Another shot, probably to scare her. Footsteps on the concrete, the Agents running after her. Jen reached the next parapet, noticing that a third building was accessible, if only she could absorb the impact of a full story’s height. She decided that she could — did she have any other choice? — and jumped again. She had done this a few times already, when she was still operating with the Prince and Fr3d, and the old reflexes were kicking in again, along with the empowering feeling of being able to take on these Agents all by herself. She could run fast, very fast, when her life depended on it, and now was a good moment to use this skill as its fullest.

She allowed herself a smile; there, on her right, the metal clips of a fire ladder, offering her another way to escape. She seized the opportunity, getting down as quickly as she could, knowing that this would buy her a few seconds of respite, until the Agents realized where she had gone. The old architecture of the Underworld was so much convenient in that regard, every structure connected to the other, every street leading to a handful of smaller ones, every corridor opening on doors that could turn to be life-savers. Had she been living in the Hawking Dome above, with its straight streets, its tall and closed buildings and its wide avenues allowing the use of VTOLs, she would never have been able to last that long against Corporate Agents.

They were still after her. Three other shots echoad in her ears, the last one ricocheting on one of the metallic bars, followed by the well-known order of stopping where she was. Panic and excitement were mixing in her, exacerbated by the shards of pain coming down her hurt shoulder. Jen wouldn’t obey, wouldn’t stop and give up; instead, she didn’t even take the time to get the ladder down to the ground, jumping directly to the pavement. She was in Collins Street now, near the Cabs Central for this floor of the Underworld, and catching one would be an easy task compared to what she had done in the past ten minutes.

Never stopping in her tracks, Jen dived in the idle walking and chatting of the crowd, until she could see the familiar orange color revealing the presence of a cab. Oblivious to what was around her, she raised her uninjured arm to catch the driver’s attention, jumped right into the vehicle without even waiting for it to fully come to a halt, and let herself fall on the rear seat.

“Colony Street”, she said in a panting voice. “Corner with Simmons. Quick.”

The driver knew better than to ask questions. The next second, they were gone.

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