Vertical, horizontal, fucking diagonal . . . Xian didn’t care. Turf was turf. No one was going to muscle in on Yellow Cricket turf when Xian was on watch. He hefted the Mark IV railgun to his shoulder and slowly scanned the mile high face of Tower 6 through its scope, picking out specific balconies and windows in particular, looking for unsanctioned activity. His slow pan of the massive structure suddenly stopped.
“Motherfucker!” he whispered quietly, never taking his eye from the scope. Some indy was making a deal in a cube he was told to watch! Credits and goods where exchanging hands. This went against his delicate ten year old ethics and was violating Yellow Cricket creed. That wouldn’t do, not at all.
Xian tightened his grip on the railgun, zoomed the scope imaging on the indy’s head, took a deep breath, and . . .
Concept art of the day: Babiru 02 by Nivanh Chanthara.
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