CyRun - Chapter 2

The mysterious man and old man Medici got out of the restaurant with guns on their hands. They looked left and right the small walkways made of metal –parking bridges- on the pouring rain, expecting more hitmen, but other than car lights going and forth, and huge holographic displays that lighted up the chilly night, they didn’t see anything.

“My car’s over there,” said Medici, pointing to his right.

The man stopped him and went over to check the car by himself. The polarized car windows were dark so he opened the back seat first. Inside was a man with a fedora, holding a thin laser wire on an African-American woman’s throat. Blood and sparks were coming out of her neck and mouth, one hand on her neck, the other waving desperately. The man cutting her neck stopped and turned to face the mysterious man in surprise with wide open eyes.

The mysterious man didn’t even blink. He shot at him twice. Once on the chest, the second time on the head. The assassin fell dead on the car’s floor along with the cable. The woman fell to a side.

The man looked over the car and under it. It seemed safe to him, so he signaled Medici to come closer.

When he arrived, the old man stared at the body of her bodyguard. “Is she dead?”

The man checked her pulse and shook his head. “Alive.”

“Put her on the back seat then and throw that asshole to the slums.” That meant throwing him off the car, off the bridge, and crashing down several kilometers to the city below, if he was lucky. Truth was there was a very big chance he would hit a random car instead, pulverizing his body in an instant.

The man did so without blinking, dragging the body by the legs and throwing it over the railings of the parking bridge. The falling body soon disappeared from view.

The man put his arms under the fallen bodyguard and lift her over the front seat, letting her fall on the back. “Hey, be careful,” said Medici.

The man shrugged and sat down, the steering column with stick paddles in front of him while Medici sat on the passenger seat. Before he could utter a word, the man was pulling the car out and merging into the traffic at top speed. Medici sank into the leather seat of his car.

After cutting a corner several blocks later, the man asked with a deep voice, “Address.”

“What?” Medici asked.

The man’s face remain cold and stoic, his eyes still half-opened. “Address.”

Medici stared at him. He didn’t know what to make of him, but there was one thing clear: he was very effective, and didn’t play around. Maybe he was loaded with cybernetics, maybe he had too much Fedesterone in his system or jacked some bad hardware on his neuro, but whatever it was it worked. “Peterson down in Bauchman.” He knew he didn’t need to say to go fast, he was already flooring it, swerving around, above, and below cars at speeds he had never seen.

Medici looked back. His bodyguard was unconscious, but breathing. Blood and oil had seeped from her open neck and exposed cybers and into the leather seats. He turned his sight upwards to the passing traffic, and saw a pair of headlights that shouldn’t be there, a car trying desperately to keep up with them. “We have a tail,” he said.

The mysterious man grunted as he threw a quick glace to the rear-view mirror. He shoved the stick paddles downwards, sending the car on the sudden dive. The car wasn’t going with the traffic anymore, it was plunging trough the horizontal lanes, missing other cars by mere centimeters. The ‘collision imminent’ sign lit up on the dash. The man ignored its beeping sounds.

“Oh god,” shouted Medici as he put on his seatbelt, his heart feeling like it was about to burst out of his chest. “You’re going to get us killed. Slow down.“

The mysterious man’s expression didn’t change as he twisted and turned the car around the almost suicide drive at top speeds, the available kilometers between them and the floor running out and fast.

Whoever was driving the other car began to open fire at them. The plinking of the bullets richotted off the transparent magnetic shield. It shined green before fading back again, as it was supposed to. The man did not ignore the ‘shield level’ indicator going down on the dash. “Nevermind,” Medici said. “Go faster.”

He grunted again as he lowered the window, gun in hand. He looked over his shoulder and fired at the chasing car. Medici covered his eyes in fear, thinking they were going to crassh.

By some miracle, they didn’t. It seemed as if the man had eyes on his back, the car still avoiding the traffic flawlessly.

The tailing car, due to speed and inertia, was having problems hitting them. The man was not, and all of his shots hit their shields. He didn’t stop until their shield shined red. That meant shield was running out of juice.

He went back inside the car, made sure there was still some energy on the magnetic shield, and put his seatbelt on. Medici saw him and did the rest, sweat pouring down the crown of his forehead.

The man turned his attention to the incoming horizontal line of cars and turned the car sideways on its axis, passing between two cargo trucks. After clearing it, he floored the break and turned the car upright in a single move. It seemed as if the car was hovering below traffic, waiting to merge.

By the time the driver of the tailing car saw them, it was too late.

The second the car crossed the horizontal traffic line, it crashed against Medici’s car, full force. The magnetic shield did its work and it made both cars bounce from each other like rubber balls. Medici’s car was sent flying against one of the many deserted buildings that infested the lower parts of the city. It crashed through a window and two floors. The mysterious man fought with the steering columns to regain control of the vehicle, but his expression remained cold and uncaring. He was able to regain control of the car after it the shield hit an iron bar.

The other car hadn’t been so lucky. It was sent flying towards another car and straight into a giant neon billboard. With its magnetic shield nearly depleted, it only covered it for the first impact. It exploded the instant it touched the ad.

The mysterious man took the car out of the building. “My heart,” Medici said, clutching his chest. “I feel as if my heart was about explode, and I just had it refurbished.”

The man said nothing.

Before merging back into traffic lane, they both caught a glimpse of their assailants’ fate. Medici grinned and relaxed into his seat. “Let’s get out of here before the dregers come around asking for questions.”