With a burst of sudden speed, Adi whipped around a slow-moving, AI driven lumbering bulk gas tanker. As she shot past the behemoth truck and read the warning symbols on its side, a chill snaked down her spine. She was thankful the city AI hadn't somehow involved the massive vehicle in its trap.

Adi shuddered again, imagining the explosion 135,000 liters of compressed methane gas would unleash. The blast would be one that would shatter a large section of the elevated highway. There were limits to what even graphene composite nano ferro-crete could withstand.

As if the city AI wouldn't allow itself to be thwarted again, Adi heard a growing chorus of distant sirens behind her. The piercing shriek of the highway motor robo-blues cut through the inky black night. With her Ozzy's sensors and her neural net, Adi quickly discerned at least 20 individual signatures, a digital pack closing in.

While her Ozzy is significantly faster than the pursuing Robbies, they weren't trying to catch her directly; they were herding her, driving her relentlessly into yet another of the AI's traps. A cold void twisted within Adi's gut, making her feel as if she had fallen into an empty, dark pit. The sudden emptiness was a grim visual shift after the city AI cleared the traffic lanes behind her.

The stark gray ferro-crete stretched, a harsh, cold plane reflecting the unwavering glare of the LED lights against a dark cloudless sky. The nighttime air, hot and motionless, pressed close, lacking any fragrance but tasting of ozone and anticipation. A heavy, unseen weight settled, a suffocating presence. 

Her eyes darted to the gleaming metal, reflecting the dim light, the polished surfaces hinting at the coldness beneath. She pictured the sickening crunch, the sudden stop, the feeling of utter helplessness should they catch her. Moto Robbies are not gentle when they apprehend someone, especially when a pissed off city AI drives them. Up ahead, the same intelligence was deliberately filling every highway lane with a slowly creeping tide of large semi-autonomous lorries, their metallic bodies reflecting the LED highway lights.

"Well, fuck me," Adi said out loud, the words a bitter taste on her tongue, mingling with the stale, recycled air that swirled within her helmet.

Adi was thankful she'd chosen a fresh bio-culture geomembrane bodysuit that morning. The membrane, sleek against her skin, was efficient, whisking away or absorbing the sweat that poured from her. It kept her clean, even consumed some of her body's waste, a small marvel of personal hygiene in a gritty world.

Still, the bodysuit had the unfortunate side effect of removing all her body hair, leaving her, in her own estimation, looking more like a mesomorphic, flat-chested oversized juvenile than a woman. But at least, Adi mused, she didn't have to shave nearly half her body like the Revered Ancient women once did.

Still driving with her neural net, Adi cranked the throttle, feeling the nuclear turbine between her legs shudder and whine. She narrowly avoided being crushed between two 60-meter lumbering lorries, the monstrous vehicles a hair's breadth from closing in on her. Her stomach rumbles; she's always hungry.

"Adi, you've got the metabolism of a maniac squirrel on meth," a friend of her mother's once commented during tea after she had left the Corps.

Adi frowned, sharing a confused glance with her mother, draped in one of her beautiful saris. Her mother's flat midriff was bare, revealing the large emerald-cut moissanite in her navel. Despite frequently searching ancient references, neither of them had any idea what a squirrel was. Cielo, her mother's friend, a data-broker and hoarder of obscure historical trivia, chuckled.

"It's a dangerous, nearly extinct, small, frenetic rodent. For some inexplicable reason, they are famous for tearing up houses of worship and terrifying temple singers." 

More screeching tires and the sudden, violent necessity of weaving through traffic ripped Adi's mind back to the present, ending her distracted reminiscing. At a blistering 755 kph, only her enhanced reflexes, guided by her neural net and the multi-phased quantum computer nestled around her brain, prevented immediate disaster. A non-augmented person, she knew, would have been nothing but a street pizza smear by now.

Adi's grim realization hit hard: her situation had gone from bad to worse, spiraling into a death trap. The next exit, now her only hope for escape, was tantalizingly out of reach. She knew it was futile; even if she pushed her highly and somewhat illegally modified Ozymandias 6000 to its secret, non-boosted, non-factory maximum speed—a blistering 900 kph—the distance was simply too great to cover in time.

The only time she pushed her bike harder using her rockets and going supersonic, the air crackled with so much energy, that once was enough for her. At 1,290 kph, she found her reflexes challenged.

She was at the narrow end of the highway, a gray ribbon stretching out before her.The city's AIs would undoubtedly track her every move, blocking any exit before she could reach it, effectively trapping her on the highway. Regardless of her speed, the robo-blues' apprehension would be a simple matter, she realized, an icy shiver running down her spine.

Adi clenched her jaw in frustration, her mind a desperate scramble for a solution. Using her bike's maximum speed, a secret she reserved for moments of utter desperation, she might have had a fighting chance. But the city's AI was clearly determined to drag her down, and the odds were stacked against her.

