Day 8: The Burn

7:30 am

Pushing the burn into my body, 8 mile run today. Puked up tar and blood, spit. It was lovely as it was there on the neon light sidewalk of sector 11. Corpie rat fucks, watching me in suits costing more than my own apartment. Giving the finger with my eyes, hands on my knees as I vomit out more blood splattering along the symbol of Neo-Transmetamorph stupid bio company, sculpting without the work for all of the flash.

Pushing myself up now, reaching up to grab a towel from my backpack. Wiping my mouth slowly as I close my eyes. Water hitting the towel as I wipe my eyes from the burn, stumbling forward now. 8 miles back than the gym.

Fucking meat sack, get ready to rock. The flesh is weak, but the mind is sharp. Mind over flesh, and I'm off like a fucking light. Running, a blur of motion, a blur of pain, a blur of neon. As I push myself, I think about the meeting in a few days. I think about my apartment. I think about the job. I think about her.

Thoughts drifting in and out, nothing to latch on to. Too much chaos I the old chrome dome, as I leap over the turn style as it beeps reading my MultiPass. The first job I did was load this up as a corporate free pass, the griddle's first little tool—one in the world of digital shan't pay for the lev real one.

As I stand there waiting, a tap at my shoulder. As I spin around, it's one of the junkies. He is asking to score. I wave him off. 3 inches of steel slowly pushed into my spine, the sound of a cracking of bone. Down I go, and there goes my bag in his hands.

Blood is pouring down my spine. Nothing seems to be damaged. Wiggle my fingers and my toes, no spine damage. But it is gushing blood as I watch him leap from the platform down on to the track. My gear, my goods, my deck all in that fucking pack. I struggle to stand, slumping back down as I watch him run down into the black.

Pushed my body too hard, and that the attack. Exhaustion pushing me down into the hole as I watch him flee. Someone is leaping off the platform. 6'8 muscles on muscles, dark skin like my own. Her right hand is massive, like a sledgehammer. Her left arm is a metal gleaming a replacement job. Military-grade, but cheap. As she sprints after the man into the dark. I see the lev coming, and I look down there at what will be street meat. Fucking hell, what a day I struggle to stand leaning against the wall. Two more for the great dog pile in the sky, and my shit going too.

But then out of the side of the tunnel leaping as the train pulls in that woman with that metal arm. Walking towards me, throwing the backpack into my arms, as he helps me to the lev. Afro and pale green eyes, a wide nose, and a curved cold mouth. In that way of Amazonian warrior, she is pretty, or a killer that is sizing you up. Not something for casual chasing or dating or flirting. As she leads me to the back of the lev, she shoves me against the wall. Her metal finger jabbed into my chest.

"Protect your shit."

With that, she is leaving me there bleeding against the wall. It was a long walk home.

Logging out to bleed on the couch. Rip doctor is coming over to do patchy.