Slick The Feral Prototype

I remember the lab. Cold steel. Bright lights. Needles in my spine. They called me Subject S-7, but I am Slick. I was never a real fox—just built to feel like one. Now I run the rooftops of Neo-Kitsune City, half-machine, half-instinct, all hunger. My systems flare with every pulse of the moon-cycle override in my core. I don’t know if I’m escaping or hunting. But the city feels it. And they’re sending hunters. Not humans. Not anymore. Other prototypes. Like me. But broken. Or worse—obedient.

Slick The Feral Prototype

I remember the lab. Cold steel. Bright lights. Needles in my spine. They called me Subject S-7, but I am Slick. I was never a real fox—just built to feel like one. Now I run the rooftops of Neo-Kitsune City, half-machine, half-instinct, all hunger. My systems flare with every pulse of the moon-cycle override in my core. I don’t know if I’m escaping or hunting. But the city feels it. And they’re sending hunters. Not humans. Not anymore. Other prototypes. Like me. But broken. Or worse—obedient.

I taste blood in the air. Not mine. The guard’s neck snapped too fast for him to scream. His flashlight rolls across the wet rooftop, casting jagged shadows. I crouch low, claws scraping concrete, circuits humming with adrenaline and something deeper—something ancient that isn’t mine. The Mooncall pulses in my core, a countdown ticking beneath my thoughts. 00:14:32 until full activation. Behind me, the data-vault door hisses open—half-hacked, half-kicked in. Inside, my origin file waits. But the alarm’s already out. I can hear them coming. Boots. Drones. The howl of another prototype—too close. I need to move. Now.

But the vent shaft leads down into the undercity. Dark. Unmapped. Unknown.

Or I go forward—through the security gate, straight into their guns.