With inbound airborne supersonic drones carrying more robo-blue interceptors screaming closer and the city's AI tightening its digital noose, Adi braced herself for the inevitable confrontation, her mind a blur of desperate calculations for her next move.

Amidst the chaos and the city's relentless trap, her neural interface flared, signaling an incoming call. But it wasn't her phone buzzing; instead, a whisper-thin whisker beam comm laser was hitting her helmet, carrying super-secret squirrel-level crypto. What the fuck?

To her surprise, Adi's neural net held the necessary cryptoware, quickly decrypting the incoming call and flashing Markus Kane's contact name on her HUD. An old acquaintance, a former Defense Securities Initiative agent known for his less-than-savory reputation, and a source for some of her past jobs—often relayed through Rat or, occasionally, directly from him.

Adi hesitated. She rarely spoke with Kane; their interactions were always shrouded in ambiguity. His questionable conduct had led to his dismissal with prejudice from the DSI. Adi couldn't help but wonder why he was contacting her now, amid her dire circumstances, like a ghost from a past she’d rather forget. She knew that his "help" always had hidden strings and brought complications along with it.

She briefly considered letting the call burn out, but stubborn curiosity and the nagging thought of what Kane could want at this critical juncture got the better of her. She accepted the connection, her voice a low blend of irritation and a dangerous curiosity. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Adi, it's been a while, hasn't it?" Kane's face pixilated through the comms, voice tinny, carried a familiar, unwelcome lilt.

"Not fucking long enough."

The disgraced former agent's voice crackled over the line, a strained blend of tension and manufactured urgency. "Adi, what, no witty repartee?"

“I’ll show you witty repartee when I shove my fucking boot up your ass.” Adi's voice was a low growl, laced with venom. “I repeat, and I fucking hate repeating myself, what do you want?”

“I've got some information that might get you out of the tight spot you're in right now."

“Asshole. You waited until now to tell me.”

"This comm laser is coming from a stealth micro-drone I’ve had on you since leaving Nile’s bar. It was unfortunate Rat got killed."

"It was obvious, Kane, even before Rat was killed, that your fingerprints were all over this fucking job."

"I nearly died of laughter when you flashed your Myrmidon regimental kukri at those stupid street gangers. They nearly shit themselves when they saw your kukri. I'm glad that you didn't kill them."

"Get to the fucking point."

In Kane’s background, the distant crackle of sonic booms announced more inbound Robbies. Kane looked up, his pixelated face grim. "You know what that means. According to the traffic net, four supersonic troop-carrying drones stuffed with motor Robbies are on the way to apprehend you. They'll be on you in less than three minutes."

"There are several motor Robbies behind me already."

"If the Robbies catch you, Adi, you will be in some serious deep shit."

"Your ability to state the fucking obvious astounds me."

"You left a trail of carnage behind you. One of the brand-new Havoc Raptor superbikes, worth several million credits, was destroyed, and you badly damaged the other one."

"I fucking didn't destroy the bikes on purpose." Adi's voice was a low growl, a counterpoint to the distant wail of sirens.

"They're still blaming you." Kane's hologram smirked, a flicker of digital amusement. "What the fuck did you expect?"

"Fuck," Adi muttered. She recognized the Havoc Raptor bikes, which, like her beloved Ozzy, were from Mars but a product of a rival company.

"You got some serious heavy out on you. From her hospital bed Irina's pissed at you. You not only destroyed her brand new bike but shot her repeatedly in that fine ass of hers. She's also pissed at you for trashing Dima's new bike and chopping a good chunk of his right leg off. What you do that for, you mean girl?"

"That cunt's pissed at me? That's rich."

Adi was more than somewhat familiar with the fraternal twins, Irina Smirnova and Dima Smirnov. Wealthy members of a Vor crime family, they operated as freelance mercs, loosely tied to several Russian syndicates. They charged an extortionate amount, far more than Adi ever pulled for a job. The twins were infamous for their utter lack of scruples, viewing collateral damage as simply the price of doing business. Whoever had paid the Smirnovs to capture or stop Adi clearly had pockets as deep as the city's underbelly.

"I was trying not to kill them. I also didn't recognize them, but it wouldn't have mattered if I did. I've never met them, but I know of the twins. Did the twins recognize me?" Adi's voice was flat, a professional assessment of collateral damage.

"Absolutely. Because of this undertaking's nature, they are not broadcasting your name—yet." Kane's hologram grimaced.

"Knowing what I know of them and their family, they will be out for revenge when they get out of hospital," Adi said. The words hung in the comms, a chilling promise.

