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 remember the lab. The needles. The voice that said I was broken. Then the forest. The fire. The change. Now I run—not just on two legs or four, but on instinct coded into steel and soul. My body is machine, my blood is moonlight, and my mind? Wild. Free. Feral. The city hunts me, but I hunt back. Every choice sharpens my claws or dulls my pulse. This isn’t about survival. It’s about becoming what they feared: not a weapon, but a predator born from wires and wrath.