The city was a crumbling corpse of concrete and steel, rotting under the ash-choked sky. Once a thriving metropolis, it now stood as a monument to humanity’s brutal contact with extraterrestrial forces — a chilling warning to any species foolish enough to shout its position into the dark forest of the multiverse.

A dark forest... Sorlag hadn’t seen one in a long time. The thought stirred something in her, fickle memories of her tribe, the other Sorgs, all oblivious to the doom looming just a portal away.

She found herself tracing the metal of her collar with a clawed finger and cursed, a low growl rumbling in her throat. If only she could tear this bomb from her neck these warmbloods would be dead meat! One day. One day, she’d have her freedom, and when that day arrives, she’d make them pay. Until then, she had to bide her time. Doing their dirty work isn’t so bad, at least it gives her something to kill. But playing errand boy for humans and three-limbed freaks? That is... irritating.

She moved through the desolate streets like a predator returning to old hunting grounds, talons scraping lightly against cracked pavement littered with the wreckage of forgotten battles. 'Keep moving'. Exercise dulls the frustration. Now isn’t the time to daydream of her captors’ inevitable demise.

A glance at her radar confirmed the huntress was on the right track. She crouched low, slit-pupiled eyes scanning the horizon. The device pulsed faintly at her side, it was given to her to help her locate and retrieve the latest interloper in this forsaken dimension. But Sorlag isn't one to follow orders. Her fingers twitched over the trigger, itching. 'Maybe this one would put up a fight'. The thought made her chuckle — a sharp, guttural sound swallowed by the dead city.

Here under Hell’s infernal corruption, the architecture twisted and melted into a grotesque mockery of its former self only to be impaled with sterilized efficiency by the Combine invasion. Hell’s unstoppable flood of demons met the immovable forces of the Combine, and the result was a stalemate frozen in time and molten metal. The humans had fled or perished, their distinct skeletons tangled with the carcasses of dead horrors that tormented their dimension. Some indistinguishable from the molten structures they had once sought shelter in.

Sorlag inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring. To humanity, this onslaught was the beginning of their downfall but to the Sorg the scent of lingering carnage was almost... rejuvenating. Her muscles twitched, aching for action. Even if her prey wasn’t supposed to die, well... maybe they would anyway.

Her claw tapped against the collar again, lips curling in irritation. The H.V.A. thought they had tamed her with their fancy leash. 'Fools'. They might control her for now, but she isn't on their side, not now not never. At least out here, she had room to stretch her claws. They wouldn’t dare set foot in this place. Too frail.

She rolled her shoulders, the muscles beneath her scales coiling in anticipation, her mind already plotting how to bend their orders to her will. If she found the interloper, what would stop her from testing their worth first? Maybe they could be useful. Maybe they know how to disarm the collar. Or maybe they’d just make for a good hunt.

She didn’t need to check the radar again. Her senses told her everything she needed to know. With a low, guttural hiss, Sorlag stepped forward, ready to make her presence known.