CHAPTER 49: CHAPTER 49: ON THE RUN, AGAIN?

"I... got what you asked for."

The man shuffled closer, clutching the metal box to his chest. "What’s even in this? And you’re right, there were people there—they look like feds. Are they feds? Are these drugs? Can... can I have some?"

He sniffled loudly, edging closer to Adam with bloodshot eyes.

"It’s not," Adam said flatly, taking the box from the man’s twitchy hands. He moved to the wall where a rusted exhaust pipe jutted out and, without hesitation, thrust his arm deep inside the pipe.

"W...whoa!" The man jumped back. "A...ain’t that hot, man!?"

"No," Adam shook his head as he reached deeper into the pipe. The sound of sizzling flesh filled the alley, but Adam showed no reaction. When he withdrew his arm, it was covered in burns, but clutched in his blistered fingers was a small key.

The man’s eyes widened. "Oh...oh man...I think the shrooms are kicking in."

Adam completely ignored him, and he placed the box on a nearby trash can and unlocked it. The man crept forward, peering over Adam’s shoulder... and his breath stuttered as soon as his eyes landed on the stacks of rolled cash filling the box.

"It...it really was filled with dough!?" The man gasped, taking a step back as Adam turned toward him.

"As promised," Adam said, handing him one of the rolls. The man snatched it quickly, his eyes darting between Adam and the open box of money.

Adam noticed the look, sighed, and locked the box. He turned to leave, but the man rushed to block his path.

"W...wait!" The man’s voice cracked. "You... you have more in that box. Give me more or... or I go back to that apartment and tell the feds where you are."

"No..." Adam sighed again, placing his hand against the metal trash can next to him. With barely even a breath, he pressed his fingers into the metal, slowly denting and warping it.

The man’s mouth fell open. "You...you’re a Game veteran!? No..."

His gaze then dropped to Adam’s arm where, beneath his sleeve, the horrific burns were already vanishing, fresh pink skin replacing the charred flesh.

"You’re... a Hero?!" The man swallowed hard. "You—"

Adam stepped forward, cutting off whatever the man was about to say.

"I... know where you live," Adam whispered, "You tell them I’m here, I won’t be—but what are the chances I’ll still find you in the place where I found you?"

The man’s face drained of color, and his pupils shrank.

"I... I won’t tell anyone about you, man!" He raised his hands in surrender, backing away. "C-chill. I was just... I was only joking! I ain’t no snitch!"

"I know." Adam merely gestured to the street with his head, and the man scurried off like a rat.

Adam stared at the man’s back disappearing into the light. And once Adam was sure he was alone in the alley, he released a deep, stammering breath.

"Ho..." His shoulders sagged, he truly wasn’t used to threatening people even after everything he had been through—no. He refused to get used to it.

He pressed his hand against his chest again, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath his palm. But after a moment, he reached inside his shirt and pulled out a small pouch hanging from a necklace—he wasn’t holding his chest through his jacket at all, but the pouch.

Gently, he planted the pouch against his forehead, his eyes closing briefly. Then he removed it from his neck and placed it carefully inside the metal box.

"Huh..." he exhaled, grabbing the box before retrieving a large bag hidden behind one of the trash bins.

Adam had spent twenty years running from the Hospital, always prepared for moments like this.

He’d fled at the first sign of their presence, habitually keeping his belongings scattered in different locations. But this time was different—this was the first time he was actually running with the Hospital actively on his trail. Previous escapes had been driven by paranoia, but this one was real now.

They know he exists, and it would only be a matter of time until they find him again.

But years on the run had taught him how to disappear. He was good at becoming a ghost, walking invisible among crowds.

He finally stepped out of the alley, joining the flow of pedestrians.

But like most of these people, he was lost.

Returning to scavenging wasn’t an option—Jefferson was dead, and the Hospital might be watching those grounds closely. Hannah might also still be working as a scavenger, and he wouldn’t be able to explain why he was still alive after his team lost the Game.

What... do I even do now?

And so, he walked, blending with the masses flowing through the city streets.

Only days had passed since the Game, yet the city was already recovering. Granted, the Dome emerged at the opposite end of the city, but the speed at which people moved on in this side was striking—or perhaps they simply didn’t care since they weren’t directly affected.

Life continued. Heroes’ faces were once again plastered on billboards and screens at the side of the buildings.

The world was dead, and humanity has turned it into entertainment.

Adam stopped in front of a large perfume advertisement featuring a beautiful female Hero.

Charlotte, the Saint of Flames.

He stared at her face adorned by tiny flames, and then at her name, and all he could think of was Grace’s face as the flames consumed her.

"Kh..." He clicked his tongue in frustration, shaking the image from his mind.

He’d made Grace so many promises, but how could he even begin to fulfill them? The Administrators seemed untouchable—no one knew how to reach them. And the Hospital? He was too weak to confront them now.

Weak.

Power. That’s what he needed. He needed to become strong enough that he wouldn’t have to run anymore, from anyone.

But how? The next Game was a month away. He needed something else, something he could do now. Something that could earn him money, as well as fighting experience.

"Hmm..." Adam’s eyes widened slightly as he remembered something. He quickly pulled out his phone.

There was something he could do now that he couldn’t before. Something Jefferson had always warned him and the other scavengers about.

Leaks.