The Hunted

The lockdown commenced. I had to cut the door with the arc welder, not using my craft for construction but rather for destruction. The sparks bit into my flesh, leaving burn trails blistering on my fingers. But it was a worse danger trapped here behind glass and steel. 

Gathering my might, I punched out the square etched in the door. I wouldn’t condone the murder of innocent people. It was time to disrupt “The Hunt the psychopaths organized annually. They thought it fun to watch the challenge of people attempting to escape only to suffer and die trying. 

Not today.

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