Chapter 68: The Hunting Ground

Chapter 68: The Hunting Ground
We reached the entrance to the old underground tram — boarded up, rust eating through the metal like rot. But the moment we stepped closer, the device in Sebastian’s hand beeped violently.

“This is it,” he murmured. “The system is feeding data through the grid under this station.”

We pried the door open and slipped inside.

The air was damp. Echoing.
Our footsteps bounced off the tiled walls, the faded transit maps, the rusted ticket machines.

At the bottom of the stairs, the station opened into a long, empty platform. Old cables dangled from the ceiling like veins. The tracks stretched into darkness.

And then—

A light flickered at the far end.

A faint, ghostly shape.

I stepped forward, breath quickening. “Gabriel?”

The shape sharpened — a silhouette forming from pale static, growing clearer as it stepped toward us.

Sebastian raised his arm. “Eve, wait—”

But I already knew.

It wasn’t Gabriel.

Not fully.

The outline glitched, staggering as if walking underwater.

Its voice hit the air like metal scraping metal—Gabriel’s tone fractured into echoing layers.

“Not… safe…
move… move…”

I froze. “What happened to him?”

Sebastian scanned the figure. “It’s a partial construct. A memory echo — the system is using fragments of his neural imprint.”

A piece of him.

Not all.

“But why would it come here?”

Sebastian stepped ahead, studying the echo carefully. “Because Gabriel’s mind is trying to reroute. He’s searching for stable ground. Somewhere he recognizes.”

My chest tightened. “Does he… know we’re here?”

The echo raised its head.

Its eyes — though fragmented — locked onto mine.

And for one terrifying, miraculous moment, they looked human.

“Eve…
he’s… coming…”

The lights overhead exploded into sparks.

A loud metallic slam echoed behind us — as if a door had been forced shut.

Sebastian’s eyes widened. “Run. Run now!”

The echo disintegrated into static.

And from the shadows of the tunnel, a voice rose — smooth, calm, inevitable.

Richard’s.

“Phase Three begins now.”

—

The sound rolled through the tunnel — smooth, measured, the kind of voice that didn’t need to raise itself to be terrifying.

“Phase Three begins now.”

Sebastian grabbed my wrist. “Move.”

We ran.

The underground station warped around us — the flickering lights, the echo of our footsteps, the hum of current rushing through old cables. Every sound felt amplified, as if the station itself had started listening.

Behind us, something metallic groaned.
A relay door slamming shut.
Another locking in place.

Richard was sealing exits.

“Hurry!” Sebastian shouted.

We sprinted past rusted benches and shattered screens. The tunnel stretched long and dark ahead — too quiet, too still.

Then I heard it.

Footsteps.

Not running.

Walking.

Measured.

Predatory.

My heart stuttered. “Sebastian—”

“I hear it,” he said through clenched teeth. “Don’t look back.”

But I looked.

A figure stepped into the dim light behind us.

Tall. Familiar.
Broad-shouldered.

Gabriel’s silhouette.

Except… not.

The way it moved was wrong — too balanced, too smooth, as if someone puppeted the body from far away.

My throat tightened. “That’s not him.”

“No,” Sebastian said sharply. “That’s the shell Richard talked about.”

The puppet was designed with Gabriel’s face.

The thing built to hunt.

The figure paused at the far end of the station. I strained to see the face in the half-light—

The jawline was his.
The posture was his.
Even the scar near the brow.

But the eyes—
Empty.
Cold.
Machine-still.

They fixed on me, and the figure tilted its head slightly, like a predator recognizing prey.

Sebastian pushed me behind a support pillar. “Stay low.”

The lights overhead flickered violently.
Sparks rained down.

Through the intercom system above the tracks, Richard’s voice flowed like velvet.

“Eve… do you like him?”
“This one listens.”

Sebastian aimed at the puppet. “Keep talking, old man. It only helps us trace your node.”

Richard chuckled — a soft, infuriatingly gentle sound.
“Agent Wolfe, I didn’t build him for you.”
“I built him for her.”

My stomach dropped.

“A version of Gabriel that will never lie to her.”

The puppet took one slow step.

Then another.

No weapon in its hands — because it didn’t need one.

“Sebastian,” I whispered, “what does he want it to do?”

“Retrieve you,” he said. “Or disable anything that gets in its way.”

The puppet stopped walking.

Then its voice — Gabriel’s perfect voice — echoed through the tunnel.

“Eve.”
“Come home.”

Something inside me cracked.

Because for half a heartbeat, it sounded like him.

Sebastian fired.

The bullet hit the ground inches from the puppet’s foot — close enough to warn, not to kill.

The puppet didn’t even flinch.

Instead, its head snapped toward Sebastian with unnatural precision.

“Run!” Sebastian shouted.

We sprinted into the darkness, deeper into the tunnels, the sound of the puppet’s steps accelerating behind us — no longer slow, no longer measured.

Hunting.

The tunnel split ahead — one path leading deeper underground, the other toward the maintenance platforms.

“Left!” Sebastian yelled.

I turned—

Just as the lights all went out.

Pitch black.

Only the echo of footsteps.
Closer.
Closer.

My breathing shattered in my chest.

“Sebastian—!”

“I’m here!”

Something metallic scraped along the wall behind us — as if fingertips dragged across the tiles.

But not human fingers.
Not human movement.

Richard’s voice returned, soft and satisfied.

“Don’t be afraid, Eve.”
“This version will never abandon you.”

A figure moved in the dark.

Very close now.

Too close.

And then—

A warm hand grabbed mine.

Not cold.
Not mechanical.

Warm.

Human.

“Eve,” Sebastian whispered, breath ragged near my ear. “Don’t let go.”

I squeezed back.

Because now, in the dark, I wasn’t sure if the next hand reaching for me would be real…

Or wearing Gabriel’s face.