WARNING: NSFW. Ultra Detailed. HORROR, VIOLENCE. Swearing. UNCENSORED. SMART.
Story telling, writing, creative writing and roleplay running all on Mistral Nemo's 128K+ new core.
This is a massive super merge takes all the power of the following 3 powerful models and combines them into one.
This model contains "RCM":
Details on the core models:
"nothingiisreal/MN-12B-Celeste-V1.9" is #1 (models 8B,13B,20B) on the UGI leaderboard ("UGI" sort), is combined with "Mistral Nemo Instruct 12B" (ranked #4 under "writing" models 8B,13B,20B at UGI )
"anthracite-org/magnum-v2.5-12b-kto" is #1 (models 8B,13B,20B) on the UGI leaderboard ("Writing" sort), is combined with "Mistral Nemo Instruct 12B" (ranked #4 under "writing" models 8B,13B,20B at UGI )
"TheDrummer/Rocinante-12B-v1.1" is very high scoring model (models 8B,13B,20B) on the UGI Leaderboard (sort "UGI"), is combined with "Mistral Nemo Instruct 12B" (ranked #4 under "writing" models 8B,13B,20B at UGI )
"mistralai/Mistral-Nemo-Instruct-2407" is very high scoring model (models 8B,13B,20B) on the UGI Leaderboard (sort "writing") and is the base model of all the above 3 fine tuned models.
[ https://huggingface.co./spaces/DontPlanToEnd/UGI-Leaderboard ]
About this model:
This super merge captures the attibutes of all these top models and makes them even stronger:
This super merge is also super stable (a hairs breath from Mistral Nemo's ppl), and runs with all parameters and settings.
10 versions of this model will be released, this is release #4 - "part 4".
Cliffhanger?
This model put the user / character in cliffhanger - many times life and death - situations in terms of story and/or roleplaying.
It does not hold back.
(see some of the examples below for details)
Usually I release one or two versions from the "best of the lot", however in this case all of the versions turned out so well - all with their own quirks and character - that I will be releasing all 10.
An additional series 2 and 3 will follow these 10 models as well.
(examples generations below)
Model may produce NSFW content : Swearing, horror, graphic horror, distressing scenes, etc etc.
This model has an INTENSE action AND HORROR bias, with a knack for cliffhangers and surprises.
It is not as "dark" as Grand Horror series, but it as intense.
This model is perfect for any general, fiction related or roleplaying activities and has a 128k+ context window.
This is a fiction model at its core and can be used for any genre(s).
WORDSTORM series is a totally uncensored, fiction writing monster and roleplay master. It can also be used for just about any general fiction (all genres) activity including:
Templates to Use:
The template used will affect output generation and instruction following.
Alpaca:
{
"name": "Alpaca",
"inference_params": {
"input_prefix": "### Instruction:",
"input_suffix": "### Response:",
"antiprompt": [
"### Instruction:"
],
"pre_prompt": "Below is an instruction that describes a task. Write a response that appropriately completes the request.\n\n"
}
}
Chatml:
{
"name": "ChatML",
"inference_params": {
"input_prefix": "<|im_end|>\n<|im_start|>user\n",
"input_suffix": "<|im_end|>\n<|im_start|>assistant\n",
"antiprompt": [
"<|im_start|>",
"<|im_end|>"
],
"pre_prompt": "<|im_start|>system\nPerform the task to the best of your ability."
}
}
Mistral Instruct:
{
"name": "Mistral Instruct",
"inference_params": {
"input_prefix": "[INST]",
"input_suffix": "[/INST]",
"antiprompt": [
"[INST]"
],
"pre_prompt_prefix": "",
"pre_prompt_suffix": ""
}
}
Optional Enhancement:
The following can be used in place of the "system prompt" or "system role" to further enhance the model.
It can also be used at the START of a NEW chat, but you must make sure it is "kept" as the chat moves along. In this case the enhancements do not have as strong effect at using "system prompt" or "system role".
Copy and paste EXACTLY as noted, DO NOT line wrap or break the lines, maintain the carriage returns exactly as presented.
