Her senses remained attuned to her surroundings. The city's nocturnal pulse, a throbbing bass of distant sirens, music from noisy clubs, and the whine of transport engines, all whispered of lurking danger. Shadows clung to alleyways, thick with the metallic tang of industrial exhaust fumes. A hot wind, carrying the all too common Chendiurian grit and dust of the streets, rose and swirled around her. Tan yellowish dust adheres to every surface.

Adi hardly notices the trash clogging the gutters, or the creative profanity-laden graffiti — some of it holographic, floating in the air. A trio of holographic, brightly colored koi swimming in the air catches her eye. An advertisement for The Whispering Chrysalis, a notorious meditation den for the very wealthy, floated between the fish 

Adi and her beloved Ozzy were hyperaware, every nerve singing with a heightened sense of readiness. Adi still has her microdrone swarm in reserve. She keeps her resource-hungry Multi Sensory Integration program running.

That alertness proved warranted as a group of young street gangers approached from the rear. Mike always said that she was a shit magnet. Adi’s Ozzy probably attracted the garishly uniformed criminals as her bike's two-liter bottle-sized fusion reactor is worth more on the black market than the whole bike. Although her bike is a few years old, Adi knows it is still valuable and worth more in parts than as a whole.

These young gangers must have more chrome than brains, Adi thought. Must be trying to impress someone and get patched in.

Chendiuria continues to suffer from chronic high unemployment; gangs are the only option for most youths. Adi doesn't find fault with young people who become gang members. Usually, gangers can spot one of her kind and know enough to leave her alone. 

The harsh neon and LED lights on the sides of the buildings provide enough light for her to pick out the approaching gangers easily. Adi could have seen the youths even in complete darkness. Looks as if she is teaching a painful lesson today. 

Without looking behind her, guided by her neural net, MSI program, and her Ozzy’s systems, Adi uses her ArcSpiker generally less-than-lethal pistol in her left hand across her body under her right arm, shooting three of the gangers in the groin. Male or female, 150,000 volts to the groin sucks major ass.

When a few of the non-twitching gangers looked like they were going to challenge Adi anyway, still without looking behind her, one of her regimental kukris appeared like magic in her right hand. She waggles the large knife in the air.

She gets off her bike as the gangers hastily grab their twitching and convulsing comrades and wisely retreat. Adi reloads her ArcSpiker with a fresh single-use disposable magazine. One significant drawback of the ArcSpiker is that the magazine only holds five rounds.

Adi didn't know that Marcus Kane had secretly placed a stealth microdrone on her since she left the bar with Rat.

Standing beside her softly idling bike, Adi debated her next move, her instincts urging caution despite the temporary sanctuary. While she doubted her pursuers could have caught up to her so quickly, Adi wasn't one to underestimate the reach of her adversaries. A glance at the memcube from her pocket added an extra layer of uncertainty—the message within was a puzzle yet to be unraveled.

Wondering how long the memcube has been in her pocket and thinking of who might have sent one to her, Adi calls Nyomi’s phone again, which goes straight to voicemail. Nyomi may be busy with a client, so Adi leaves a longer and more detailed voice message. In the message, she informs Nyomi that she has received another job from Rat and advises her to be cautious. The opposition is unknown, but has already shown a willingness to kill. 

Adi tries calling Nyomi's parents. Nobody answers their phones, so Adi leaves voice messages. Although nobody ever calls their minuscule 65th-floor oven-like one-room flat, Adi tries that number as well and leaves a message on the house system. She and Nyomi are too poor to afford a decent house bot. Nyomi's job and her veteran benefits are the only reasons Nyomi and she can afford their Hell's Kitchen-like flat in the city's lower outer edge. 

Adi doesn't experience deep, sorrowful grief over Rat's death. Instead, she feels pragmatic regret—one that centers on the potential income she lost with his passing. In the cold calculus of her world, his death meant not only the loss of a person but also the financial opportunities he had facilitated.

Despite her detached exterior, a nagging guilt lingers inside her. Deep down, Adi wonders if her focus on lost profitable opportunities has blinded her to a more appropriate, heartfelt mourning. She can't shake the feeling that she should have felt, and perhaps even shown, more genuine grief for Rat, even as she rationalizes that life must go on.

