Coming Undone

Chapter 9: Sparks of Treason

Runt looked up.

The edge of the sun was just starting to peek over the sculpted skyline of downtown New Medina, bringing with it searing rays, the same rays that were pressing Runt closer and close to the red brick wall on his right as he shadowed his way down a sidewalk. He squinted his eyes and lowered his body a little more. Heat was unwelcome.

Good thing we're meeting indoors. Runt thought to himself, turning a corner into a more shadowed street. The concrete under his feet was already uncomfortably warm, and more heat from New Medina's scorching sun would only add stress to his body. Stress he could avoid by taking a detour through shaded streets lined with striking, Arabic-style architecture. His eyes traced the peaks of minarets, and delved through hand-painted teardrop arches.

Despite the hellish atmosphere and terrorism, New Medina did have a charm to it.

It must have been truly breathtaking before the war.

Shade hit Runt's face like cold water, pulling his eyes up. Sandstone cliffs laced with stairways and capped with glowing architecture towered over Runt and blotted out the searing sun, and served to remind Runt of New Medina's third dimension: depth.

Runt's footsteps started to clank as he trotted into the shade. The concrete and paving fell away like a beach, giving way to steel grate and plating. The cliffs towered above, but below, a gorge plunged two-hundred yards into the earth. Both were features of the desert world Runt had adapted to. Cliffs criss-crossed the city, and gorges sliced their way under the grand metropolis. They created a mosaic across the desert of highs and lows, whole districts of the city built high above, or carved out down below. Thousands of people baked on the clifftops, lounging under palms and soaking in the vistas of red rock and scorched desert, and thousands more sheltered in the gorges, insulated from the solar fires and scathing sandstorms as they moved New Medina's industry from beneath.

From another of the rusted bridges, Runt's silhouette could have been lost in the greys and reds of old steel. He'd spent hours navigating the vertical and the horizontal in New Medina, and he understood how to get around without bringing attention to himself.

Traveling like a true Springer certainly helped.

Runt looked down, through the grate. Below, shadows deepened and life bloomed. He could see to the bottom of this gorge, his vision cutting through the tangle of fall-nets, cables, pipelines, walkways and more. At the very bottom, roads ran and carried traffic. Walkways teemed with humans and more, lights glittered upwards at him like abysmal stars and the cool, quiet underground offered him shelter from merciless skies.

He knew better than to heed the temptation.

New Medina's underground was flooded with people during the day. And more eyes meant more chances to get spotted. Being 'in public' would not protect him on New Medina. If assassins found him in a crowd, he'd die there too. And little would be done about it.

The solution was a strenuous approach.

Hopefully Quix is staying out of the tunnels. He thought, dodging through a sparse crowd as his feet found concrete once more. He peered up as he dug into one of his hip pockets, tracing his route vertical with his eyes.

The quiet hum of electric engines and chattering crowds filled up the street as Runt pulled gloves from his pocket and slipped on his climber's gloves. Springer's fingers were tough enough... but he preferred a little extra grip. He looked both ways before he jumped.

To his left, the city center. Skyscrapers, massive drones hovering above, all nestled into the backdrop of mountains in the far, far distance.

And to his right, industry. Factories and facilities sprawled for miles, stretching into the distance and puffing smoke and water vapor into the atmosphere as they very nearly obscured the docking scaffolds, towering into the sky on the edge of the city.