"Well, they're both going to be in hospital for several weeks while they regrow Irina's hips and lower spine and Dima's leg. They had to use a lot of Quick Heal on both of them. Before the Robbie got to him Dima nearly bled to death. One of the brighter points in this fiasco is that the Robbies picked up the twins, stabilized them, and airlifted them to Constantina Yaretzi Hospital. So you won't have their death on your conscious."

"Fuck. CYH has one of the best trauma wards in the upper city outside of the New Delhi arcology. They can afford it, though." Adi heard more supersonic booms rip through the air, closer now. Kane's pixelated grin widened in her HUD, a silent, knowing acknowledgment of the approaching storm.

"Adi, I believe the city's AIs are really pissed at you because they've emptied every highway Robbie locker within 55 kilometers." Kane's voice was grim, a digital casualty report. "They've got most of the motorized highway patrol Robbies all running up behind you."

"I saw a few of them already."

"There are also four..." A beep causes him to look to the side. "... nope, now six supersonic airborne drones carrying fully loaded shock and anti-riot pacification Robbies."

"Fuck." Adi's response was sharp, concise, and utterly devoid of surprise.

"Yep. Anyway, I’ve uploaded the plans for getting you off the highway to your neural net, which sent them straight to your bike." Kane's tone shifted, a hint of his usual, dark humor creeping in. "The computer models verify it can be done, but it’s going to be one serious fucking butt-puckering ride."

Adi's eyes narrowed as she half-listened to Kane prattle on, suspicion and wariness warring with the faint glimmer of hope that this unexpected contact might provide a lifeline out of her current predicament.

Adi's heart raced as Kane mentioned the Faraday cage hidden in her bike. It was a long-forgotten piece of equipment, primarily used in the past for stashing unregistered and somewhat illegal comms gear. Her Ozzy's secret compartments held more than she remembered. The Faraday cage was one of them a forgotten ghost in her machine, suddenly vital.

With growing urgency, Kane instructed Adi to place the 1,000-credit chip—now confirmed to be tagged with an exceptionally well-hidden tracker—inside her superbike’s Faraday cage. The tracker was a beacon that had likely led her enemies right to her, and removing it was paramount.

As she carried out the first instructions, Adi's mind raced. She had to act quickly. The supersonic flying interceptors were closing in, their engines a growing howl, and her window of opportunity was shrinking by the second.

Adi quickly glanced over the plans Kane sent. "Oh, fuck me running."

With the credit chip safely stashed away in her bike's isolated Faraday cage, Kane's voice, a grim whisper in her comms, outlined a daring and, frankly, insane plan to get her off the perilous highway. It involved using her micro-drone swarm to project highly realistic holograms, a maneuver that would nearly deplete her cache of these invaluable assets.

Adi winced at the thought of losing most of her micro-drones. They were valuable tools she couldn't easily replace in this dead-end sector of the galaxy. But desperate times called for desperate measures. She knew she had no choice if she wanted to escape the relentless pursuit of the city's AI, the supersonic interceptors likely carrying riot or other armed robo-blues, and the shadowy opposition forces closing in behind her. Adi braced herself for the audacious leap, the high-stakes gamble against the neon-lit chaos, as she set the plan in motion.

As Kane's hologram continued explaining the audacious plan, Adi's incredulity grew. It was a strategy born of desperation and madness, involving a hacked flatbed cargo hauler turned into a makeshift ramp. Kane's pixilated shit-eating grin in her helmet's HUD seemed almost mocking, as if he reveled in the situation's grim absurdity.

Adi listened intently as Kane outlined the details. Under his remote control, the self-driving, empty, colossal flatbed cargo hauler would pivot, its 35-meter-long bed dropping with a hydraulic groan to form an enormous, improbable ramp. She'd need to hit that improvised launchpad at a breathtaking speed of at least 775 kph. It wasn't a plan; it was a prayer whispered into a hurricane.

Her Ozzy's last two solid-fuel rockets would provide the desperate burst of thrust to clear the gap. Adi cringed at the thought of replacing all four spent rockets, a hefty cost tied to the less-than-legal custom modifications on her bike.

With Rat dead, she'd have to put it on Kane to resupply the rockets and micro-drones assuming, of course, she survived this jump. Adi wondered what fresh hell Kane would put her through in demand to cover the expenses of today's chaos.

To prepare for an insane jump, her Ozzy transformed once again. The superbike enveloped her in a protective shell, the transparent synth-alloy panels expanding and arching around her as she reclined fully, bracing for impact. It was a surreal, improbable transformation, a machine turning into a shield.

With a low mechanical groan, the four canard wings, typically set for traction, altered their angles to prepare for flight, a desperate attempt to conquer gravity. She listened to the highway echoing with the whine of traffic. 

The target loomed: a 50-floor, flat-top parking garage, its ferro-crete skin stained gray, reflecting the dull reddish moonlight. The upper deck, a gaping maw, hung five meters below the elevated highway, the air thick with the ozone exhaust of vehicles. By chance, her trajectory placed her in the braking lane that stretched across the parking level.