With the second bottle of water in hand, Adi took a final swig of water before securing the cap. Her Ozzy rested underneath her, a silent partner in her journey, its heavy metallic and composite frame gleaming faintly in the dim fluorescent and LED light. The wan yellow ambient light from the few working street lamps is not worth the electricity they cost. As she prepared to mount her mechanical steed again, Adi's thoughts lingered on the memcube, a symbol of the mysteries surrounding her.

The shadows beckoned, the city's pulse a constant reminder that the chase was far from over. Adi's hand tightened around the memcube with determination and trepidation, a reminder that answers waited to be uncovered amidst the chaos.

Adi places the half-empty water bottle in her bike’s food storage bin alongside four filtered drinking water bulbs and several more of the despised Sean Cawley ration bars. She also includes the food Rat gave her before he died.

The faint lingering scent of ozone from her Ozzy's fusion-powered twin turbine engine enveloped Adi in a temporary cocoon of stillness. The ceaseless cacophony of the city seemed to hush for a breath, a momentary respite amidst the turmoil. Her thoughts turned to the path ahead as her gloved fingers deftly unfastened clasps and connectors, each motion a step towards preparation.

Adi retrieved her VasqTech Revenant helmet, with its molecular-bonded flaming silver human skull face, from its locked compartment with practiced efficiency—an equal counterpart to her beloved superbike. Her helmet was the best a stupid amount of credits could buy. Rat had imported her helmet from Mars for her as payment for several earlier jobs.

Her flat black nanocomposites, graphene microfibers and ceramic-titanium alloy motorcycle helmet is the pinnacle of protection that a stupid number of credits could buy, a marriage of advanced materials and intricate cyber techs' craftsmanship. The cyber engineers calibrated and recalibrated her helmet's systems, tweaking the subprocessors and superconducting molecular circuitry, creating a symbiosis of engineering and instinct. Some of the very best cyber techs, legal or otherwise, massaged the intricate systems in Adi's helmet. Adi has barely afforded to keep her helmet's systems regularly upgraded.

Placing the helmet reverently on her bike's seat, Adi's gaze lingered on it for a moment before she turned to her next piece of gear—a carefully folded set of overalls. The flat black fabric, with slight camo ability, seemingly hungry for light, held an understated chameleon-like quality that hinted at its capabilities. 

Adi knew better—beneath its deceptive exterior lay a network of collapsed spider-weave cera-titanium fibers, interlaced with nanofibers and graphene microfibers, creating a barrier that danced on the boundary between flexibility and protection. The waterproof, electrically active outer fabric combines electronic textiles tied to her neural net by superconducting molecular circuits that will harden with a viscoelastic response to impact in a microsecond. Should she fall from her bike at speed, reinforced pads and ablation plates in critical areas offer additional protection.

Placing her weapons on the seat next to her helmet, Adi shook out her overalls and slipped them over her current clothes. While sealing the overalls around her body, Adi felt the subtle embrace of the fabric, a second skin that concealed her readiness for action. The world's unpredictability demanded such precautions, a truth that Adi had learned repeatedly. Wearing her helmet and coveralls, she reduced her body's heat signature to almost nothing.

Her attention shifted back to her helmet, a device encapsulating a world of connectivity and awareness. A soft hiss accompanied its locking mechanism, and the bond between helmet and wearer is a fusion of high cyber technology and trust.

While she replaced her weapons over her coveralls, her HUD updates flickered to life, presenting her with a wealth of information. Interfacing with her neural net, powerful surveillance, prediction, and combat programs, her helmet quickly updated itself to the present situation, adding to her heavily augmented perception of the world.

Connecting the Ozzy’s air hose to her helmet with a faint hiss, a glance at the readout confirmed Adi’s supply of oxygen—full tank, with a two-and-a-half-hour reserve. Adi's lungs drew in a slow breath, the reassurance of that minor detail a balm to her nerves.

