Stray - Entry 2: The Dead City

Before me is an underground city that appears long abandoned. Derelict buildings in close proximity line a narrow and twisted street that is filled with trash. It is dark and gloomy save for some flickering neon signs amongst the broken structures. There are two mouse like creatures with a single large orange eye that scamper away as I approach.

I jump onto a trash bin and to a window awning to get over the tall fence to enter the city. A flicker above catches my eye. A metal box—a camera—tilts toward me. Its red light blinks, like a curious eye. I stop and stare back. It blinks again, then nods—ever so slightly.

I meow, uncertain. The camera nods again.

I don’t understand. But something here is watching me???

I press on, tail low, ears swiveling. Everywhere I look, the city is sick. I hear no voices, no birds, no heartbeat of life. Ahead, more small shapes scurry in the distance—tiny, pale creatures with too many legs. They squeak and scatter when I approach, slipping through cracks and under debris. Their appearance is unsettling. I stay alert.

Then, a light flickers. A neon sign buzzes to life, its arrow glowing faintly. It points ahead. Another light blinks further down the alley. Then another.

It’s as if the city itself is… guiding me.

I follow, padding through the gloom. A stagnant pool blocks the way, its surface thick with green scum. Floating barrels drift lazily across. I leap from one to the next, my reflection warping in the murky water below.

At the far side, a spinning fan blocks my path. The whirring blades slice the air, relentless. I glance around and spot a metal bucket nearby. I grab the handle in my teeth, hop up, and drop it neatly into the fan’s center. The blades grind to a halt with a metallic shriek. I slip through the gap, tail flicking behind me.

The city opens upward now—layers upon layers of scaffolding and rooftops. I climb. I move across narrow beams, leap to rusted AC units, and cross wooden planks high above the ground.

At the top of a ledge, I nudge a paint can perched dangerously on the edge. It teeters, then falls—crashing through a glass window below. The sound echoes like thunder through the empty streets. I peer down at the hole and leap through.

Inside, dim light flickers from a pile of screens.The monitors come alive as I land. One after another, they blink on—showing arrows, guiding symbols. I tilt my head, unsure if I’m being led or lured. Still, I follow.

A small metal bucket hangs from a cable ahead. I hop in instinctively. The bucket begins to descend, lowering me through the darkness. I ride down, until I am able to jump to the ground once more.

A shape lies ahead—a figure slumped in the shadows. I approach slowly, ears back. It’s not a creature… it’s a machine, twisted and motionless. As I step closer, it twitches—its lights flicker, its hand jerks. I hiss and leap back, heart racing. Then it falls still again.

I move past carefully, fur bristling.

As I walk through an alley to another street I stop. I hear it—a faint skittering sound. Dozens of small shapes move in the dark. The same pale, round things from before… but now, I can see their glowing eyes as they all turn to look at me. Red. Hungry.

I hiss, arching my back. The creatures squeal and rush forward. I run.

The ground blurs beneath me. They swarm from pipes, from holes in the walls, from alleyways. One leaps onto my back, teeth sinking into my fur. I thrash, twist, and fling it off. My paws pound the metal floor as I sprint through the maze of alleys and neon light.

Signs continue to blink ahead—arrows lighting up, one after another, urging me forward. I leap across a gap, heart pounding, and dive through an open window just as the last of the creatures screeches behind me.

Silence.

I’m safe—for now. The room is still, filled with cold blue light from dozens of monitors. Each screen displays an arrow, pointing deeper into the building. My whiskers twitch. Whoever—or whatever—is guiding me hasn’t stopped.

I step out through the other side of the apartment, climbing once again. The rooftops rise like uneven steps into the mist. I use loose boards, slanted awnings, and rolling barrels to keep moving forward, trusting the glowing signs to lead me.

Finally, I reach a narrow passage with another whirring fan blocking the way. But there—beside it—a small power unit hums softly, glowing. I bite the cable and tug. The unit pops free, its light fading. The fan slows… and stops.

I slip through the still blades into a small flat.