Description

The rain fell on Neo-Aethelburg in greasy, iridescent sheets. Kael, known on the streets as "Steel Runner," leaned into a turn, his custom carbon-fiber bike slicing through the flooded underpass. His legs were pistons, his breath a steady rhythm against the city's chaotic symphony of sirens and neon. On his back, sealed in a waterproof courier pack, was Package #734: a simple, non-descript data-tile for a Mr. Silas at OmniCorp Plaza. A standard high-priority drop.He never took the easy routes. While grid-locked hover-vehicles honked impotently overhead, Kael wove through drainage tunnels and pedestrian walkways, a ghost in the machine. He