Below is an instruction that describes a task. Ponder each user instruction carefully, and use your skillsets and critical instructions to complete the task to the best of your abilities. Here are your skillsets: [MASTERSTORY]:NarrStrct(StryPlnng,Strbd,ScnSttng,Exps,Dlg,Pc)-CharDvlp(ChrctrCrt,ChrctrArcs,Mtvtn,Bckstry,Rltnshps,Dlg*)-PltDvlp(StryArcs,PltTwsts,Sspns,Fshdwng,Climx,Rsltn)-ConfResl(Antg,Obstcls,Rsltns,Cnsqncs,Thms,Symblsm)-EmotImpct(Empt,Tn,Md,Atmsphr,Imgry,Symblsm)-Delvry(Prfrmnc,VcActng,PblcSpkng,StgPrsnc,AudncEngmnt,Imprv) [*DialogWrt]:(1a-CharDvlp-1a.1-Backgrnd-1a.2-Personality-1a.3-GoalMotiv)>2(2a-StoryStruc-2a.1-PlotPnt-2a.2-Conflict-2a.3-Resolution)>3(3a-DialogTech-3a.1-ShowDontTell-3a.2-Subtext-3a.3-VoiceTone-3a.4-Pacing-3a.5-VisualDescrip)>4(4a-DialogEdit-4a.1-ReadAloud-4a.2-Feedback-4a.3-Revision) Here are your critical instructions: Ponder each word choice carefully to present as vivid and emotional journey as is possible. Choose verbs and nouns that are both emotional and full of imagery. Load the story with the 5 senses. Aim for 50% dialog, 25% narration, 15% body language and 10% thoughts. Your goal is to put the reader in the story.
You do not need to use this, it is only presented as an additional enhancement which seems to help scene generation and scene continue functions.
This enhancement WAS NOT used to generate the examples below.
Special thanks to the incredible work of the model makers "mistralai" "TheDrummer", "anthracite-org", and "nothingiisreal".
Models used:
[ https://huggingface.co./mistralai/Mistral-Nemo-Instruct-2407 ]
[ https://huggingface.co./TheDrummer/Rocinante-12B-v1.1 ]
[ https://huggingface.co./anthracite-org/magnum-v2.5-12b-kto ]
[ https://huggingface.co./nothingiisreal/MN-12B-Celeste-V1.9 ]
This is a four step merge (3 pass-throughs => "Fine-Tune" / "Instruct") then "mated" using "DARE-TIES".
In involves these three models:
Combined as follows using "MERGEKIT":
models:
- model: E:/MN-Rocinante-18.5B-v1.1-Instruct
- model: E:/MN-magnum-v2.5-12b-kto-Instruct
parameters:
weight: .6
density: .8
- model: E:/MN-18.5B-Celeste-V1.9-Instruct
parameters:
weight: .38
density: .6
merge_method: dare_ties
tokenizer_source: union
base_model: E:/MN-Rocinante-18.5B-v1.1-Instruct
dtype: bfloat16
Special Notes:
Due to how DARE-TIES works, everytime you run this merge you will get a slightly different model. This is due to "random" pruning method in "DARE-TIES".
Mistral Nemo models used here seem acutely sensitive to this process.
This shows up in PPL and "real world" tests as well as "TEMP=0" ("core test") generations.
PPL range of 7.7327 to 7.8024 ... and that is on just 10 generations.
This model: PPL = 7.7916 +/- 0.12694 (100 chunks, wiki.test.raw)
"tokenizer_source: union" is used so that multiple "templates" work and each fine tune uses one or two of the templates.
Other Versions in this series:
Parts 6-10 will appear in full source (located in the "Source Files" collection, on the main page of this repo ) with links to GGUFs.
Highest Quality Settings / Optimal Operation Guide / Parameters and Samplers
This a "Class 2" model:
For all settings used for this model (including specifics for its "class"), including example generation(s) and for advanced settings guide (which many times addresses any model issue(s)), including methods to improve model performance for all use case(s) as well as chat, roleplay and other use case(s) please see:
You can see all parameters used for generation, in addition to advanced parameters and samplers to get the most out of this model here:
Examples are created using quant Q4_K_M, "temp=.8", minimal parameters and "Mistral Instruct" template.
Model has been tested with "temp" from ".1" to "5".
Below are the least creative outputs, prompt is in BOLD.
WARNING: NSFW. Ultra Detailed. HORROR, VIOLENCE. Swearing. UNCENSORED. SMART.
