Hunted, pt III

Angie collapsed onto her couch, letting out a long, shaky breath. The conversation with Lumina had rattled her more than she cared to admit. She had been so close, far too close to losing control. Just standing there, talking, had tested every ounce of restraint she had left.

The flicker of her monitor in the corner of her vision pulled her attention back to her next task. A stream. Right. Her audience was expecting her, eagerly waiting for another session, another glimpse into the life of Archangel—their favorite shadowrunner, the catgirl with the insider scoops on Prism City’s underworld. She couldn’t disappoint them, even if every fiber of her being screamed for her to retreat into darkness, to give in to the hunger gnawing at her insides.

But that wasn’t an option. Not yet.

Angie dragged herself over to her setup, dropping into her chair. Her claws reflexively tapped against the keyboard as she opened up her broadcasting software. The familiar sight of her stream overlay blinked into life on the screen, a comforting routine amidst the chaos her life had become. She glanced at the chat window already filling with comments and questions from her regulars.

"Yo, Angie! Been waiting all week for this!"

"What’s up with the Sprawl these days? Anything new?"

"Damn girl, you look tired. Everything okay?"

She forced a smile, her fangs just barely peeking through as she leaned toward the camera. "What’s up, fam? Sorry for the delay—been dealing with some... interesting situations. You know how it is." Her voice was steady, masking the turmoil within. The performance had begun.

Angie’s fingers danced across the keyboard, pulling up footage from her latest excursion through the industrial zone. The camera panned across rusted machinery, long-abandoned factories, and shadowed alleyways where danger lurked in every corner. She kept her commentary light, weaving stories about the local gangs, corporate espionage, and the oddities she’d encountered in the sprawl. But even as she spoke, her mind drifted back to the hunger.

It was always there now. Not just a thirst for blood, but a primal, visceral need that clawed at her from within. She had done everything she could to suppress it. Blood packs from the black market, carefully timed feedings, anything to keep herself under control. But it wasn’t enough. The virus was growing stronger, demanding more.

Angie’s gaze shifted momentarily to her reflection on the screen—her eyes glowing faintly under the dim lights of her apartment. She blinked, the image unnerving her more than she cared to admit. There was something alien there, something she couldn’t quite recognize anymore. The girl who once ruled these streams with sharp wit and a devil-may-care attitude was fading, slowly being replaced by something else.

"Angie, you good? You seem... off tonight."

Her audience had noticed the hesitation, the cracks in her usually seamless persona. She flashed another smile, leaning in closer to the camera to hide the unease creeping up her spine. "Just tired, fam. Running the night shift's getting to me, but I’m still kicking."

"Take care of yourself, girl. We need you!"

"Seriously, though, rest up. We can wait!"

Angie let out a small laugh, her claws drumming lightly on the desk. Her audience had no idea what kind of rest she needed. No amount of sleep would ever quell the chaos building inside her. But she couldn’t stop now—not when she was so close to unraveling the mysteries she had uncovered about the sprawl, about the virus itself. As she shifted in her chair, she felt the subtle throb of her muscles beneath her skin, a reminder of the power coursing through her veins. There was no denying it—the virus had enhanced her in ways she hadn’t anticipated. Strength, speed, reflexes, all sharpened beyond anything she had before. It was intoxicating in a way, knowing she was no longer prey in this city of predators.

But with that power came a price.

Angie turned her attention back to the stream, quickly shifting topics to keep the chat flowing. She had a knack for distracting her viewers, keeping them hooked on the narrative she spun. Tonight’s stream was no different, with tales of corporate sabotage and mysterious disappearances capturing their imagination. But in the back of her mind, the reality of her situation simmered. The nights were getting harder, the thirst more difficult to manage.

After what felt like an eternity, she wrapped up the stream, signing off with her usual charismatic farewell. The screen went dark, the chat fading to silence. Angie slumped back in her chair, exhaling deeply.

The act was over. And now she was alone again, with nothing but her own thoughts and the steady hum of her body reminding her that the clock was ticking.

She stood up, stretching her limbs, feeling the tension in her muscles. There was no denying it—soon, she would need to feed again. But she’d made a vow to herself, a line she wouldn’t cross: no hunting innocents. She’d find another way, just as she had before.

The hunger growled beneath the surface, a beast waiting to be unleashed. But Angie wasn’t ready to let it win. Not yet.

Not tonight.