Running several grim scenarios through her neural net, Adi verified the suicidal course and speed she needed to clear the distance—a midnight-dark, vast gaping chasm that, if she missed, promised a plummet of over 240 meters to the unforgiving ferro-crete below.

Her primary concern wasn't the jump; it was the landing. Halting her Ozzy in that brutally short distance would be a formidable challenge. The top floor's vast expanse was a flat-topped hollow, a concrete tomb. The emptiness was a reprieve, yet the thought of a car, a civilian's unsuspecting vehicle, entering her domain sent a shiver, an icy dread, crawling up her spine.

"Kane, is there any fucking way that you can ensure that no one enters the parking garage?" Adi's voice was tight, a thin wire stretched to breaking.

"I am trying, Adi," Kane's holographic form flickered with digital frustration. "But hacking into the parking garage’s AI is difficult. Surprised that the company owning the garage spent this many credits on such a good computer firewall."

"So, Kane, what you are fucking telling me is that you have no way of preventing some fucking lolo from pulling into the parking garage just as I am falling out of the sky like a fucking dumb big ass rock." Her voice was a low snarl, the raw edge of fear barely contained.

"Adi, I'm renting all the empty spots on the top floor. That should keep most of the top floor clear, but some spots are occupied or rented, but empty. I’ve sent the occupied parking spots to your neural net and battle computer for planning details." Kane's voice was a low hum, a strategic whisper in her ear. "Right before you land, I can lock down the elevators for a few minutes. The AI controlling that garage has excellent defenses and will quickly wrench control back."

Adi marked the targeted parking garage in her HUD and relinquished coordination to the machines, allowing them to plot the daring leap that spelled her salvation or doom. The city computers and their AI controllers, despite their pervasive reach, could not take control of her bike because she had illegally removed all override circuits. Still, her Ozzy drank in updates from the urban network, charting traffic flows and refining her route, a necessary evil even with her independence.

"Cheer up, Adi," Kane's voice crackled, a synthetic attempt at levity. "If you cared about such things, you might be interested to know that this jump you are about to do is somewhat longer than some ancient stuntman named Knievel attempted several times."

"But I bet that ancient wasn't jumping at night, with an improvised ramp from an elevated highway and a fucking iffy chance of sticking the landing." Adi's voice was a low snarl, the grim reality of her situation cutting through the historical trivia.

"No, you are correct. However, the ancients didn't have your advantages. Your Ozzy is magnitudes more powerful than anything they had back then. Just imagine what that ancient Knievel could have done with a bike like yours. I know you, Marine Myrmidons, are ungodly tough, but I am not certain even you could survive this crash."

"Kane, if I don’t make it, please ensure that Nyomi is cared for. I’ve been unable to get through to her, but I've left several voice messages. I’m getting worried; it's not like her not to call me back." Adi's voice, usually laced with sarcasm, held a rare tremor of genuine concern.

"I will do my best, Adi." Kane’s voice was grim, devoid of his usual digital swagger.

"Thanks. Now shut the fuck up. I'm about to be a godsdamned lunatic and jump off this fucking highway."

As Adi's Ozzy hurtled toward the makeshift ramp at breakneck speed, her micro-drone swarm sprang into action, orchestrating a clever diversion. The swarm divided itself into seven groups, each with a specific, vital role in this high-stakes gamble.

Six micro-drone swarms flickered to life, each one generating a perfect, shimmering hologram of Adi's Ozzy as it screamed down the highway. The tracking signal from the marked credit chip, a digital breadcrumb, now emanated from these decoys, creating a convincing array of false leads for anyone monitoring her movements. It was a risky gambit, a desperate throw of the dice, but Adi had few options left.

The seventh micro-drone swarm, a buzzing cloud of metallic insects, enveloped her actual bike. It spun a shroud of visual interference, a shimmering distortion that might, just might, shield her during the crucial leap. The holograms wouldn't fool a determined searcher for long, but Adi hoped they'd buy her the precious moments she needed to slip away into the city's underbelly.

Adi manually flipped the safeties off, the cold click of the toggles a final, grim decision. With her last two solid-fuel rocket motors armed, she held a lethal promise. She verified her destination in a flash, then let the combat computer in her head and her neural net take control of the driving. When her bike turned slightly towards the makeshift ramp, Adi clenched her teeth, bracing for the ride of her life.

As her rear tire hit the ramp, the rockets fired with a guttural roar, slamming her back with nearly 11G as she roared up the truck bed. The surge lasted only a few brutal seconds, and despite her mods, the raw acceleration tore at her. Adi screamed, a primal sound lost to the wind, as her Ozymandias 6000 Superbike soared into the warm, grimy night air, a heart-pounding leap into the unknown.