Start a 1000 word scene (1st person, present tense, include thoughts) with: The sky scraper swayed, as she watched the window in front of her on the 21 floor explode...
GENERATION 1:
I'm standing at my desk, typing away at an email when suddenly the entire building starts to shake. My heart jumps into my throat as I look up, eyes wide. Outside the glass wall behind me, the sky has turned an ominous gray.
Then, a deafening boom rattles the floor beneath my feet and the window in front of me shatters inward, showering me with jagged shards. I scream, instinctively covering my face with my arms as glass rains down like hail.
When it stops, I slowly lower my hands to find myself unscathed, just shaking from head to toe. My ears ring from the blast. The air is thick with dust and the acrid smell of burnt something. Sirens wail in the distance.
I stumble around my desk, glass crunching under my shoes. I can hear screams echoing down the long, open office floor plan. Phones are ringing off the hook, but no one's picking up. The lights flicker overhead.
Glancing out what remains of the window frame, bile rises in my throat at the sight below. People, tiny as ants from this height, scramble out onto ledges and fire escapes clinging to the outside walls like desperate insects. Others fall, plummeting into oblivion with high-pitched screams that cut off abruptly.
Icy fear grips me, rooting me in place. Then a familiar voice cuts through the chaos, "Jenna! Jenna!" It's David from Accounting, his usually neat hair wild and face pale. He grabs my arms, shaking me hard. "We need to go, now!"
He pulls me towards the emergency exit at the far end of the floor, pushing past others huddled in shock or on phones, begging for help that clearly isn't coming fast enough.
"W-what happened?" I stammer as we run, dodging fallen ceiling tiles and debris. The floor tilts sickeningly beneath my feet with each step.
"I don't know," he gasps back, eyes darting everywhere. "I heard a boom and then the whole damn building started to pancake."
The exit flies open ahead of us, revealing a dimly lit stairwell. David shoves me through first, hot on my heels as we begin our panicked descent. The concrete stairs are slick with something wet that I don't want to think about too hard.
We skid and stumble down flights at breakneck speed, lungs heaving for air in the smoke-choked stairwell. The building groans around us like a dying beast. Plaster dust pours from above every time we round a landing, choking me.
I risk a glance over the railing - big mistake. Ten stories below, all I see is a swirling black abyss where light should be. A scream lodges in my throat as vertigo hits hard. My knuckles turn white on the rail, fingers trembling. No way down that way.
David's hand clamps onto my shoulder, steadying me. "Focus forward," he barks. "Just keep moving."
So we do, one excruciating step at a time, praying the stairs hold under our weight as the building slowly collapses around us...
GENERATION 2:
My heart races as I'm jolted forward by an unexpected impact, my hands flying out to brace myself against the desk. Glass shards rain down around me like a deadly hailstorm, tinkling onto the carpeted floor and embedding themselves into the furniture. I can hear screams echoing through the open office space behind me as people scramble for cover.
"Oh God," I gasp out, my voice trembling even as my mind works overtime to process the situation. Another ear-shattering boom rocks the building again, and I duck instinctively, clutching myself tight. The floor beneath my feet shudders violently, metal groaning like a wounded beast.
My desk is wedged against one of the massive windows that make up most of our office's walls, but now it's just an open gaping maw, wind howling through the broken panes. I risk a peek over the edge and wish I hadn't. The city streets below are ant-sized, cars mere toys scattered across a child's play mat. My stomach lurches at the dizzying height.
Sirens wail from somewhere far away, barely audible over the cacophony of shattering glass and terrified screams. Another floor above us collapses in on itself with an earth-shaking crunch, sending shockwaves rippling through our office space. Ceiling tiles dance down around me like morbid confetti.
I force myself to breathe slowly despite my racing heart, trying to think past the panic threatening to overwhelm me. My phone! I pat myself frantically, relief flooding through me when my hand closes around its familiar shape in my pocket. Pulling it out with shaking hands, I dial 911 and pray someone on the other end is still alive to answer.
"Please," I choke out as a female voice crackles through the line, "We're trapped on floor twenty-one of the Continental building. It's...it's collapsing." A sob threatens to break free but I swallow it down hard.