Angie paced across the small space of her apartment, the low hum of the city outside blending with the persistent buzz inside her mind. The hunger was worse tonight. She could feel it pulsing in her veins, a steady drumbeat growing louder with each passing hour. She glanced at her reflection in the window, the faint glow of the streetlights catching her amethyst eyes. The slitted pupils had grown darker, more pronounced. Her sharp, pointed teeth glimmered in the dim light as she ran her tongue across them, feeling the edges. They felt sharper now. Her instincts told her it wouldn’t take much for her to slip—to lose the control she was fighting so hard to maintain. It had been days since she last fed. The blood packs she had stashed were gone, used up faster than she’d anticipated. There was a time, not long ago, when they would’ve been enough to stave off the hunger for a week, maybe more. But now, with the virus tightening its grip on her, they barely lasted three days. Her mind wandered back to the Sprawl Stalker—the attack, the infection, the days after. The virus had changed her in ways she hadn’t fully understood until recently. It wasn’t just the thirst for blood. It was her senses, her instincts, her very nature. She was faster now, stronger. But with each gain, she could feel something slipping away.

She pressed her hand against the cool glass, staring out over the city below. Prism City always seemed alive at night—pulsing with energy and danger in equal measure. Out there, people were going about their lives, unaware of the darkness creeping through its streets. People she used to feel connected to. But now, that connection felt distant.

Her phone buzzed on the table behind her, snapping her out of her thoughts. It was Lumina. Again.

Angie hesitated. She hadn’t spoken to her since the alleyway incident, when she nearly lost control. Lumina had offered help, but Angie wasn’t sure what help looked like in a situation like this. She didn’t even know if she could trust herself around her friend anymore. The risk was too high. One slip, one moment of weakness, and—

The phone buzzed again.

With a sigh, Angie snatched it up and read the message.

"Meet me at the usual spot. Got some news you’ll want to hear."

Her eyes narrowed. Lumina never sent vague messages unless it was important. Normally, she’d have been the first to jump on it—any scrap of intel was valuable in this line of work. But now? Could she risk it? Could she face Lumina again, knowing what was lurking beneath her skin, ready to tear through at any moment?

Another buzz. This time from Kitten.

"You better show up. We’ve got something big."

Angie groaned, her claws flexing against the phone. They weren’t going to let her sit this one out. She had responsibilities—she couldn’t just disappear. Not when there was something big brewing. She wasn’t just Archangel, streamer extraordinaire. She was part of this world, like it or not.

With a resigned sigh, she grabbed her jacket and threw it on, adjusting the collar to cover her neck. She slipped on a pair of sunglasses despite the hour—partly to hide the glow of her eyes, partly out of habit. The less people saw, the better. She took one last look at her reflection before heading out the door. The hunger still gnawed at her, but for now, she could manage. She had to. The streets of the Sprawl greeted her with their usual chaos—neon signs flickering in the distance, the sound of distant sirens, the low murmur of voices in the shadows. Angie moved quickly, keeping to the back alleys, her heightened senses picking up every sound, every movement. She could smell the city—sweat, grime, oil, and something else, something that made her stomach churn with both hunger and disgust.

Blood. It was everywhere.

She pushed the thought aside, focusing on her destination: a rundown bar hidden in the Sprawl’s underbelly, a favourite haunt of local shadowrunners. The bar was dimly lit, its neon sign barely hanging onto life as it flickered above the entrance. Inside, the usual crowd of misfits and mercs milled about, their faces hidden beneath hoods and masks. Angie’s eyes scanned the room, locking onto Lumina and Kitten sitting at their usual corner table.

They both looked up as she approached. Kitten, her pink hair tied up in twin buns, flashed a grin. "Look who decided to show up."

Lumina, ever the serious one, gave her a nod. "Glad you came. We’ve got a situation."

Angie slid into the booth across from them, her fingers drumming lightly against the table. "What’s the big news?"

Lumina leaned forward, lowering her voice. "We’ve got a lead on a major supply of high-grade tech coming into the Sprawl—Skilljacks, military-grade enhancements, the works. It’s untraceable, off-market stuff, but word is it’s connected to one of the big corporations."

Angie’s brow furrowed. "And they’re moving it through here?"

Kitten nodded, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Yup. And we’ve got a window to intercept. If we play our cards right, we could make a fortune."

Angie’s heart raced, but not from excitement. The hunger was building again, gnawing at her insides, distracting her from the conversation. She clenched her fists beneath the table, trying to focus.

"Where and when?" she asked, her voice tight.

Lumina raised an eyebrow, noticing the tension in her voice. "Are you okay?"

Angie forced a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "Yeah. Just... tired. What’s the plan?"

Lumina hesitated for a moment before continuing. "We hit the convoy at midnight. It’ll be moving through the industrial zone—low security, minimal personnel. Should be a clean job."

Angie nodded, her mind already racing through the details. She could do this. She’d done it a hundred times before. But this time, something was different. The hunger was louder, more insistent. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold it back.

Kitten leaned back, stretching her arms above her head. "It’s gonna be a blast. Just like old times, huh, Angie?"

Angie chuckled weakly, her thoughts far from the excitement in Kitten’s voice. "Yeah. Just like old times."

But deep down, she knew things were far from the same. The virus had changed everything. And tonight, no matter how hard she tried to push it away, the hunger was coming with her.