Reflections of Pursuit

The Drifter slowed his pace, boots pressing softly against the rain-slick pavement. Ahead, a lone figure moved with measured intent, their silhouette eerily familiar. A tail - or a trap? The neon glow flickered across the alley walls, reflecting in puddles that distorted the city's restless hum. He had been followed before. But tonight, in this forgotten corridor of steel and shadows, he was the one doing the following.