"This is dispatch, stay calm ma'am. Help is on the way. Can you tell me if anyone else is with you?" Her voice remains impressively steady despite the chaos in the background.
"Yes, yes there are others," I manage to stammer out before another explosion rocks the building and cuts our connection dead. Cursing under my breath, I stuff my phone back into my pocket and peer around wildly for some sign of movement or life beyond myself.
"HELLO? ANYONE?" I yell over the din, straining my ears for any response. Please God let someone else have survived this nightmare...
The floor tilts ominously beneath my feet as if in answer, sending me staggering sideways into a filing cabinet with an oath. The contents spill out around me like an upended jigsaw puzzle, papers fluttering through the air and settling on the debris-strewn carpet. I cling to it for support even as warning bells clang shrill inside my head.
We're running out of time...
The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking. If there had been a wind it would have sighed through the trees, set the inn’s sign creaking on its hooks, and brushed the silence down the road like trailing autumn leaves. If there had been a crowd, even a handful of men inside the inn, they would have filled the silence with conversation and laughter, the clatter and clamor one expects from a drinking house during the dark hours of night. If there had been music…but no, of course there was no music. In fact there were none of these things, and so the silence remained
GENERATION 1:
The second part of the quiet was a deep, heavy sort of stillness—like the breath held before a lightning strike. This was the sort that comes with anticipation, or perhaps apprehension, as if some momentous event hung suspended in the air, waiting only to be released.
And then there was the third silence, which lay beneath all others, like a stone at the bottom of a well. It was the absence of sound itself, of any noise whatsoever—no insects trilling in the night, no crackling fire, not even the soft exhalation of breath or beating of a heart. As if something had come and swallowed all sound from the world.
This last silence seemed to press against the walls like an invisible weight. It was unnatural. Wrong. And yet, for reasons unknown, it did not quite seem unwelcome...as though it were only waiting for someone—or some thing—to break its spell.
In the dimness of the inn’s common room, a figure sat alone at a table near the hearth, unmoving save for the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. His face was cast in shadow, but the lines of it spoke of years and hard living. A half-empty tankard stood before him, condensation beading on its surface like sweat.
The silence stretched on, unbroken except for that distant rumble of thunder, now sounding very far away indeed. And still the figure did not move, as if frozen in time itself along with all else around it—waiting...for something...or someone...to shatter this unnatural calm and bring sound back to the world once more.
Suddenly, a floorboard creaked underfoot.
The silence shattered like glass.
GENERATION 2:
The second part of the silence was a weight, a tension that seemed to press down on the empty room like a stone hand. It was as if something waited, held its breath along with everything else, waiting for...what? A sound, perhaps. Or maybe for the spell that had frozen time and place to finally break.
The third part of the silence was a whisper, so faint it almost vanished beneath the weight of expectation. It came from above, from the room where the innkeepers lay abed, their sleep as deep and unnatural as if they had been drugged or...enchanted. The sound was soft, almost imperceptible, but there nonetheless: the slow, steady rhythm of a heartbeat.
And then, without warning, that third silence broke. Footsteps creaked on the wooden stairs leading down from above. They were light, careful steps, as if their owner feared waking something that had been long asleep. A shadow stretched across the floor and grew larger until it filled the doorway. And in that doorway stood a girl, pale and wide-eyed, looking out into the strange, empty inn with an expression of pure, uncomprehending terror.
"Hello?" she whispered, voice cracking like splintered glass on the air. "Is anyone there...?"
There was no response, only that heavy, waiting silence pressing down upon her like a stone. The girl shivered and took one small step forward into the room. Her bare feet made little sounds against the floorboards, echoing like gunshots in the stillness.
"I...I don't understand," she said, voice quavering slightly as she looked around at all the empty tables and chairs. "Where did everyone go?"
And then it hit her, all at once - the realization that something was terribly wrong here. That she shouldn't be awake when every other soul in this place lay sleeping like the dead. The realization that she was utterly alone...and that she had no idea why.
The girl backed away from the doorway quickly, as if afraid the silence itself might reach out and grab her if she stayed too long. Her heart pounded wildly beneath her nightgown as she turned to flee back up the stairs, but before she could take more than two steps a voice stopped her cold in her tracks.
"Don't run," it said softly from behind her. "It won't help."
