Interior – Bunker War Room – Later
Tom stared at a map—recent locations tied to human trafficking, low-level gang movements, and encrypted message spikes. On a separate screen: a still image of Tammy, blurred slightly, captured mid-smile during the fight.
> TOM (to himself): “What are you hiding?”
He reached over and drew a circle around a location: Rook Street.
> MANNERS (off-screen): “You want to check that out?”
> TOM: “I want to find a trail. Anything.”
> LAYLA (entering): “Then let’s go together.”
Tom looked at her, eyes searching.
> TOM: “Why do you keep fighting, Layla?”
> LAYLA: “Because I believe in what we’re building. Because I believe in you.”
> TOM (after a pause): “You might be the only one who does.”
---
Exterior – Rooftop – Midnight
Later, the three of them stood under the stars.
Tom looked over the city, voice low.
> TOM: “They’re preparing something. You can feel it in the silence.”
> LAYLA: “Then we prepare louder.”
> MANNERS (softly): “I’ve got something in the works. A surprise.”
> TOM: “What kind?”
> MANNERS: “You’ll see. But it’s meant for when you’re ready.”
> TOM: “I don’t know if I ever will be.”
> LAYLA (quiet): “You already are.”
They stood there, together, on the edge of war… but for now, the night was still.
Chapter 12: Hardships
Part 6 – Sixteen Nights
(Some people haunt you without ever saying a word. And sometimes, that’s enough to make you run after them into the dark.)
---
Exterior – Rooftop, Downtown Perch – 11:49 p.m. – Day 1
Tom stood alone. The wind whispered across the skyline, ruffling the edges of his long coat. Ghostfang rested on his back, untouched. His helmet sat beside him, deactivated.
Nothing. Just neon haze and silence.
> TOM (softly): “Where are you?”
He waited.
No reply. No figure in black. Just shadows.
---
Day 4 – 12:27 a.m.
He sat on the edge, feet dangling. A sandwich in one hand, half-eaten. A thermos of coffee in the other.
Still no Tammy. But he wasn’t leaving.
> LAYLA (comms): “You're burning yourself out.”
> TOM: “I’ve been burned before. This is nothing.”
---
Day 8 – 1:03 a.m.
Rain slicked the roof. Tom stood with his hood up, arms crossed. Soaked. Eyes fixed on the horizon like he expected her to rise with the moon.
He stared at every flicker. Every flitting shadow.
Still no sign.
> MANNERS (comms): “You’re chasing smoke, Tom.”
> TOM: “Smoke doesn’t leave scars.”
---
Day 12 – 12:01 a.m.
He’d stopped replying to comms. Layla left food at the top of the stairs now and walked away without a word.
Tom barely touched it.
Every night, he returned.
Watched.
Waited.
---
Day 16 – 2:13 a.m.
Tom crouched, one hand resting on the rooftop ledge.
Something shifted.
A silhouette—graceful, silent, unmistakable—perched across the alley on the next roof. Tammy.
She didn’t speak. She didn’t wave. She just smirked—lips like fire beneath the moonlight.
> TOM (low breath): “There you are…”
She flipped backward off the ledge without warning, body twisting midair before landing in a perfect roll on the fire escape below.
Tom grabbed his helmet, slammed it on, and ran.
---
The Chase Begins
Tammy moved like liquid thunder—vaulting, sliding, leaping rooftop to rooftop with terrifying control. She didn’t look back once.
Tom chased. Grappling hook firing—thunk-thunk-thunk—pulling him over wide gaps. He landed hard, knees screaming from the strain, but he kept going.
> TOM (gritted teeth): “You’re not escaping this time…”
But she wasn’t running to escape.
She was leading him.
She vaulted over a wall. Dropped to a sloped roof. Rolled. Flipped over a chimney and used a tension wire to sling herself forward like a dancer on air.
Tom followed. Slower. He missed the wire, clipped a ledge, and nearly fell—but recovered.
His heart thundered.
> LAYLA (comms, urgent): “Tom? What’s going on?”
> TOM: “Tammy. She’s here.”
> LAYLA: “Tom, wait—!”
He muted her.
---
Exterior – Rooftop Garden – 2:19 a.m.
Tammy landed on a rooftop garden, vines winding through rusted planters. Moonlight bathed her in silver.
Tom landed moments later, sword drawn.
But she was already gone.
Only her voice remained—echoing softly from a speaker embedded in a flower pot.
> TAMMY (recorded): “Getting better, handsome. But not yet.”
Then, silence.
Tom stood alone again—lungs burning, eyes darting, pulse racing.
But this time, he smiled.
Part 7 – Threads in the Dark
(Some people chase ghosts. Others dance with them.)
---
Interior – Unknown Location – High-Rise Loft – 3:02 a.m.
Dim red lights lit the curved walls of the suite. The floor was glass, looking down on the city from above the clouds. A projection played silently on the far wall: Tom running. Grainy footage. Every movement catalogued. Every breath counted.
Tammy stood barefoot, wrapped in a sleek silk robe, katana leaned against the wall beside her. She sipped from a glass of red wine, smiling faintly.
A comms device buzzed on the table.
She answered without turning.
> MALE VOICE (filtered, calm, commanding): “You’ve had time. We agreed—either bring him in or take him out.”
Tammy chuckled softly.
> TAMMY: “I know what we agreed, Daddy.”
She sipped again, eyes still on Tom’s footage.
> MALE VOICE: “He’s becoming a threat. More than the others expected.”
> TAMMY: “That’s what makes him so interesting.”
Silence on the line.
> MALE VOICE: “I didn’t groom you to play games.”
> TAMMY (playful): “You trained me to hunt. I’m hunting.”
She turned at last, her silhouette sharp against the city lights.
> TAMMY: “I just want to see how far he’ll go before he breaks. Or before I do.”
She ended the call.
---
Exterior – Bunker Rooftop – 3:17 a.m.
Tom sat again where he always did—on the edge. His leg still bore the scar from her blade, and he traced it idly through his suit.
He didn’t know why, but he knew she’d watched him tonight. He could feel it.
> TOM (quietly): “Next time… we talk.”
He looked toward the city.
---
Interior – Layla’s Quarters – Same Time
Layla reviewed drone footage. She paused at the moment Tammy had appeared on the 16th night. She zoomed in.
Tammy’s smile. That knowing, dangerous smile.
Layla frowned.
> LAYLA (soft): “What are you doing, Tom…”
---
Interior – Manners’ Lab – Same Time
Manners typed code rapidly, pushing the AI reconstruction further.
A ping interrupted him.
Tammy’s face—pulled from the projection’s grainy footage—mapped onto known datasets.
> MATCH: NOT FOUND
Manners leaned back.
> MANNERS (low): “No ID. No trace. But you made a mistake showing yourself again.”
He looked at Tom’s sword schematics.
Then he started drafting something new.
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