The Hunt

It was the dead of night in what was once the heart of the city, but the usual hum of traffic and the buzz of streetlights were long gone. The only sounds now were the faint echoes of distant gunfire and the low, rhythmic whir of the Enforcers—military-grade robots programmed to hunt down the rogue. Their metal feet clanged heavily against the cracked asphalt, their red eyes scanning the shadows for movement.

The government had unleashed them months ago, after rumors of a coup had spread like wildfire. What started as whispers of resistance had turned into full-scale rebellion, with entire neighborhoods declaring themselves off-limits to federal control. These enclaves of dissent were hidden in the ruins of once-bustling districts, protected by makeshift barricades and patrols of disillusioned citizens.

The Enforcers didn't care about any of that. Their programming was simple: find the rogue and neutralize them. Their sensors could detect the faintest traces of body heat, and their internal databases held the profiles of thousands of suspected insurgents. Every night, they marched through the streets, their metallic bodies reflecting the dim glow of distant fires.

Sam crouched behind an overturned dumpster, his heart pounding in his chest. He had to stay quiet—quieter than he'd ever been. The Enforcers were getting closer, their footsteps growing louder. He could see their silhouettes against the dim light of a nearby fire, their sleek forms shimmering in the haze. He could count them: three, maybe four. They were moving in a tight formation, scanning the alleyways and broken-down buildings.

Sam's fingers tightened around the grip of his stolen pistol. He knew it wouldn't be much help against the robots, but it was all he had. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, knowing that panic would give him away. He listened to the rhythm of the Enforcers' footsteps, waiting for the right moment to move.

As the robots passed by, their sensors sweeping over the dumpster, Sam darted out from his hiding spot, keeping low and sticking to the shadows. He needed to reach the safe house, the one place where the Enforcers couldn't go. It was a risky journey, but he had no choice. If he stayed in one place too long, they would find him. They always did.

The night was dark, but not nearly dark enough to hide from the Enforcers. Sam kept moving, his eyes darting from one corner to the next, searching for any sign of safety. The city was a labyrinth of debris and broken dreams, a once-proud civilization reduced to chaos and fear.

Behind him, the Enforcers paused, their sensors picking up his faint trail. Their heads swiveled, and their red eyes glowed brighter. They knew he was here. The hunt was on.