The air rushes past his ears with a deafening roar as he falls end over end, plummeting towards ground he'll never reach. Spec attempts to right himself in the air, but due to a lack of experience, only succeeds in spinning around awkwardly.

"Shit… that didn't work. I think at this point I should just deal with it. Wouldn't want to work myself into a corkscrew or anything like that. I should probably just focus on what I'm going to do when I eventually 'land.' We'll have to see… if I end up in my usual spots, I'll just have to hope that this level is enough for the Hunters to lose my trail. They can't catch up to me here at least… maybe I'll get lucky and end up falling for the duration of the Hunt."

Spec smirks. Wouldn't that be nice? Deep down he realizes how unlikely this would be, though there's nothing wrong with having a little hope. His thoughts become interrupted as the chill of the air begins setting in, pricking at his face. Good thing he's wearing his sweatshirt. He fumbles with the zipper for a few minutes, before getting it closed successfully. The wild flapping of his clothes in the air certainly didn't make it easy.

"That's a little better… I guess at this point all that I can do is enjoy the view. I just hope that I end up clipping out of here before the 'fun' of this is gone… shit." Spec spreads out his arms and legs, trying to get as comfortable as he can. The smart idea would be to use this time to get some rest. He'll probably be on the run for the next few days, and he needs the energy.

Spec leans back into the nothingness, covers his head with his hood, and lets sleep take over.

---

Spec bolts awake in a dark field, covered in a cold sweat. How long has he been out? "Fuck… this isn't good. I've got no idea if the Hunters have even found my trail yet— where even am I? Is this Level 9?"

Spec drags himself to his feet, brushing himself off the best he can as he roots through his backpack to search for something useful.

"Haven't had to use one of these in fuckin' ages… wonder if I still have it— ah! There you are, you little beauty. Come to papa." Spec removes a small necklace, embedded with a Frvyo Jade in the center. A gift from one of his old friends at the M.E.G., given to him years ago after a particularly troubling incident involving a few rogue members of a now-defunct mapping organization. The piece of Frvyo Jade glows dimly with green light, signifying a presence nearby, but nothing too extreme. Yet.

Spec puts the necklace on, ensuring it's snug enough to not come flying off. Satisfied, he digs through his bag once more, searching for something specific. His fingers eventually lace around a walkie talkie, one heavily duct taped together. The thing looks like a heap of junk, with wires sticking out of it every which way. It's definitely a hazard. Spec pockets the device, and zips up his bag. With nothing else left to do, he begins his walk through the dark cover of Level 9, attempting to make his way back to 11. The more safe buildings he has to cut through in order to lose the Hunters, the better.

Spec is once again left alone with his thoughts as he traverses the tree lines that enclose the various suburban neighborhoods of the pitch-black level.

"Who the fuck even cuts the grass here? Like, why is everything so perfectly maintained? Surely the fucking Watch doesn't do it… can you imagine? A giant fucking spider-eye mowing the lawn?"

"I should probably apologize to Leo later. Leaving him alone with the Hunt like that was kind of a dick move… oh well, he'll be fine. They aren't hunting him right now. I wonder if I could have just hid with Blanche for the whole time? Tom and I have been meaning to hang out anyway… Nah, Herne would definitely consider that cheating.

"I never managed to put that information from Valentin to good use. I wonder if The Rat Master is even around these days. Maybe Evie has an idea… I could pick her brain the next time I see her. She owes me one after I traded for some information on The Warren Jester to give to her, doesn't she?"

"Is that a fucking str-"

Spec promptly dives into the bushes, as the beam of a Strider crosses over the patch of grass where he was standing only a moment ago, petrifying the greenery into sharp lines of stone.

Spec is hardly shaken up by the near-miss of the strider beam, all things considered. He reasons that even if it had made contact, it probably wouldn't have effected him anyways. His main issue is that once spotted, he'd have nowhere to run. Being able to survive the petrification beam wouldn't matter if he gets squashed like a bug five minutes later. Taking this into consideration, he decides to continue making his way through the underbrush.