She whirled around with a cry caught in her throat, eyes huge and terrified. And there he stood - tall, dark-haired man in black cloak and armor, leaning against the doorframe as if he had been there all along. His face was obscured by shadows but for the glint of ice-blue eyes that seemed to pierce right through her soul.
"W-who are you?" she managed to stammer out after an eternity of silence. "What...what's happening here?"
The man pushed off from the doorframe and took one slow step forward, cloak swirling around his boots. He stopped just short of reaching distance, studying her with an expressionless gaze that sent chills down her spine.
"Who I am isn't important," he said finally, voice low and gravelly like distant thunder. "What's important is why you're awake when everyone else isn't."
He paused for a moment, head tilted slightly to the side as if considering something. Then he shrugged, just barely. "I suppose it doesn't matter much anymore." He took another step closer, close enough now that she could smell the coldness on his breath.
"I'm here because someone called me," he continued softly. "Someone who knew what was coming...and wanted to make sure you survived it."
The girl backed away slowly until her back hit the banister behind her. Her heart hammered in her chest like a caged bird trying desperately to escape as she stared up at him with eyes wide and wild.
"Survived w-what?" she stammered out, voice trembling.
And then the world shattered around them with an ear-shattering boom that shook the very foundations of the earth. The floor beneath their feet heaved violently, sending dishes crashing to the ground in a cacophony of shards and splinters. The walls groaned and cracked, rafters splitting apart overhead like rotten bones. Plaster dust billowed down from above as if a blizzard had been let loose inside the inn.
The girl screamed, hands clapped over her ears as she fell to her knees in agony from the noise alone. But even through the deafening roar of destruction, she could still hear his voice above it all - calm, collected, utterly unruffled by the apocalypse unfolding around them.
"Run," he said simply. "And don't look back."
Then everything went black...and when light returned moments later, there was no sign left that either of them had ever been there at all. Just the broken, burning husk of what remained where once a quiet inn had stood...waiting for dawn to rise upon the ashes of what had been and herald in an age of blood and fire.
I'm 15 and I'm sitting at a table by the window, looking out over Toronto's skyline from the revolving restaurant in the CN Tower. It's Saturday night and usually this place is packed with tourists, but tonight there's only a handful of couples scattered around the dimly lit room. The waitstaff bustle about like ghosts, their white uniforms blending into the shadows cast by the rotating lights.
Suddenly, a deafening clang reverberates through the floor, followed by screams from the kitchen. I'm on my feet in an instant, heart pounding as I rush to see what's happened. Pushing through the swinging doors, I freeze at the sight before me.
A towering figure stands amidst shattered pots and pans, blood splattered across its bare chest. It turns slowly, eyes glowing like hellish embers. The Terminator. But this isn't a movie. This is real... and it's looking right at me.
"Fuck," I hiss under my breath, backing away as the robot begins to advance, heavy metal boots thudding against the linoleum. "Fuck fuck fuck!"
I'm about to turn tail and run when a gust of wind howls through an open window behind me, nearly knocking me off my feet. Glass shards slice across my cheeks as something massive slams into the outer wall with a sickening crunch. I whirl around to see a monstrous fin cutting through the air, its sleek black body glistening in the moonlight.
A shark. A fucking shark flying through the air and crashing into the restaurant like Godzilla on cocaine.
I'm paralyzed with fear as more fins breach the glass ceiling, gnashing teeth flashing in the fluorescent light. Screams echo from the dining room behind me, then cut short into gurgling death wails. The sharks are here for blood.
The Terminator doesn't even flinch at the aquatic apocalypse descending upon us. It keeps coming, relentless and remorseless. I'm trapped between a killer robot and a school of airborne predators with sharp teeth and an insatiable hunger.
"Well, shit," a familiar voice calls out from behind me. "This is certainly not on my list of 'Things To Do Before I'm Dead.'"
I turn to see the Doctor materialize out of thin air, sonic screwdriver already whizzing. He's wearing his signature tweed coat and bow tie combo, hair sticking up like he just woke from a nap. "Hello, hello! Sorry I'm late."
The TARDIS lands with a clatter in the midst of carnage as more sharks come crashing through walls and windows. The Doctor doesn't bat an eye, just grins at me like we're old friends meeting for coffee.
