The mission is supposed to be easy. Mika and his gang of real-estate crooks only have to infiltrate a high-rise building and steal secret codes for a client. But the building is the ZENITH, the most fortified residential tower around, the codes are...
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They tucked their hands in the pockets of an oversized trench coat bought for this specific occasion. The Calphe Line wasn't known for extravagance as much as it was for anonymity. A blast of balmy air slapped the brim of their hat when the tube's doors split open. More bodies squeezed through the gap, adding to the sticky bodies and mixing breaths present inside.
Thank the Blocks, Laien thought to bring a scarf with them.
They picked at the scarf's edge and, despite the heat, wrapped it around their neck. They pulled it across their nose in time for the smoke from Mika's zooroo to waft across their face. The sickly smell—a mixture of burning rubber and the spent oil Laien used in their driftbike—hung in the air that people in their immediate radius found ways to copy them. Laien turned to Mika, who remained oblivious of the whole thing. His eyes followed with great attention all the high-rise buildings, the other lines of levcabs flitting through the horizon, and the rising sun climbing in the background.
They elbowed their leader. "Can you put that away? You're disturbing other people."
A frown pulled at the corners of Mika's lips. "Let them deal with it," he said. His ash gray hair, which he normally kept away from his face during missions, hung down his face and neck today. "A little smoke wouldn't kill 'em."
Research would say otherwise. Zooroos, a slang patterned after the company who manufactured it, the Zouh-Ruscoe Company, pertained to the sticks of rolled leaves with fancy benefits Laien couldn't care less about. It had become a health craze years before, but after careful study, it was found out to be the leading cause of brain burns and lung rot. Second hand smoke? Even worse.
Even though science has been closer than ever to curing the most incurable sickness, humanity would find new ways to kill itself.
Like the leader of their cadre here. Laien should have known better than to deter Mika into stopping inside the tube. The boy was addicted to the damn things; it's only a matter of time before he keels over with a blight growing in his organs.
Not that Laien wanted that to happen—they still have their mission to carry out—but if Mika insisted on destroying himself, there's little Laien could do about it. Cam and Kabe didn't seem to be bothered by the smoke, leaving Laien in their circle of fear.
Growing up in the Dhan-bernu District taught them how to value what they could easily lose. Lives, in general, comprised the short list.
A pointed sigh caught their attention. They whirled to the source to find Mika squashing the butt of his zooroo beneath a boot. He gave Laien a furtive glare. "Happy now?"
Was Laien ever happy? They shook their head at the beginning of the negative thoughts and smiled at their leader. "Thank you," they said. "You've made the other passengers happy too."
At that, the light scoff Mika gave almost flitted out of Laien's own lips. Of course, none of them were truly happy, especially on the way back to the squalid place that was Dhan-bernu. That's right. Laien found themself back to where they came from, even though they swore upon their family's graves they'd never look back.
