Click. Click. Click.

  Terra looks to his side as he repeatedly taps the button on the elevator, the filthy alleyway devoid of human contact. Grime has formed on the walls, vines covering the sides of the elevator's metal frame.

  “These nob-head construction workers couldn’t make an elevator correctly even if it killed them…”

  A rat scurries past Terra's leg, its nose wiggling as it sniffs around. The rat squeaks.

  Terra glances to his side again, then to the floor. " Rat? "

  The rat looks up, freezing, its beady eyes reflecting the rays of light from above. In the hands of the rat is a piece of moldy cheese, it takes a bite out of it, still looking up

  at Terra.

  " Squish. "

  He stomps his foot onto the rodent, blood splattering onto the walls. Terra snickers.

  The “OUT OF ORDER” sign dangles loosely, swaying weakly to the wind, a middle finger drawn crudely onto the wooden board.

  The elevator arrives. He enters, shakes his cloak to dry the blood, and presses the only functional button: -100. Leaning on the elevator wall, he sighs. It drops violently—

  he’s used to it after years of many different elevators with the same problem. As the elevator slows down at the bottom,

  a screech comes from the gears as it struggles to slow to a halt, before finally landing, creating a cloud of smoke.

  Terra coughs while leaving the elevator. "Never gets old."

  The Undercity opens before him: homeless, rogues, criminals, crude shops barely standing. Flashing neon signs. The Undercity, a buffet of anyone and everyone, all you can kill! Or steal...

  Kids run past Terra in hoods, swinging their arms while making explosion noises, some with R.C.T symbols on the back crudely drawn, trying to capture the hooded ones.

  It seems the locals here don't like the R.C.T at all... But Terra knows that all too well, because this is his home, the place where he feels like himself.

  Plus the horrible deals:

  Jerry’s Meats (90% Sale on Volcano-Larva Flesh!)

  Pawn of Dreams and stuff (We’ll buy anything from you!) — followed by runes and bloodstains.

  A spore-born bumps him, ranting in "Shroom-language" as Terra calls it. Terra ignores him. People normally wave at Terra—he’s known—but today they only stare or frown. Even familiar faces seem… different.

  His usual vendor closes early without a word. Strange.

  As he approaches the Black District, the flashing neon lights are scarce; this place is dark and shady. People are seen in huts and houses, some being kicked out, others

  being murdered, and others trading relics and other things. Terra made it by as a child by doing jobs to get relics, usually travelling Undercities, then trading the money from the relics

  and gems for food. Well, edible mush. Most food in the Undercity isn't very food-like.

  Terra keeps walking, whistling. A grenade flies past his head, exploding in the distance. He doesn't even flinch. As he approaches a small stone hut, acid lands close to him. He turns to look over.

  A green mutated bird stares at Terra, each of its eight eyes blinking after the last. It defecates onto the ground next to Terra's bare feet. Terra waves his hands. "Shoo!" he yells to the bird. It flies away.

  As Terra opens the door, he sneakily shoots a small crimson orb of energy toward the bird as it flies, hitting it directly. It explodes into green feathers.

  Terra enters the hut, the door closing behind him. He looks around. Jug is sitting on his stool, leaning on a table covered in relics, examining one with

  a magnifying glass. "As always... The relics."

  “Ah, Terra!” He turns from his magnifying glass, rubbing his eyes. "Well, can't be selling any fakes, can we?" He chuckles; it sounds like a broken diesel engine.

  Terra hands him the gem. Jug inspects it.

  “As always, you got it done. Reliable Umbral, huh?” He chuckles again, before leaning down to open a cloth-covered safe. Four beeps are heard before it unlocks, popping open.

  He grabs a few stacks of cash before handing them to Terra.

  Terra accepts his payment, smirking. "Big money, for a big guy, heh."

  “Careful out there, Terra. Those Rogue fellas are catching onto you…”

  “Oh those nerds? H-Haha! As if they'll even find a singular hair of a hint of where I am! I bet a million they're still at the supermarket,” Terra stutters, remembering Flame-Fist.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  He leaves, stretching as he does. The news anchor, Jug, it all lingers in his head. What if it's true? He doesn't believe it. It's just a coincidence this E guy knows the CITY he's in.

  I mean, where'll that get them? Flame-Fist simply got lucky, and besides...

  “Ca-ching!” he says, counting the money. "Rich!! My best job yet!"

  A bounty poster flies into his face. He gasps, coughing it off, before catching it as it slowly glides down:

  350,000,000$ — DEAD OR ALIVE.

  THE CRIMSON — TERRA UMBRAL.

  "350? Wasn't it like 200 last time..." He stares at the poster. He knows the name Terra Umbral, that's him... But why is... Why does it suddenly feel off?

  It's his name, but even after looking at it a hundred times it doesn't seem right. He doesn't fully remember a name like that, even if everyone calls him that, and he calls himself that.

  But, it's all he remembers anyway, so, what does it matter!

  "Whatever, but the more important part is..."

