Over Analyze

Chapter 1

A gloved hand is placed on my shoulder, and my body tenses the moment that it makes contact. I stop walking and still completely. I hold my breath as I wait, wondering what the obvious God wants. For a moment, nothing happens, and my brain quickly searches for anything that could help me out of this situation. Analysis One Details: Male, judging by the size of the hand. Much taller than me, his hand is resting on my right shoulder from behind at a downward angle. His footsteps sounded light and stumble free, I'll have to get a head start to have any hope of outrunning him. Conclusion: Currently screwed.

After what feels like minutes, but is probably only thirty seconds, he jerks his arm around, and I feel my body start to pivot towards him. Depending heavily on instinct, I smash my arm into his before I turn around, and swiftly duck under his limb, taking off into a full sprint out of the tunnel.

Analysis Two Details: Slightly slower than anticipated, chance of successful flee raised by thirty percent. Two minutes from current base, it is necessary to lose him immediately. Conclusion: Eighty percent chance of survival.

I exit the tunnel, a mess of adrenalin and fear. I make a sharp left turn, heading the opposite direction of my makeshift hideout. Listening closely, I hear him turn the corner four seconds after I did. I have a good lead. Making one more sharp turn, though this one right, I slip into a building via broken window and run up the stairs as silently as possible.

I reach the roof of the three story building and jump the short distance to it's neighboring structure. Leaping across one more gap, this time larger, I slip through the door on the roof just as I hear the distant sound of the door opening on the first building.

Taking the steps two at a time, I leap down the stairs and resume sprinting. Analysis Three Details: Pace slowing – twenty seconds away from base. Pursuer lost. Conclusion: Ninety-nine percent chance of survival. Ten seconds to go. Destination in sight. Three... two... one... here.

Opening the door to the deserted building, I leave it to slam shut as I scramble towards the hidden hatch resting within the floor. Jumping in and disregarding the ladder, I grab my bug-out-bag from the filthy basement floor, and slip it on my back while climbing up the ladder with haste. Re-surfacing quickly, I exit the way I entered and start walking. I stick to the back alleyways and shadows, grateful for the setting sun. Final Analysis Details: Survival temporarily achieved. Base corrupted. Final Conclusion: Relocation required. I don't have my cloak on – It was ruined from my last encounter with a God three weeks ago.

They are finding me more quickly, and I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that I am gaining a reputation. Its very rare for a Runner to last more than two years, and in two weeks I will have gone for three. They are starting to see me as a challenge, something that they love. Its all just a game for them.

I let my thoughts wander, not very conscious of them as I let my feet carry me. I've only been walking for a few hours, but its pitch dark out and I have no light source. I'm currently staying in the deserted districts, hiding to the best of my ability, but it seems that they are finding me even here. Perhaps if I hide closer to the populated towns, I could lose them easier...

Slowing to a stop, I glance around and take in my surroundings. For a while now, I've hidden in the basements of buildings, and been caught sleeping three times in the last six months. Change is a risky thing, but I may just have to make one. Cautiously, I step into a building to my right. I let my eyes roam around the slightly visible outlines inside the room, and wait. I hear nothing. I feel nothing. I think it's clear.

I strain my eyes, and spot what I assume to be an elevator. Next to it is a door- Probably an emergency staircase. Walking across the glass and debris littered carelessly across the floor, I give the door handle a tug. It moves a little. Putting both my hands around it, I pull again, this time harder. The hinges squeak and creak as it flies open. I step inside, briefly considering closing the door, before deciding to ignore it and continue up the stairs. Twenty-five flights later, I kick the already slightly ajar door open and step onto the roof.