The day progressed with predictable rhythm. I encountered the occasional lone gunman—disgruntled factory workers or farm laborers pushed beyond sanity's edge. By evening, I'd completed one assignment out of nine attempts, adding a substantial 15,000 credits to my account. A good day by any measure. As customary, I found solace on a rooftop, savoring a cigarette as the clock approached 22:00.

  Tonight, the sky revealed a rare clarity, the canopy of stars interrupted only by the colossal space freighter that dominated ToxCity's skyline. As wisps of smoke drifted upward, my neural interface interrupted with an incoming message:

  "Target Name: Cleo Hano

  Target Address: 6412 Nadan Road, Apt. 1558

  Target Distance: 5.32 Km

  Target Subscription: GOLD Tier

  Couriers Contacted: 18"

  My heart skipped. In my entire career, I'd never received a contract for a Gold Tier subscriber—never even known a living soul who'd achieved such a status. I refreshed my heads-up display to confirm I wasn't hallucinating. The contract remained. A genuine Gold Tier within the city center.

  The number of Couriers contacted was equally alarming. Eighteen. Rumor held that recruitment radius expanded with the subscriber's tier, and this confirmed it. The competition would be unprecedented.

  Projecting navigation onto my visual field, I engaged my leg overdrives without hesitation. On a rooftop across the street, another Courier glanced my way before intensifying his pace.

  I pushed harder. Leaping across the yawning gap between buildings, I rapidly closed the distance. My competitor was weighed down by thick, metallic piston-shaped arms enveloped in protective steel—built for combat, not speed.

  He produced a makeshift pistol, aiming at me. Without breaking stride, I slid sideways and seized the ledge, transforming into a wall-running shadow while maintaining my trajectory. The pursuing Courier made a desperate leap, a grappling hook ejecting from his back to anchor him to the building. As he clumsily traversed the wall, he fired again. The grappling chain tore through aged brickwork, sending debris cascading to the street below.

  Another shot echoed, but I'd already activated overdrive, vaulting to the adjacent building without losing momentum. Combat was unwise—his mechanized augmentations would likely overpower mine. Instead, I chose strategic withdrawal, taking an alternative route toward my objective. When I reached the next rooftop, he continued firing, but I was beyond effective range, disappearing into the night's embrace.

  My strategy was simple: sustain maximum overdrive, pushing my cybernetic legs beyond safety thresholds. The overheating would damage components, but a Gold Tier bounty would more than cover repairs. Warning indicators flashed across my vision:

  "Heating: 23% over safety target."

  With practiced precision, I drew my knife and sliced through my runner suit at knee level. As the fabric shredded, I triggered the emergency cooldown. Panels along my cybernetic legs swung open, mechanical underpinnings exposed as steam billowed out to dissipate accumulated heat. The warning receded to 8%, and a sixty-second cooldown timer materialized on my display.

  I was traveling faster than ever before, the world blurring into obscurity, urban cacophony distorted by rushing wind. Tunnel vision set in, yet I maintained control through muscle memory and instinct. The remnants of my natural skin began to smolder as winds and abrasive dust inflicted countless cuts on exposed flesh. My runner suit tore from the sheer velocity.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Republic Avenue appeared ahead—eight lanes across, one of the widest thoroughfares in this sector. Normally, I'd descend to street level for this crossing, sacrificing speed for safety. Not tonight. Despite the warning indicators already flashing, I pushed my overdrive even harder, redlining the system beyond manufacturer specifications.

  "Heating: 34% over safety target."

  Trusting my augmentations, I leapt. Fueled by the reckless burst of additional power, my jump exceeded all expectations. Instinctively, I shielded my face as I crashed through a neon-lit billboard—ironically advertising cybernetic leg extensions. Splinters, dust, and sparks erupted in my wake.

  My landing proved less fortunate. I overshot my mark entirely, crashing into the fa?ade of a building across the street. Momentum carried me through the wall and across tiled flooring until the opposite wall finally arrested my slide.

  My head spun. Multiple warnings flared across my display. There was no time to recover. I pushed myself upright amid the bewildered stares of the room's occupants, seized the jagged edge of the hole I'd created, and hauled myself back onto the rooftop.

  My overheat warning flashed at a dangerous 49%, but only 21 seconds remained before the emergency cooldown could reactivate. I pressed on, scanning my surroundings while pushing my legs beyond their limits once more.

  "Heating: 63% over safety target."

  I ignored the warning, focused solely on my objective. Every sense heightened to maximum alertness. Suddenly, instinct surged—I barely managed to raise my arms to deflect a massive battle hammer swinging toward my head. The impact sent fragments of metal and glowing sparks scattering as I slammed violently onto the rooftop.

  Before I could identify my assailant, the hammer swung again. Rolling frantically, I narrowly evaded the crushing blow that gouged a crater in the concrete surface.

  Looking up, I confronted another Courier—a hulking behemoth whose upper body was a mosaic of mechanical parts and exposed wiring. His face was a featureless chrome plate with a single, menacing crimson eye at its center. He reared back, preparing another strike.

  The design looked familiar—heavily augmented with neural interfaces routed through a central cortex processor. I'd seen similar models falter during power surges in the downtown tech district.

  With the hammer poised above me, I triggered my Kozec shield. A calculated risk, but my only option. The device in my chest unleashed a localized EMP charge, forcibly propelling the mechanical monstrosity backward. His red eye dimmed to darkness, confirming my gamble had paid off—most of his body was mechanical with minimal biological shielding. He would remain incapacitated for some time, his systems requiring a full reboot cycle.

  Without pause, I reactivated my leg augmentations.

  "Heating: 87% over safety target."

  I initiated emergency cooldown. Steam billowed from vents in my legs as the overheat alarm dropped to 59%. But suddenly, a red warning flashed across my display. My cybernetic limbs slowed, emitting an ominous mixture of oil and sparks.

  "Emergency Cooldown Damaged, risk of fire 92.6%."

  Cursing under my breath, I accessed internal settings and shut down the faltering cooldown system. It wouldn't function again without repairs. I steeled myself, determination eclipsing fear.

  The target was tantalizingly close—only 281 meters remained. After a brief pause to let my systems stabilize, I made a calculated gamble, engaging overdrive once more. Vaulting across rooftops, I approached my destination with reckless speed.

  Upon reaching the target building, I encountered three Couriers locked in violent combat, blade weapons casting shimmering arcs of light, tracer rounds painting luminescent chaos across the night.

  Seeing the battle rage on the rooftop, I knew another direct confrontation would cost me precious seconds—seconds I couldn't afford to lose. Instead, I analyzed the building's architecture, counting floors and mapping windows against the provided apartment number. Floor fifteen, third window from the left—that had to be it. The calculation was based on partial data and architectural assumptions, but it was my only path forward. A furtive glance at my status:

  "Heating: 74% over safety target."

  Convinced that fortune favored the bold, I risked everything. Engaging overdrive one final time—knowing my systems couldn't withstand another surge—I catapulted into the void and crashed through my targeted window. My legs ignited in response to the reckless acceleration. I landed hard, instantly deactivating all non-essential enhancements to extinguish the flames that licked at my cybernetic limbs.

  Glancing around, I found myself in a room conspicuously empty save for what appeared to be the body of a middle-aged man seated in an armchair.

  My target.

  Despite the chaos of my entrance—glass shards raining down and smoke curling from my overheated legs—the room maintained an eerie stillness.

  As I prepared to rise, an unexpected voice shattered the silence:

  "And so, it begins," the voice was calm, almost musical.

  I froze. The supposed corpse had just spoken. Beyond all protocol, beyond all reason—my target was very much still alive.