if time had frozen for her. Realizing the circumstances, she quickly dashed off towards her new destination, navigating the rooftops of the buildings in the most optimal path. 

Unlike her target, who had haphazardly taken the longest, most convoluted path possible, she knew every corner of these rooftops. Her speed was unmatched, as she was quick and agile, maneuvering from one rooftop to another. Distance from each obstacle—none of it slowed her B-line to her objective. 

In mere moments, the side street appeared in view. 

Just as quickly as she got there, she swiftly leaped over the ledge to descend to street level, her feet touching down gracefully like a cat. Her heart raced, her gaze darting in all directions. 

She paced back and forth, glancing everywhere.

Where, where, where? 

Something was out of place. Peskott looked around, but the fact that she couldn’t find a body threw her off. 

She paused.

Out of the corner of her eye, something caught her attention.

Now looming over it, she could see something red like wine yet thicker than water. It sat in a crack between two stones. The trail was short as it lingered just a few paces past the archway to the main street.

Visibly upset, Peskott clicked her tongue in resistance. Things were piecing together as she looked over the scene once more. She didn’t want to acknowledge it, but it seemed the one she was responsible for had gotten hurt and taken.