Shadows Beneath the Steel Sky

The Target

While the city couldn’t sleep, Eryk’s thoughts never drifted from his target: a bioluminescent puppy no larger than a teacup. A peculiar case of stolen genetic experimentation gone rogue, this "puppy," known as Wren, was no ordinary creature. She was engineered to glow like the aurora borealis, her internal biology making her a walking light show. But her value wasn’t just aesthetic—hidden within her DNA was a fragment of stolen memory nets, neural designs capable of reprogramming human thought. Wren had been taken from a top-tier gen-lab, and now sophisticated bounty hunters across Europe were clashing to claim her.

“You’re not the only one after her,” Dasha reminded him. “Mordin’s mercs aren’t far behind. I intercepted chatter about their drones. You need to move.”

“Mordin can try,” Eryk said with ice in his voice. The name unfurled his ire, every syllable spelling danger. Mordin had already snatched five engineered pets for his black-market schemes; Wren would be number six unless Eryk intervened.

A Glimpse of the Past

As Eryk navigated the maze-like alleys, his thoughts cracked open like an old ledger. “I said I’d protect them. All of them.” Memories crashed into him. Years ago, he wasn’t just a bounty hunter; he was a father. His seven-year-old daughter adored engineered pets, her fascination filling their dingy Eastern Bloc flat with fantastical holograms of genetically enhanced creatures. She had begged for a puppy like Wren, and for years, Eryk had promised. But promises crumble when the world does. She had died before he could afford even the simplest prototype, her illness a testament to the city’s toxicity.

He had failed her. And now, with every hunt, every target, every stolen creation he retrieved, he was bargaining with the void—trying to prove he was still capable of keeping someone, anyone, safe.

The Chase

“Eryk, she’s in the old district near the post-Soviet tram terminal. And—damn it—Mordin’s mercs are closing in fast. Head southeast!”

The mention of the old district snapped Eryk from his thoughts. He pivoted, his coat fanning out like the wings of a bird too tired to fly. Thunder cracked overhead as he broke into a sprint.

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The terminal loomed ahead, a decaying giant from another century. Rotted chrome walls met shattered glass, and the air here was heavy with mildew and broken dreams. Wren wasn’t hard to spot among the junkyard’s artificial carnage: her bioluminescence bathed the shadows in emerald and sapphire hues.

She was cornered. A trio of drones hovered menacingly, their synthetic whirs growing louder as they zeroed in. Her tiny, glowing frame trembled beneath a pile of rusted cables.

“No!” Eryk barked, reaching into his coat and pulling out a pulse disruptor. He fired, the weapon emitting a high-pitched thrum that scrambled the drones’ circuitry. They crashed to the floor, sparks flying.

Wren darted out, her delicate paws splashing through the muck. Eryk dropped to one knee, holding out his hand. His heart pounded in his chest, a drumbeat echoing his daughter’s laughter.

“Wren…” His voice cracked. “It’s okay. I’m here to help.”

For a moment, she hesitated, her multi-colored glow dimming. But then, as if recognizing something unspoken in his weathered face, she waddled toward him.

Fractured Resolve

A howl of mechanical engines snapped Eryk’s attention skyward. Mordin’s team had arrived—hulking mercenaries in adaptive armor descended from their low-altitude craft, their boots crunching against shattered glass.

“Kowalski!” Mordin’s tone was that of a predator who had already tasted blood. He stepped forward, a massive figure with a bionic arm that gleamed red beneath the dim light. His suit was polished and pristine—a sign of his wealth, or perhaps an insult to those lesser.

“Hand the puppy over,” Mordin growled. “And I’ll pretend you didn’t just scrap a million-credits’ worth of drones.”

Eryk stood, shielding Wren behind his leg. His disruptor was trained on Mordin—a futile gesture against the armor, but posturing was all he had.

“Not today, Mordin,” Eryk said, his voice steady. “Not her.”

The Turning Point

What happened next defied expectation. Wren leapt from behind Eryk’s leg and immediately emitted a pulse of vivid light, so stunning and powerful it overwhelmed the augmented visual receptors of Mordin’s team. They blinked and stumbled, their targeting systems thrown into disarray.

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Eryk seized the moment. Grabbing Wren, he bolted toward the shadows. Dasha’s voice screamed through his earclip: “I’ve hacked the south gate! Get moving!”

They raced into the darkness together—man and engineered creature—bound not by purpose but by the quiet understanding of those trapped in a world that used them for profit and power.

A New Mission

Hours later, as the first pale light of dawn kissed the city’s jagged skyline, Eryk cradled Wren in his arms. Her glow had faded to a soft shimmer as exhaustion claimed her. They sat in an abandoned tenement, the silence a rare gift.

“You’re safe now,” he whispered, unsure if he was speaking to Wren or the ghosts of his past. Maybe both.

For the first time in years, Eryk felt something almost foreign bloom in his chest: the seed of redemption. Wren wasn’t just another target—she was a chance to make things right, to honor the promises he had failed to keep, and to protect what little light still existed in a world drenched in shadows.

As the city stirred, Eryk vowed silently: No one would ever take her again.

And in the fractured light of Neo-Kraków, hope flickered, fragile but alive.

Genre: Sci-fi/Action Thriller

The Source...check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: Europe’s Dog Mafia Exposed - Bringing Criminal Puppy Traders to Heel

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1 comment

Helen

Whoaaa this popped off like a neon rave in my brain. A glowy puppy with memory-hacking DNA?? Instant Netflix series vibes. 🐾

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