One last step remained—ensuring that her heavy armament was ready. She accessed one of the concealed compartments of her superbike, retrieving her Shadowfury 15mm pulse machine gun. Using her neural net, Adi connected to her Shadowfury, checked it visually, and confirmed that her gun held two fully loaded 250-round drum magazines. Using a double belt-fed, pulse-fire bullpup-style general-purpose heavy machine gun is not the most practical of weapons, but with two magazines, she has found that she can usually outgun opponents. 

The weapon was deeply meaningful to her, a sign of her willingness to test legal boundaries. The rifle’s presence carried with it the weight of potential consequences—a possible fine, prison time, or even time at a hard labor penal colony for owning a modified heavy MG. Going to a local prison until she paid off a “weapon fine” didn’t appeal to Adi, nor was it financially workable for her. However, for Adi, the risk was not a reckless gamble, but a carefully calculated decision, an investment in her autonomy and survival. 

Adi’s neural net and fingers also verified that the grenade launcher’s magazine currently holds four high-velocity high-explosive fragmentation grenades. The Shadowfury’s integral underslung semi-automatic 50mm grenade launcher reminded Adi that she walked a line between survival and transgression.

Since her time with the Colonial Marines, the rifle was a familiar friend, a physical expression of her will. This rifle, technically a heavy machine gun although she uses it as an assault rifle, is nearly identical to the one she carried in the Corps. The Shadowfury was her required payment for one of the earliest jobs she did for Rat. Adi locked her rifle in the custom rifle rack beside her right leg. While her neural net makes her ambidextrous, she still favors her right hand.

With her gear in place, Adi's form seemed to radiate an aura of preparedness. Her superbike hummed beside her, a mechanical beast that awaited her command. The city's rhythm remained unchanged, its nocturnal symphony constantly reminding everyone that danger and discovery were inexorably intertwined.

With her destination clear in her mind's eye, Adi swung herself back onto her Ozzy. She values the harmony and equilibrium with her Ozzy. The familiar hum of the dual turbine fusion-powered engine with its slight ozone smell resonated beneath her, fusing a perfect harmony of augmented woman and powerful machine.

At a leisurely 155 kph, she navigated the city's chaotic sprawl. Buildings blurred past, a kaleidoscope of colors against the hum of traffic and the distant wail of sirens. The windscreen hummed through the air, which was filled with dust and industrial, slightly acrid exhaust fumes. The air carried a slight smell of industrial waste, typical of this part of First City.

Adi navigated the winding streets with practiced ease, taking the first on-ramp to the elevated superhighway that rings the city but not the New Delhi arcology. The opulent sanctuary, blinding green-white against the rising of the first moon, stood in stark contrast to the unseen world beyond. 

The gentle hum of machinery was a stark contrast to the raucous clamor that exists elsewhere. The arcology's smooth, ceracrete walls suggested an untouchable, polished existence, far from the rough, worn hands of those deemed unworthy.

Her goal was a friend's house on the other side of the sprawling urban expanse, closer to the New Delhi arcology, which served as her sanctuary—a place of comfort and relief. The distance was considerable, even at her breakneck speed, and the journey would take nearly an hour and a half.

Guiding her Ozzy with the aid of her neural net, Adi readies it for a burst of speed. The motorcycle's frame and body extend until she becomes one with her superbike. She uses manual control until the transformation is complete. Adi, now lying flat beneath the elongated armored windscreen, her toes hooked over the rear brake light frame, used her neural net to drive with her HUD. Adi's MSI program blends all the inputs into a concise tactical picture with predictive modeling.

The world blurs, a kaleidoscope of flashing lights and elongated shadows. The wind's raw force slams against her back, a physical pressure. A deafening whoosh tears past as her bike surges forward, the speedometer on her HUD screaming 455 kph in flashing bold red letters.

Adi relishes the rare opportunity to ride her superbike at night, when the highways are less congested and she can fully unleash its power, a thrill she seldom experiences.

Fortunately, the traffic was relatively light at this time of night, a serendipitous circumstance that allowed Adi to weave through the circuitous highway with uncommon grace. Controlled by the city's AI traffic control, self-driving super lorries, public transportation super buses, and the rare personal vehicles that appeared, danced around her, their movements a choreography of technology.

