Page 4 of Ruined Omega

As you work your way downward, however, the city’s tiers get progressively darker, dirtier, and more dangerous.

And that’s where we are heading right now.

I gaze out the window as the vehicle swoops down one of the curving ramps leading into the depths of the hive. The light rain disappears as we move into the dark heart of the city.

CHAPTER 2: TALIESIN

By the Source, this place is a human termite mound. Towers and spires piled up, one on top of the other, forming an ugly mountain of steel and glass teeming with mindless human life. I guess that’s why they call it a hive.

Even up here on the highest tiers of the city, the hot air reeks of pollution and rotting garbage from the levels below. The roar of traffic and the shriek of car horns is so loud it pains my hypersensitive ears. Huge digital signs displaying video advertisements cast garish streaks of light across the building fronts.

The city hive is a storm of noise and color and smells. Especially smells.

Sensory overload.

I hate it.

But worst of all are the people. Hordes of them. I watch the crowds of pedestrians surging up and down the sidewalks like a tide of flesh and blood and bones. Their minds are so blunted by years of living in this place that they aren’t even aware of how hot and ugly and smelly it is. It’s as if their senses have been turned off. Each one is barely aware of anything beyond their own little bubble of consciousness. Ears plugged with earbuds. Eyes locked on tiny handheld screens, hypnotized.

Not a single one of them is aware of me, crouching in the inky shadows of the alleyway, mere inches from where they are walking, all of them lost in their separate waking dreams.

So be it. That just makes my job that much easier.

I turn my mind away from these musings and focus my attention on the glass front of the restaurant across the street.

That’s where my target is.

She’s in there with that pathetic excuse for a man.

From amid the white noise of traffic and pedestrians and rattling ventilation units, I notice another sound approaching. A low, warbling hum growing louder by the second.

Shit. It’s a security drone.

It’s a small, hovering orb about the size of my fist and studded with optical lenses. I don’t see many of those down in the lower tiers of the hive, but they are plentiful up here in the wealthy sectors. Their main role is to drive off the homeless.

As the drone hovers past the opening of my alley, it pauses and turns toward me. There is a faint whir of internal machinery as its lenses focus and scan me.

Damn it. Even these deep shadows can’t conceal my heat signature from this machine.

“No loitering,” the drone says in a tinny, artificial voice. “Code XJ933. Please move along, citizen.”

“Fuck off,” I say with a low growl.

Crap. This stupid thing is going to blow my cover. Still, none of the braindead zombie-citizens scurrying past on the sidewalk have even noticed. These people are worse than the betas back in the Zone.

“Citizen,” the drone continues. “You are now in violation of Code ZZ49B. Failure to comply with a municipal security drone. Please present your ident—“

My patience, which is already in short supply to begin with, abruptly runs out. I snatch the drone out of the air, palming it easily. With a swift motion, I crush it against the bricks of the alley wall.

“There’s my identification,” I mutter, tossing the remnants over my shoulder.

Half a second after, I realize what a dumb move that was. I’m pretty sure there’s some kind of system to alert the cops when a drone has been destroyed. This place will probably be swarming with police in a few minutes.

Still, I can’t leave yet.

Not now. Not while the target is alone with an unknown individual.

Luckily, I don’t have to wait long. Right on schedule, they come out of the restaurant entrance. One of them is the man—the little bald creep whose name I don’t know. But I barely even notice him. All of my attention is focused on his date, the woman in the red dress.