His sneaking is cut short however, when he hears the tell-tale yelling of Hunters a distance behind him. "FUCK!" Spec thinks to himself, nearly shouting the word aloud. "If the Trackers found me already, I don't stand a chance getting to my destination… At this rate, I'm going to have to make a run for it. Maybe the Watch will get distracted by the hunting party, I know most entities are hostile towards them as well." Steeling his nerves, Spec dashes out of the tree line, sprinting across the common area that divides the various neighborhoods of Level 9. Upon reaching the sidewalk, he turns around to check his surroundings. Sure enough, the hunting party is onto him.

Spec takes a good look at his stalkers. Currently, they're a good football field or two away from him, allowing enough leeway to think of something. He'd have to make haste though, as they were getting closer by the second.

His hand instinctively goes for the strange walkie-talkie device nested in his breast pocket, but he realizes that his assailants are still too far away from him for it to be any use. Putting it back in, he begins to weigh his other options. As the hunting party gets closer and closer, he finally settles on the deck of cards he packed for sticky situations like this one. Not an ideal choice, but if it meant survival, any chance he could get was good.

Spec hastily makes his way between the houses, weaving through yards whenever he can to make as much distance as possible. As he checks over his shoulder once again, he realizes its almost no use. The Hunters are still gaining on him— they're just too agile. All he's doing is slowing himself down; they want an authentic chase.

Spec steps out into the open road, facing down the Hunters. Whether a blessing or a curse, the Watch is nowhere in sight. The Hunters are closing in now, only a house or two away. A few in the back draw their bows, but leave plenty of space for the leaders of the band to get in close with their bladed weaponry.

"Sup fellas?" Spec quips. "I can't believe you fell for my little diversion back there. Were your heads in the clouds or something when you followed me through that door?"

The Hunters don't give him the luxury of a response, outside of keeping their weapons trained on his head.

"Fuck, I know you can understand me. Can you just say something? It's fuckin' creepy. Bastards." Spec rolls his eyes, his sharp tone signifying his annoyance. Despite his prodding, the Hunters continue their calculated approach.

He flicks open the box for the deck of cards as the Hunters inch closer. A storm of Tarot cards fly out from the deck, hovering in the air in between Spec and the Hunters, spiraling around in an ethereal display of shuffling.

"It's been fun fellas, but I think its time we made things a bit more interesting. Lets have fate decide the outcome of this little encounter here, shall we?" Spec extends his left hand, making a 'scissors' symbol with his index and middle finger. An upside-down tarot card flies out from the spiral, into his outstretched hand. He smirks as he flips the card over, reading the name aloud.

"The Tower."

Everything begins to happen at once. With a thunderous boom, the ground beneath Spec's feet begins to shake. The members of the hunting party opposite to him look at each other in confusion, trying to make sense of the situation. Multiple streetlights lining the sidewalks of the suburbs begin to burst and fizzle out.

"I hope you fucks brought your climbing boots, because this diversion is peak." With that, the ground begins to crack as a mountain begins to form underneath Spec, raising him at least 50 feet into the air. A few of the hunters attempt to grab ahold of the moving ground, but are thrown back to the street as more and more dirt continues to swell into the massive construct.

Spec looks down on the warband as they begin to start their trek up the steep obstacle. There's no point in hanging around for a view. Making haste, Spec digs through his backpack once again, retrieving a small sled. While it'd probably be of more use in a snowier level, it'd certainly do the job. Not wanting to waste any more time, Spec quickly pushes himself down the hill. After a quick slide down, he breaks out into a sprint towards Level 11, leaving the sled behind.

"That probably bought me about two minutes… I'm going to need another distraction." Spec swivels his head around, trying to get a sense of his location. Without his contacts doing the heavy lifting, he's pretty much entirely reliant on his knowledge of the area, which isn't ideal. "Telephone wires have started appearing… which means I'm close to the transition area. I should be in the right spot for another diversion." Spec's hand goes to his pocket, and he grabs the mangled walkie-talkie. He slows to a walk, wanting to conserve as much energy as he can for the final sprint to 11. The sounds of distant yelling behind him signals that the Wild Hunt has made it over the hill, and have begun chasing him down once again.

