The Game (Highpoint)

‘Damn it, that woman knew more.’ Highpoint thought, exiting the building and hopping onto his stashed hover cycle. A quick retinal scan and DNA sample and he was powering the bike at speeds in excess of 150 miles per hour through the streets of the ‘city’.

Navigating fifty feet above the street was easy enough to do, the occasional flagpole being the only impediment. He was able to let his mind/drive filter through the information he had amassed.

'The target is here, in the ‘city’. The hit has been assigned. My first attempt was someone either too scared or too loyal to really give me anything---I don’t know the where or when for the hit. I don’t know the target or the agent. I need to put together a role call of who is in the ‘city’ right now. So I guess I’ll wander over to the ‘Alley’ and see what’s cookin’.

Joaquin Cavanaugh could never be seen in Red Lantern Alley, however Highpoint knew that every city had its soft underbelly. In this case the ‘city’ had a pusy, maggot filled boil waiting to gut pop given the slightest provocation and he knew that when touched it would belch forth all the non-warm and fuzzy happenings in and around the ‘city’.

Ratcheting up the anti-inertia drive and with a practiced eye on the probability grid Highpoint motivated toward the only place in the ‘city’ where everything had its price.