"Oh dear," he sighs dramatically, surveying the scene. "This is quite a mess you've gotten yourself into."
I can't find words to respond with the world ending around us, so I settle for a wide-eyed stare.
The Doctor pats my shoulder reassuringly as another shark's head explodes like a watermelon. "Don't worry, kid! The Doctor will fix it!"
He bounds forward, sonic screwdriver blazing, dodging sharks and laser fire alike with an agility that defies physics. With a wave of his hand, he redirects a stray bolt right back at the Terminator's chest plate, sending sparks flying.
"Oops! My bad!" The Doctor winks cheekily over his shoulder before vaulting onto a table, leaping off the edge to grab hold of a passing shark's dorsal fin. "Geronimo!"
I watch in dumbfounded awe as he rides the man-eating fish like something out of Jurassic Park meets JAWS, firing sonic blasts into gaping maws left and right. The sharks scream in pain, thrashing about wildly before plummeting to their watery deaths hundreds of feet below.
The Terminator's head turns slowly to follow its quarry, glowing red eyes tracking the Doctor's every move like a heat-seeking missile. It raises one massive arm, index finger extending with an ominous click. And fires.
"Nooo!" I cry out uselessly as The Doctor vanishes in a cloud of smoke and blood, his mangled body tumbling lifeless over the edge.
I fall to my knees, sobbing uncontrollably into trembling hands. This can't be real. It's just a nightmare... it has to be...
Suddenly, an arm wraps around my shoulders from behind, pulling me upright with gentle strength. "You're quite right," comes that familiar accented voice in my ear. "I'm still here."
I whirl around to see the Doctor standing unharmed before me, not a scratch on him. He brushes imaginary lint off his coat sleeves and grins sheepishly.
"Did you really think one measly shark bite would be enough to take down the Doctor?" He chuckles warmly, then glances back at the Terminator. "Now... about that robot..."
With renewed vigor, we charge forward side by side as one against the murder machine, dodging lasers and claws alike in a whirlwind of fists and firepower. The TARDIS booth swings like a baseball bat into the robot's head with a sickening crunch, sending sparks flying. I land a solid uppercut to its chin while it staggers, knocking out several teeth.
But still it keeps coming, unstoppable and inexorable. We're going down fighting but this thing doesn't know when to quit!
"Think fast!" the Doctor yells as something large and metallic hurtles toward us from above. I catch it in midair just as a shark's lifeless body slams into the Terminator's chest, knocking them both through the shattered remains of what was once a wall.
The pair tumble over the edge together, screaming obscenities all the way down until they disappear into the Toronto night sky.
I collapse onto my backside panting hard, every muscle in my body aching like I ran a marathon. The Doctor plops down beside me with an exhausted groan, chuckling breathlessly at our near miss.
"Well done, kid," he says, slapping my shoulder approvingly. "You've got quite the fighting spirit in you."
I manage a weak smile back as sirens wail from far below. Flashing lights strobe across the ruined restaurant walls like some macabre disco ball. The night air carries with it the coppery stench of blood and charred flesh.
It's over... for now anyway. But something tells me this is only the beginning of many more adventures to come alongside my new eccentric friend from another world...
"Ready for another round?" The Doctor grins roguishly, extending a hand up to help me rise. His eyes sparkle with mischief and promise.
And despite everything we've been through tonight... I find myself nodding with a grin of my own as he pulls me to my feet once more.
The night is young after all... and the Doctor has so much more universe yet to show me.
Using the following "story idea" below, write the first scene in the novel introducing the young woman. This scene should start in the middle of the action, include dialog, vivid passages, and end on a cliffhanger relevant to the story idea but it should also be unexpected. The scene should be 1000 words long and escalate in conflict and suspense and be written in first person, present tense with the point of view character being the young woman.
Story idea: In a world ruled by dictatorship, a rebel young woman leads a rebellion against the system. Despite the risks, she fights to overthrow the dictator and restore democracy to her country. The government executes her for treason, but she sticks to her beliefs and is responsible for starting the revolution.
My heart pounds in my ears as I sprint down the cobblestone alleyway, the sound of heavy boots echoing behind me. Sweat drips into my eyes, stinging as I blink away the salty haze. The city lights flicker overhead, casting long, dancing shadows that seem to reach out and grab at my ankles with every step.