  He scratches his head, looking around. The Undercity rarely has bounty posters, and if they do it's usually for broke vigilantes or rogues, none being of this worth… And more importantly,

  only the R.C.T and other related groups put these up, so it's unusual for these to be down here, unless...

  A blonde man with a giant hammer appears—completely out of place.

  He locks eyes with Terra.

  R.C.T. Clothing.

  They can’t be down here—there’s a pact. He has to be seeing things, right? There's no way, and even if that's true, how did they know which Undercity to come to?

  Wait, already? There's no way—

  The man sprints, dark green Ether exploding violently from his legs.

  “Hey there, rogue!” He yells.

  He swings his hammer—sap green lines forming across the sides. The hammer speeds up mid-air. He swings downwards, a green shockwave wrapping around the

  hammer as it speeds up.

  Terra looks up to see a large block of vines and grass approaching him directly, only having a few seconds to react. He lifts his arms, blocking the hammer's impact but being overpowered anyways, getting sent a few meters back, still upright.

  “What the hell? Who're you?”

  “Name’s Limbus. R.C.T. Upper Division 2. I’m here to capture you.”

  Terra spits grass. “Well, Lame-us, the thing is—”

  “A Flying Rogue!” Terra points behind him.

  Limbus turns on instinct, his head glancing back, tracking the phantom threat.

  Terra notices this, now sprinting away as quickly as he can. He races across bridges suspended over a dark abyss, then into a massive underground cavern

  which leads to a stone staircase leading outside of Undercity.

  Limbus follows behind, vines whipping around. He roars, channeling more energy.

  “You can’t escape the R.C.T., Terra! We have protocols!”

  Terra scrambles up the last few steps, emerging into the grimy exterior of an abandoned warehouse district just as the first police helicopters are audible in the

  distance—the authorities are closing in from above and below.

  Terra fights, running forward and winding his arm up, but Limbus overpowers him easily. The sheer brute force and entanglement ability of the R.C.T. operative are too much for Terra's immediate, chaotic offense. Vine-wrapped fists pierce Terra’s chest, the impact knocking the wind out of him, and vines coil around his sword hand, yanking the weapon free and sending it clattering onto the floor of the basement.

  Terra takes a few steps back, sweating. "Alright agent angry, time for a facial re-alignment!" He quick-steps forward, red-glowing arcs of energy emerging from Terra's now clenched fist.

  He sends a right hook into Limbus's face, the arcs of crimson creating a shockwave on contact.

  Limbus stands there as Terra's fist collides with his face, the Ether crackling against his face, but it only creates scratch marks. Terra turns his head while struggling to even move him, his pupils contracting at the sight. He quickly retreats backwards.

  "What the fuck..." His eyes went wide. For a split second, his confidence disappeared, replaced by raw, unadulterated fear.

  Terra's hands began to shake. He grabbed his face, digging his fingernails in and dragging them downward, leaving red bruises across his cheeks. He scratched harder, desperately trying to claw the feeling out of his own flesh.

  Limbus stops his approach for a moment, the sight was disturbing.

  But Terra stopped, chuckling, " Alright, Lame-us. CYA! " He waves.

  Limbus grabs the air as he retreats, missing. The sudden change shocks him, but he eventually starts chasing him. "There's layers to this, Terra. You may be strong, but weak to the iron fist... OF THE R.C.T!"

  Hundreds of vines and trees explode out from the wall, moving at unimaginable speeds. The basement is blown to smithereens. Terra kicks off the floor backwards,

  tactical rolling to turn towards the basement door, running up the stairs as the door is demolished by a large tree.

  Terra kicks the door open. "Emergency, crazy old dude with abilities! Code Red!" Terra yells, jumping over the cubicle wall.

  The office worker moves the final pen to its perfect place. She sorted everything on her desk perfectly today, even the coffee cup was perfect. She turns on the computer,

  only to be met with a foot to the face. The entire desk is toppled over, coffee spilling over her brand new shirt. Terra runs to the window, jumping through, breaking it. He slides across the street,

  hitting a random civilian in the shin, breaking it.

  Terra gets up now. "Oh come on! My perfectly good cloak got another hole! Well, maybe that's a good thing, my cloak looks better like that! Fashion."

  He shakes off the glass fragments from his shirt. The civilian from before yells in pain. Terra giggles. Some bystanders cuss him out, one even throwing a flip-flop at him, probably his family.

  "Got a problem? Call me! My number is FUCK OFF!" He walks off, pulling his hood up.

  " Huh..." The sound of whirring cuts through his chuckling. He looks up, eyes widened. Helicopters patrol the area, multiple. Police cars drive by, civilians being asked and interrogated one-by-one by policemen...

  It's a full-scale search, "They actually found me? GOD, go figure idiot, it's not like I made my path OBVIOUS!" Terra groans, blending in with the crowd,

  hands in his pockets. He walks as far as he can from the officers, trying to keep a low profile.

  His pace speeds up, a feeling of anger boiling in him, he has really done it this time. "Stupid-Stupid-Stupid... They're SO onto me." He keeps seeing the same patrolling, searching, interrogating, over and over as he passes through crowds.

  They've found him. Everything changes now. Escape.