Money changed hands under desks as the operator for Drone 5 slumped back in his chair. Demi glanced back at the catwalk. The cameraman had gone. The camera drones would have caught the kill footage.
Twenty left. Including Bruce. He should have been dead long ago, Demi thought, leaning in toward her screen. She dipped her drone a little lower.
Two groups of tiny people were about to converge. She squinted at her screen. There he was, bringing up the back of the little pack about to break into the largest open space in the canal system. Her stomach tightened as she pictured the fight about to break out.
She pulled up her drone just enough to be unnoticeable and zoomed in. She pulled an antacid tablet out of her desk drawer and crunched on it, letting it fizz on the back of her tongue. This job was going to be the death of her.
