The God Of The Rust District

The Runaway And The Ghost

My lungs burned like I had swallowed hot coals.

I did not stop running. If I stopped, the syndicate hunters behind me would put a hole in my chest before I could take another breath.

Neon signs flashed red and green above the narrow alley, casting harsh light over the greasy puddles at my feet. Sector 4 was a dump. Everyone knew that. The rich people lived miles above us in clean glass towers where the air smelled like real pine trees, while the rest of us lived down here in the dirt, breathing sulfur and listening to the giant holographic eyes blink down at us from the sky.

I cut hard to the left, jumping over a rusted pipe that blocked the path. My boots hit the wet metal with a loud smack.

"There he is! Grab him!"

The voice echoed off the concrete walls behind me. Footsteps pounded hard against the ground. Three men. Big guys in heavy black armor with company logos stamped on their chests. They had been chasing me for three blocks, and they were not going to quit until my heart stopped beating.

I turned another corner, my heart hammering hard against my ribs. I was only nineteen, but I felt like I had lived a hundred years of pure terror. My name is Kofi Vance, and for as long as I could remember, I was just a street runner trying to stay alive in the worst part of the city. I delivered packages I wasn't supposed to look at, stole food when my stomach hurt too much to sleep, and hid from the big corporate syndicates that ran our lives.

Except I had a secret. A bad secret.

I pulled my right hand out of my jacket pocket and looked at it while I ran. Beneath the skin of my palm, deep amber lines were glowing. They pulsed with a strange, hot light, like liquid fire trapped in my veins. Every time I got scared or angry, the light showed up.

I did not know what it meant. I only knew that the syndicates wanted my hands cut off, and my own body felt like it was breaking apart from the inside.

Clang!

A heavy metal crate flew past my head and smashed into the wall, missing me by inches.

I ducked into a dead-end alley, gasping for air. The brick walls rose twenty feet high on three sides. No ladders. No fire escapes. Just solid, cold stone.

"Got you now, rat," a deep voice growled from the entrance of the alley.

I spun around. Chibuzo stepped out of the shadows. He was a giant of a man, easily seven feet tall, with heavy metal plating bolted onto his shoulders and chrome knuckles that clicked every time he flexed his fingers. He was the most brutal enforcer the syndicate had, and he looked at me like I was a bug he wanted to squash under his boot.

"Kofi," Chibuzo said, stepping closer. "End of the line. Hand over your hands and make this easy on yourself."

My back hit the cold brick wall. There was nowhere else to go. The two other guards ran into the alley behind Chibuzo, blocking the only exit. They pulled out heavy stun-rifles, aiming them right at my chest.

I was going to die right here in the dirt.

Panic surged through my chest, hot and sharp. The amber lines on my right hand flared up, burning so bright it hurt my eyes. The air around my hand began to snap and crackle with raw energy.

"I didn't steal your stupid package," I said, my voice shaking as I raised my glowing hand. "Just let me go!"

"We don't want the package anymore, kid," Chibuzo said, raising a chrome fist. "We want the weapon inside you."

He lunged forward with blinding speed.

I didn't think. I thrust my hand straight out and yelled, pushing all the terror and anger right into my palm.

A massive wave of amber electricity exploded from my hand. The light was so bright it turned the dark alley into daylight. The shockwave hit Chibuzo squarely in the chest. The giant enforcer let out a loud grunt as the blast picked him up off his feet and slammed him hard against the back brick wall. Sparks flew from his metal plating, and he slid down to the ground, completely unconscious.

The two guards behind him dropped their weapons and covered their eyes, stumbling backward in terror.

I stood there, breathing heavily, staring at my smoking hand. The amber light slowly faded back beneath my skin. My arms felt weak, and my knees shook. I had just beaten the most dangerous man in Sector 4 with a single flash of light.

What am I? I thought, my hands trembling. What is wrong with me?

"You're a lot louder than you used to be, little brother."

The cold voice came from right behind my ear.

I froze. The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up. I knew that voice. I had heard it in my dreams every single night for three years. But it was impossible.

A cold ring of steel pressed firmly against the back of my skull.

I slowly turned my head, my eyes wide with disbelief. Standing right beside me in the shadows of the dead-end alley was a young woman in a black tactical jacket. Her dark hair was tied back, and her eyes were as cold as ice. She held a heavy black pistol with steady hands, pressing the barrel hard against my head.

"Aminata?" I whispered, my voice breaking. "No. That's impossible. You're dead."

"People only die when the system lets them," Aminata said, her face completely empty of emotion. She looked at me like a stranger. "And you, Kofi, were never supposed to wake up."