The Last Delivery

Under the Lanterns

The city stretched below them like a labyrinth of fire, smoke, and fractured light. Liam clutched the bag to his chest, every nerve screaming, every heartbeat a drum of impending doom. Taye’s groans punctuated the night, and Nia’s sharp, calculated commands kept them moving. The Rooftop had disappeared from sight, but Liam knew better than to believe he was safe. In Eastbridge, you never truly escaped the Lanterns.

The bridge’s metal grated under their weight, every step echoing into the empty night. Below, the streets were alive with chaos — distant sirens wailing, engines roaring, and faint gunfire marking the aftermath of the safehouse assault. Liam tried to keep breathing evenly, but fear was a living thing, coiling around his chest and squeezing.

“Where are we going?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

Nia didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes scanned the rooftops around them, looking for the invisible, calculating presence of the Rooftop. “Somewhere they can’t reach us tonight,” she said finally. “A place off their grid… for now.”

Taye hissed in pain, gripping his shoulder where the suppressed round had found him. “I can’t… I can’t keep this up.”

“Then you’ll have to,” Liam snapped. “Because if we stop now, we’re dead.”

Nia glared at both of them, her patience as sharp as the blade she carried. “Move. No whining. No hesitation.”

They descended the bridge stairs, the city below opening like a map of shadows. Every alley seemed a potential trap, every rooftop a sniper perch. Liam’s mind raced, calculating, improvising. They needed a plan. They didn’t have one. Not yet.

Halfway down the street, the first sign of pursuit appeared. A van — black, tinted windows, Lantern emblem stenciled on the side — rolled silently out from a side street. Its headlights were dimmed, almost predatory. Liam froze.

“They’ve found us already,” Nia muttered. “Good. That means our path is being watched. Stay sharp.”

Taye groaned again and stumbled. Liam grabbed him under the arms, hauling him upright. The van’s tires crunched on loose gravel as it gained speed. Doors opened — silhouettes moved, weapons raised. The hunt had resumed.

“Split up!” Nia hissed. “We’ll meet at the docks!”

Liam hesitated. Splitting up was suicide. But he knew Nia wasn’t giving orders she wasn’t prepared to enforce.

They darted down separate alleys. Liam dragged Taye behind a stack of crates, ducking as a hail of bullets pinged metal around them. Sparks flew from a nearby streetlamp where one shot had hit. Heart pounding, Liam realized the Rooftop’s enforcer wasn’t alone — the Lanterns had ground troops, street-level hunters ready to finish what the Rooftop had started.

Taye gasped, blood dripping down his arm. “I… I can’t…”

“You can,” Liam growled. “You’re alive. That’s more than half the fight.”

From above, a shadow moved across a rooftop, nearly invisible against the night sky. Liam caught it in the corner of his eye. The Rooftop. Always watching, always calculating. He had a predator’s patience — and Liam knew he wasn’t just hunting the case. He was hunting them.

The streets twisted and turned, a maze designed for confusion. Liam used every instinct he had learned from years in this city: ducking behind dumpsters, weaving between parked cars, sliding through narrow corridors between buildings. Bullets stitched the air behind them, snapping and whistling with lethal precision.

Finally, they reached the edge of the industrial district. The docks sprawled before them — shipping containers stacked like urban cliffs, cranes looming like silent sentinels over the water. Nia had promised safety here, but Liam knew better. There was no safety in Eastbridge, only temporary reprieve.

“Over there,” Nia called, waving from atop a container stack. Liam followed her gaze. A small fishing boat bobbed gently against the pier, engines idling. Escape. But only if they made it there.

As they sprinted, a figure stepped into the alley ahead — a tall, broad-shouldered man in black tactical gear, Lantern emblem glowing faintly. Another trap. Liam felt his stomach drop.

“Stop right there,” the man said, voice like gravel. “The package… hand it over.”

Liam tightened his grip on the bag. “You want it? Come and take it.”

The man lunged. Liam sidestepped, but Taye wasn’t so lucky — another round rang out, grazing his side. Pain shot through him, but Liam wouldn’t stop. He pushed him forward, yelling, “Move! Keep moving!”

Nia leapt down from the container stack, pistols drawn, firing controlled bursts. The man dove behind a crate, returning fire. Sparks flew where bullets struck metal. The night had become a blur of motion, smoke, and blood.

Liam felt a surge of adrenaline, pure and raw. This was survival in its most basic form. No strategy, no plan — just heart, grit, and reflex. He grabbed Taye and shoved him behind another crate.

“Keep your head down!” Nia shouted, firing again.

The Rooftop appeared on a nearby crane, descending with uncanny precision. Liam’s blood ran cold. He wasn’t just a man — he was a storm, precise and inevitable. He moved without sound, without hesitation, calculating every step. Liam realized that confronting him directly would be suicide.

Then Nia shouted, “There!”

Liam followed her gaze. Across the dock, a narrow catwalk connected to another container stack. It was a gamble, but it was the only way. Liam lifted Taye over the railing, climbing after him. Nia covered their retreat with gunfire.

The Rooftop paused, watching them. He didn’t pursue immediately. He never rushed. He waited, calculating. Liam felt the weight of his eyes even from hundreds of feet away. The chase wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

By the time they reached the boat, Liam’s muscles were screaming, Taye barely conscious. Nia helped them aboard, the engines growling to life. The docks blurred behind them as they sped into the foggy river.

For a moment, there was silence. Only the gentle slap of water against the hull.

Liam looked at the city — lights flickering, smoke rising — and knew one thing: the Lanterns were everywhere. And the Rooftop… he was coming.

“Where now?” Taye croaked, pain twisting his face.

Nia didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes were fixed on the dark horizon. “We lay low. Regroup. And then… we strike.”

Liam swallowed. The words were simple, but the promise behind them was deadly. Survival wasn’t enough. Not anymore. To stay alive in Eastbridge, they would have to fight smarter, move faster, and trust no one.

And somewhere, in the shadows of the city, the Rooftop smiled. Patient. Calculating. Waiting.

The city had teeth. And tonight, Liam had learned just how sharp they could be.