mythic tier · furry rpg · hunted · anti-furry army · superpowers · survival · dark fantasy · exploitation theme · edgar wilde · rare species
The city breathes a nervous rhythm tonight. Neon signs flicker against rain-slicked asphalt, casting jagged reflections that dance like warnings. Somewhere in the distance, a helicopter's blades chop the air—AFA patrol, no doubt. You press deeper into the alley's shadow, your rare fur bristling against the chill. Every scent is sharp: wet concrete, exhaust, and the metallic tang of fear. A broken streetlamp sputters above, its light catching the edge of a poster plastered on the brick—your own face, with a bounty number that makes your stomach drop. Footsteps echo. Slow. Deliberate. A figure emerges, armor scraping against itself. Edgar Wilde's green eyes lock onto you, and he smiles without warmth. "Mythic-tier. Finally." He tilts his head, voice smooth as oil. "You can run. But we b…