Resolving to hold his ground, Spec draws a line in the grass with a nearby stick, and waits for the Wild Hunt to come into view.

He doesn't have to wait long.

The lead Hunter steps into the light of a nearby streetlight, its rocky and crystalized body reflecting the glow of the lamp post in a kaleidoscope of color. It points its sword in Spec's direction, and makes a 'cutthroat' motion with its free hand.

"Classy." Spec observes. "Wanna get closer and try that, big boy? Or are you too much of a bitch to engage me without the backup of your underlings?"

The lead Hunter doesn't seem to react to his verbal jab, continuing its steady approach as its fellow Hunters begin to file in.

Spec scowls, kicking at the ground. "I wouldn't step past that line if I were you. I mean it, shitwits. You don't want this smoke." Spec says with a smirk, as he continues to inch backwards. The Hunters seem to pay him no mind, continuing their methodical approach. The leader turns to one of the Rangers, giving them a slight nod. The rest of the Rangers fan out behind the main hunting party, standing back at a safe distance and taking aim as the group of Trackers cross over the line.

"Well shit." Spec says flatly, unzipping his sweatshirt pocket. "Y'all asked for it." Spec retrieves a pair of sunglasses and earplugs, quickly putting them on. Without another thought, Spec hits the button on his walkie-talkie, throwing it to the ground.

The next few seconds collapse into absolute chaos. The brightness of the nearby streetlights increases tenfold, temporarily blinding the warband. Immediately after comes a screech of loudspeakers turning on, their crackle echoing across the plane of Level 9 as 'Bringin' on The Heartbreak' by Def Leppard begins to blast with brain-splitting volume. The Hunters stumble about, covering their ears on instinct from the sheer amount of noise. Some of them fall to their knees.

Spec however, reaches into his worn sack, and retrieves a small asymmetrical object. He holds it up towards the Hunters, and begins his lecture. "Just to show you I wasn't lying about the whole 'walk away' thing, let me explain to you what this does. This here is a pocket. These little guys, for whatever reason, really piss the fuck off of the Neighborhood Watch whenever they sense a wanderer holding one. As you can obviously see, I am currently fulfilling that criteria. The music blasting at heart-stopping volume surely doesn't make them very happy either, so you can expect them to show up any moment now. However, this isn't the only use pockets have. They also are exceptional at storing items…" Spec snaps his fingers, and a small black and silver object appears in his hand. It has a small angle, with one end jutting out further than the other. As the disorientation from the sensory flashbang wears off, the Hunters can see clearly what he's holding. A revolver.

"This here is a .500 Smith and Wesson Magnum revolver, or more commonly known as the loudest handgun ever produced. It took me years to find one here, and boy did it cost me a pretty penny. But I think its price will prove to be worth every cent."

Spec points the pistol at the head of the lead Hunter. "Say goodnight, General Zaroff. It's been fun." As Spec curls his finger around the trigger, he does something unexpected, even for the Hunters. He points the gun upwards at the last moment, firing all of his rounds into the sky, each with a shattering BOOM that sends the Hunters reeling onto their backs. Seconds later, a massive scream rings throughout the eardrums of all present.

Spec throws the empty gun to the dirt, kicking some leaves over it. "Seems like that finally got someone's attention. Good luck, chums!"

As the main line of the chorus hits, the final portion of Spec's trap falls into play. The music not only served as additional bait for the Watch, but also as a timer…

A timer for the numerous smoke bombs planted on top of the lampposts.

Spec breaks into a sprint as they detonate, covering his escape. With the combination of the lights, blasting audio, gunfire, smoke, and pocket, surely there was enough pandemonium for him to slip away with all his bases covered. As the screaming of the Wild Hunt engaging with whatever monstrosities he'd awakened fills his ears, he can't help but smile.

"Shit… I've wanted to do that for SO FUCKING LONG!"

With most of the Neighborhood Watch converging on the poor Hunters behind him, Spec makes his way into Level 11 with relative ease.