nearly had their first Slip in a decade just the other day, on only his eighteenth day on the job. The UnBee was twenty-three months old, just shy of the two years required to be considered a national security threat and labelled a Slip. A few days’ may not seem like a huge deal, but Dom knows it’s the difference between being a hero and a run-of-the-mill employee. Even still, he relished the opportunity to put holes in the parents’ and the UnBee’s heads.
Already his fellow Hunters are calling him the Destroyer, a play on his last name of Destovan.
“You know, Destroyer, after your first termination you get a full week off,” Hodge says, slapping him on the back. Having just surpassed five years of service as a Hunter, the barrel-chested man is considered a seasoned veteran.
They’re sitting across from each other in the rear of an auto carrier, or an aut-car. The vehicle makes a turn smoothly, relying on sensors and cameras to avoid colliding with a large supply truck that rumbles past.
“Pass,” Dom says. He doesn’t want to miss a second of this job.
“This guy’s craaaazy,” another guy says. He’s younger, with a mostly shaved head accentuated by a stripe of short hair down the middle. His goatee is connected to his sideburns by sharp thin lines. He sports the unfortunate name of Dana, which Dom will never think of as anything but a girl’s name. Why no one’s given him a permanent nickname is beyond him. Anyway, Dana is more into chasing half-cyborg chicks in 3D bars than being a Hunter.
Dom ignores him, which only seems to delight Hodge even more. “If Destroyer wasn’t such a wicked nickname, I’d call you Ice Man.”
Dom pretends to laugh, thanking his luck that Destroyer already seems to be sticking. He’d kill himself before letting anyone call him Ice Man.
“Or how about Frosty?” Dana says, chuckling.
For one delicious moment, Dom wishes Dana was a Slip. Less than a second and the retractable knife hidden inside his robot arm would be out; another half second and he’d slide it between the imbecile’s ribs.
“Not Frosty,” is all he says instead. Murdering another Hunter would be a mistake. Well, only with witnesses, that is.
Hodge lifts a hand to his ear to listen to a com, likely from headquarters.
Dom leans in, a zing of excitement shooting through him. Will this be his moment to shine? His palms are sweaty.
Hodge nods once, twice. “Understood,” he says. He looks right at Dom. “Shift’s not over yet, boys! We’ve got co-ords on an UnBee Shack west of the city.”
As Hodge speaks the new coordinates to the aut-car, Dom blows out a breath. It’s not the Slip he was hoping for, but at least it’s another chance to prove his worth.
Touching the barrel of his gun with his human hand, he smiles.
It’s still warm.
~~~
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Chapter Sixteen
H arrison Kelly finds school anything but boring. It’s always been his escape from the real world. When his father was barely ever around and his mother was slowly going crazy, there was some solace in knowing that from seven in the morning until five in the evening he was somewhere away from it all.
And as a teenager, school’s a great place to pretend he’s not lonely. Honestly, how could the captain of the state champion hoverball team, the STL Prep Flyers, ever be lonely?
This is something he reminds himself of as he walks—no, struts —down the hall, an entourage of his team members and hot cheerleaders surrounding him. On the faces of the science geeks he sees disgust, which he knows is really just an outward display of jealousy toward his life—the life they can never have. And on the faces of
Already his fellow Hunters are calling him the Destroyer, a play on his last name of Destovan.
“You know, Destroyer, after your first termination you get a full week off,” Hodge says, slapping him on the back. Having just surpassed five years of service as a Hunter, the barrel-chested man is considered a seasoned veteran.
They’re sitting across from each other in the rear of an auto carrier, or an aut-car. The vehicle makes a turn smoothly, relying on sensors and cameras to avoid colliding with a large supply truck that rumbles past.
“Pass,” Dom says. He doesn’t want to miss a second of this job.
“This guy’s craaaazy,” another guy says. He’s younger, with a mostly shaved head accentuated by a stripe of short hair down the middle. His goatee is connected to his sideburns by sharp thin lines. He sports the unfortunate name of Dana, which Dom will never think of as anything but a girl’s name. Why no one’s given him a permanent nickname is beyond him. Anyway, Dana is more into chasing half-cyborg chicks in 3D bars than being a Hunter.
Dom ignores him, which only seems to delight Hodge even more. “If Destroyer wasn’t such a wicked nickname, I’d call you Ice Man.”
Dom pretends to laugh, thanking his luck that Destroyer already seems to be sticking. He’d kill himself before letting anyone call him Ice Man.
“Or how about Frosty?” Dana says, chuckling.
For one delicious moment, Dom wishes Dana was a Slip. Less than a second and the retractable knife hidden inside his robot arm would be out; another half second and he’d slide it between the imbecile’s ribs.
“Not Frosty,” is all he says instead. Murdering another Hunter would be a mistake. Well, only with witnesses, that is.
Hodge lifts a hand to his ear to listen to a com, likely from headquarters.
Dom leans in, a zing of excitement shooting through him. Will this be his moment to shine? His palms are sweaty.
Hodge nods once, twice. “Understood,” he says. He looks right at Dom. “Shift’s not over yet, boys! We’ve got co-ords on an UnBee Shack west of the city.”
As Hodge speaks the new coordinates to the aut-car, Dom blows out a breath. It’s not the Slip he was hoping for, but at least it’s another chance to prove his worth.
Touching the barrel of his gun with his human hand, he smiles.
It’s still warm.
~~~
Worried about security?
Get the new and improved LifeCard TM , available only from U-Bank.
With new security measures like Instant Recovery and Hacker Protection,
your new LifeCard TM will protect you and your family…
For. Life.
This advertisement paid for by U-Bank, where it’s YOU that matters.
Chapter Sixteen
H arrison Kelly finds school anything but boring. It’s always been his escape from the real world. When his father was barely ever around and his mother was slowly going crazy, there was some solace in knowing that from seven in the morning until five in the evening he was somewhere away from it all.
And as a teenager, school’s a great place to pretend he’s not lonely. Honestly, how could the captain of the state champion hoverball team, the STL Prep Flyers, ever be lonely?
This is something he reminds himself of as he walks—no, struts —down the hall, an entourage of his team members and hot cheerleaders surrounding him. On the faces of the science geeks he sees disgust, which he knows is really just an outward display of jealousy toward his life—the life they can never have. And on the faces of