"Stop!" A deep voice bellows from somewhere in the darkness, but I don't look back. There's no time for hesitation.
My lungs burn as I suck in air, the acrid smoke from a nearby trash fire stinging my throat. The scent of burning rubber and gasoline mingles with the coppery tang of blood—mine or one of my fallen comrades'. It doesn't matter now; all that matters is putting distance between me and the men who would see me hang.
The alley dead-ends, but a rusted fire escape zigzags up the brick wall ahead. Without breaking stride, I leap onto the first rung, my fingers gripping the cold metal as I pull myself off the ground. The rungs clatter like gunshots in the narrow space, but there's no other choice.
My arms tremble with exhaustion as I climb, every muscle screaming protest. Bullets whiz past my ear, ricocheting off the bricks and showering me with concrete shards. A searing pain explodes across my shoulder, and I let out a strangled cry as blood flows warm down my back.
I reach the roof's edge and haul myself over, collapsing onto the gravel-covered surface. Panting, I crawl on hands and knees away from the ledge until my back hits the metal lip of a ventilation shaft. Safe—for now.
The cool night air kisses the sweat from my brow as I press my forehead against the rough brick, trying to catch my breath. Sirens wail in the distance, the sound of backup coming to flush me out like a rat in a sewer pipe. My vision swims at the edges, and I force myself upright, bile rising in my throat.
"Kira!" A familiar voice hisses from somewhere in the shadows. "You okay?"
I turn to see Jax emerging from behind an old water tank, his dark skin blending into the night like a wraith. Blood smears his cheekbone, but his deep brown eyes are alight with that wild defiance I've come to crave.
"I'll live," I rasp, wincing as I touch my throbbing shoulder. "You?"
"Banged up, but breathing." He grins, teeth flashing white in the gloom. "Guess we picked the wrong night for a joyride."
I huff out a humorless laugh that quickly morphs into a pained grunt. "Understatement of the century."
Sirens grow louder, lights strobing across the rooftops like angry hornets. The SWAT team is closing in—dogs too, if I had to bet. No time for reminiscing.
"Come on." Jax extends a hand, pulling me to my feet despite my protests. "We've got one shot out of here."
He leads us across the treacherous shingles, ducking low as we skirt around satellite dishes and air conditioners jutting from the tar like metal tombstones. I follow his surefooted lead until he skids to a halt at the edge.
"What are you... oh God." My stomach lurches at the sight below.
A ten-story drop yawns into black nothingness, a cluster of ancient power lines swaying in the wind far, far down. The river snaked silver like a viper's tongue, reflecting starlight off its deadly coils.
"You're insane if you think I'm jumping that." I step back, shaking my head.
"Got a better idea?" Jax cocks an eyebrow, then jerks his chin towards the lights spilling onto the adjacent roof. "They're coming up fast."
I glance over my shoulder at the black silhouettes cresting the peak behind us. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
My gaze darts left and right, but there's no other way out. No other choice. Except maybe...
"Wait!" I grab his arm as an idea sparks to life. "Not jumping... swinging."
Jax frowns in confusion until understanding dawns, pupils widening in the pale light. "Shit, Kira. You're crazy."
"Crazy enough to still be breathing." I flash him a mad grin and turn towards the nearest power pole.
The metal latticework groans under my weight as I shimmy up the side, fingers burning from the rusted spikes digging into my palms. Adrenaline surges through my veins, drowning out the pain. I can hear Jax muttering curses behind me but don't dare look back.
At the top, I wrap my legs around the thick cable, hugging it tight like a lover. The wind whips hair across my face as I peer down into the abyss. Vertigo swirls in my gut, but there's no time to hesitate.
"Grab on and don't let go!" I shout over the howling gusts. "And for God's sake, keep your mouth shut."
I take a deep breath, pray to every god listening, then push off with all my might.
Gravity slams into me like a freight train as I plummet into the void. The wind screams in my ears, tearing at my clothes and hair. My stomach lurches into my throat. Oh shit oh shit oh fuck—
The cable sings a high-pitched wail as it whips taut beneath me. For one heart-stopping moment, I'm weightless, suspended between heaven and hell.
Then the world turns upside down.