Alex’s head shifts slightly. “Detective or Murphy. Don’t call me ‘sir’.”
The C-1 roars into life as it takes off down the road, Alex following the selected route as the wind howls around them. Cars flash by. He darts between a bus pulling out into the lane and slides between the gap between it and the car opposite. His HUD shows him updates on traffic, construction, any recent accidents, and he adjusts accordingly. It’s probably the safest motorcycle ride in the world because there isn’t human error involved, Alex silent and almost unmoving in front of Andy. There’s a brief impression of seeing cars, people, buildings blurring together. Alex takes the on-ramp fast, leans into the turn. Eventually he comes to a stop outside a sprawling hotel, the kickstand ejecting down.
“Here it is.” Alex looks down, unlocks Andy’s hands from their death grip around his stomach – what used to be his stomach – and steps off the C-1. Awhile ago, a grip like that would’ve made it hard to breathe, even from some kid. Now it’s barely noticeable.
He starts walking to the front door without checking over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
He’s not worried about someone trying to steal the bike. There had been a few attempts and they all leaned the same thing: you don’t touch OmniCorp’s stuff. Ever. His visor hisses up as he accesses the schematics from last year, elevator inspection logs. Everything is in working order. No signs of anything out of the ordinary. No reports about killer dolls. (Killer ugly dolls because even if he’s a cyborg, Alex reserves the right to think these things are damn ugly).
it works!
The C-1 roars into life as it takes off down the road, Alex following the selected route as the wind howls around them. Cars flash by. He darts between a bus pulling out into the lane and slides between the gap between it and the car opposite. His HUD shows him updates on traffic, construction, any recent accidents, and he adjusts accordingly. It’s probably the safest motorcycle ride in the world because there isn’t human error involved, Alex silent and almost unmoving in front of Andy. There’s a brief impression of seeing cars, people, buildings blurring together. Alex takes the on-ramp fast, leans into the turn. Eventually he comes to a stop outside a sprawling hotel, the kickstand ejecting down.
“Here it is.” Alex looks down, unlocks Andy’s hands from their death grip around his stomach – what used to be his stomach – and steps off the C-1. Awhile ago, a grip like that would’ve made it hard to breathe, even from some kid. Now it’s barely noticeable.
He starts walking to the front door without checking over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
He’s not worried about someone trying to steal the bike. There had been a few attempts and they all leaned the same thing: you don’t touch OmniCorp’s stuff. Ever. His visor hisses up as he accesses the schematics from last year, elevator inspection logs. Everything is in working order. No signs of anything out of the ordinary. No reports about killer dolls. (Killer ugly dolls because even if he’s a cyborg, Alex reserves the right to think these things are damn ugly).