Amidst the symphony of speed, a sudden warning pierced her consciousness—an alert from her Ozzy. Two superbikes were rapidly closing in from behind, hurtling toward her at a dizzying speed of 605 kph. She believes that the two pursuing bikers have illegally modified their bikes because of their speed. Adi's pulse quickened, her reflexes primed for action.

Adi's electronic fingers danced across her bike's controls. She released a swarm of tiny metallic drones. They burst from her superbike's countermeasure dispenser, a cloud of shimmering silver against the faintly illuminated highway. A faint, high-pitched whine filled the air. Metallic glints flashed as the drones swarmed, a low, mechanical hum vibrating the air. They danced like watchful spirits, their presence a palpable pressure, their purpose—to deter and confuse pursuers—unmistakable.

Adi's resolve was not to be underestimated. A surge of power countered the superbikes closing in behind her. Her Ozzy's speed surged, a visual blur against the stark sky, the wind a roaring symphony against her frame. Rising pressure pinned her as she eclipsed 625 kph.

Amogelang, the city's AI main traffic controller, attempted to assert its dominance, seeking to manipulate her bike's trajectory. However, illicit modifications had unlocked her machine's controls preventing AI takeover. Adi’s neural net pinged with an update that AI Amogelang was dispatching airborne Robo Blues and would have them in the air in mere minutes.

She knew better than to tangle with several Robbies. Like any other AI-controlled security robot, she could handle one or two Robbies. She bets that the fucking city AI is sending way more than a few after her. Getting off this fucking highway fast was what she needed.

Through her helmet, the wind shrieked past, a furnace-like blast still bearing the slowly fading heat of the day that roared in her ears. Her boots felt the city's pulse, a symphony of resolve and rhythm.

The pursuit continued in a ballet of speed and strategy that played out against the backdrop of the Dickensian-like urban sprawl beneath the elevated ten-lane superhighway. Adi's focus never faltered, and she knew the end goal as she fought to survive.

At these breakneck speeds, Adi knew that one wrong move could reduce her to a crimson smear on the highway’s unforgiving surface. Using her neural net and its quantum computer to command her motorcycle instead of her hands showed her prowess and adaptability.

As her pursuers' two superbikes came close, Adi's senses became sharper. The two riders approached, each gripping a shock prod. Blue electricity spat and crackled along the weapons' lengths, the sound a sharp, angry buzz.

As the wind whipped around Adi and adrenaline surged in her veins, Adi weighed her options. At 455 kph in this high-speed duel, the danger was palpable, and she knew she needed every advantage she could muster to escape. A quick check showed the Robbies were still coming, brought by a heavy air transport drone arriving in mere minutes.

Adi's survival was in question as her adversaries came closer. Her Threat Assessment Program updated the threat to deep yellow because it identified that the opposition was armed with riot-busting shock prods, a modern-day twist on knights preparing to joust.

Her opponents had the advantage in reach. Adi armed her Ozzy with a thermite-tipped lance, a powerful but limited weapon. She hesitated to use it because of its one-shot nature and the cost and difficulty of reloading.

With her hands free, Adi's fingers danced to her side, touching her Valkyrie pistol in its holster. Her TA program didn't identify any other weapons on her opponents. The pistol was a powerful, battle-changing weapon. At these speeds, the pistol's effectiveness against these opponents was in question, and her Shadowfury rifle was too unwieldy. Adi's mind raced for a plan to shift the odds in her favor.

In a burst of inspiration, Adi's neural net sparked with ingenuity. Adi sent the commands through her 'net to her bike. While her bike processed the order, ready for her initiation, she reached into a coverall pocket. Like magic, a blank magnetic memcube materialized in her hand. She planned to use it in a way that the manufacturer probably never intended.

She sent the command swiftly disconnected the front-wheel drive system of her bike. Adi executed an exceedingly risky, dangerous, and daring maneuver. By slamming on the front brakes, her bike and body briefly became vertical on the front tire. The omnidirectional tire screeched on the rough cerrocrete, a high-pitched whine quickly followed by the metallic flash of sparks against the dim light. The tires on her Ozzy rarely slide, but at this speed even the best tires will slide.

Her bold maneuver disoriented her chasers, a gamble that could be her salvation or doom, with the chase's tension mounting. While she was vertical, practically standing on her head, Adi seized the opportunity as the bike approaching from the right drew close in a blur. Her motorcycle's external loudspeakers roared to life, amplifying her voice, fierce and commanding. "Frag out!" she shouted, her words slicing through the noisy superhighway.

Adi hurled the magnetic memcube at the bike in one fluid motion. Guided by her neural net, her aim was true, striking the vehicle just behind the front forks and adhering to its exposed nuclear turbine cooling fins.

The scene unfolded faster than a heartbeat, a cacophony of excessive speed, danger, and desperation. Adi's calculated gamble had set the stage for a high-stakes confrontation, a moment of reckoning that could tip the balance in her favor. Adi's maneuver, executed with lightning speed, sent ripples of disruption through the confrontation in the split-second chaos that unfolded.

The opposing rider responded with enviable dancer's precision, grace, and speed, swiftly leaping with a fluid backflip from their bike. The rider landed hard on their back, the shock lance knocked from their hands, their body sliding across the unforgiving road surface. Adi mentally winced. Even with the best protective gear, at this speed, that landing had to have hurt the other rider.

The abandoned superbike collided with a slow-moving, self-driving super-lorry. This collision birthed a torrential explosion of flame and shrapnel, obliterating the vehicles and damaging several other nearby commercial vehicles in a fiery inferno. Adi fervently prayed that the wreckage hadn't injured any innocent bystanders.

As the opposing rider careened on their back toward the fiery collision, they rolled, attempting to avoid the fiery wreckage. Seeing an opportunity, Adi's Valkyrie pistol barked four times, delivering precise 15mm collapsed tantalum AP rounds that struck the hips and base of the spine of the rider.

The rider, another woman, was her foe, she grimly realized. Adi hoped the disabling shots would temporarily incapacitate her opponent, a calculated mercy amidst the chaos. Adi is thankful that the woman, now flopping as if boneless on the highway, by pure chance avoided the wreckage.

Seizing the opportunity presented by the tumult, Adi brought her bike back to the roadway and launched a small micro drone swarm tasked with tracking the opposition. Once the drones were clear, she slammed on the accelerator, pushing her bike to 300 kph in under five seconds. The battle events had momentarily tilted the scales in her favor, and she intended to capitalize on the confusion. Now slowed and bewildered, the opposing rider attempted to peer backward, seeking answers to their partner's fate.

Sensing the chaos on the highway, AI Amogelang diverted traffic around the wreckage and attempted to take control of Adi’s bike again. Thankfully, the highway is wide enough that there is plenty of room to weave around the wreckage. Adi, taking advantage of her Ozzy's omnidirectional tires and her sturdy body, performed a hard horizontal shift to the left. Adi is thankful for the LiDAR and pulse Doppler radar on her Ozzy as they let her plot a course around the flaming, smoking wreckage in milliseconds.

Adi's mind raced as she weighed her next move. She made a decision, and her resolve strengthened. With the safety systems of her bike locked on, Adi clamped herself firmly to the top of the bike. One of her zero-molecular-edged regimental kukris materialized in her left hand, an instrument of deadly precision illegally modified to silence the warning chime when activated.

Two of her four solid-fuel rocket boosters engaged, propelling her bike forward with an acceleration that defied reason. The G-forces surged, testing her enhanced strength and reflexes and the safety measures of her bike. Adi's surroundings blurred into streaks of light and color, her focus unyielding.

At a blistering 725 kph, Adi passed the remaining rider, her kukri slashing with a surgeon's precision. The 0ME blade cleaved through metal, fabric, bone, and flesh, severing the rider's right leg just below the knee. Blood spewed in a grotesque fountain, painting the air with a crimson macabre flourish. Adi's quick attack showed her powerful will to live.

Adi's attention shifted as the micro-drone swarm continued its surveillance of the injured riders, the thick smoke and confusion obscuring their fate. With the immediate threat neutralized, Adi maintained a steady 725 kph; her destination was a friend's house. Yet, her strategic instincts prevailed, cautioning her against leading the opposition to her haven. She chose a less direct route, deliberately shielding her friends from danger.