Ypsilon always appreciated the brief moment of solitude before pulling a heist. The type of moment that let her get in her own head and assess just how badass she really was.
The bright orange and red hue of the sun had only been over the top of the blocky skyline of buildings for maybe an hour, and she let the warm air fill her lungs and tickle her nose.
As Ypsilon sat on the edge of the Hemmingdoll building and looked out over the bustling city below, she squinted her eyes, trying to see how far down she could make out. Eventually, the lights from the flying crafts and mist from the lowest visible levels mixed together, creating a colorful blur of neon and rust.
Several strands of her multi-colored dreadlocks danced in the air in front of her face, drawing her focus back to reality. Ypsilon glanced up at the colorful locks signifying her leadership and separating her from the rest of her gang of Grinders. Each color represented a different ability, a unique strength.
Spitting a large wad down the side of the building, Ypsilon wondered what did exist beyond the fog, but none of the Grinders would dare go that far.
Her Grinder gang, The Engineers, always said there wasn’t actually a bottom, but rather just stacks of buildings that went on forever. Ypsilon had always thought that theory was bullshit, but she wasn't about to test it.
The only Grinders that really knew the truth were the ones chosen by the fall. No one had ever survived falling that far, so no one really knew what was down there.
Snapping herself back to the job at hand, Ypsilon brought her gaze up toward the horizon. She glanced at a window across from her and glared at her reflection. The sun reflected off the window, highlighting the bright greens, blues and pinks of her hair. The colorful nature of her dreadlocks was a stark contrast to her milky white complexion. Her lips were the pale blue of a corpse, and her dark eyes were ringed in black, making them look sunken and mysterious.
The arm pilot she always wore glinted in the sun as a breeze brushed by her exposed midriff, ruffling her loosely-fitted, tan cargo pants. Ypsilon shivered as she bent down to tie her black lace-up boots. Her shit kickers were the pride of her outfit. She’d made them herself. With her boots, her kit, and the vest strapped across her chest, she had everything she needed to be the best Grinder. And she was the best.
Ypsilon brought her hand to her side and ran it over the heavy piece of steel attached to her hip. Her friend, Bangarang, never left her side. That trusty pistol had gotten her out of more jams than she could even fathom. The last thing she truly had to remember her father.
Yipsilon shook her head. She still had a job to concentrate on. Their target was due to arrive at 0800, sharp. The Engineers needed more capacitors for their boot mods. A tech truck was set to work on the holo-signs this morning, but the Engineers had caused it to “accidentally” malfunction the night before.
Soisha, Ypsilon’s Captain and best friend, had found out through the mainframe that the repairs were slated to begin at 0800. So, Ypsilon had arrived there an hour before and had set up post around the corner. She always arrived at a job early. At this point, Grinding was her profession, and she treated all her jobs as such.
A chirping sound came from the Pilot device on Yipsilon’s arm, and she checked the small screen on the heavy, metal bracer. The fun was set to start in thirty seconds.
Butterflies erupted in her stomach as she stood and took another deep breath. If she was being completely honest with herself, she lived for this shit.
Ypsilon pressed the confirmation prompt on the unit and looked to the right of the building across from her.
Her gaze dropped thirty levels down, just as a power unit mounted to the side of a metallic platform exploded. The vehicles parked on the steel surface shook as plumes of smoke erupted and sparks burst like fireworks.
From the depths of the smoke and mayhem, Rom and Rea appeared and leapt from the platform onto a passing tractor. The brothers clung to the top of the moving vehicle as Ypsilon grinned, shaking her head.
“Really, guys? Pramming?”
Grinders valued not needing help from machines to get around and considered it weak to ride on the top of a pram. This was especially funny coming from the twin muscle of The Engineers. Seeing them choose that as part of their maneuver was interesting to say the least.
On cue, sirens blared in the distance and the lights on the compliance officers’ vehicles lit up the air. Most Grinders called the compliance officers Stronzi and weren't fans of their mocked authority.
Within moments, the compliance officers approached the explosion and fell right into the trap. They sped past the burning platform toward the transportation the brothers had chosen.
Ypsilon watched as the officers neared her men, but as soon as they boxed in the pram, the brothers leapt from opposite sides of their ride, falling.
She didn't wait to see how things worked out for them. Rom and Rea knew what they were doing. With the officers out of the way, her fun could start.
Ypsilon cracked her neck and rolled her shoulders, allowing a giant grin to crease her pale face. “Time for Mama to do what she does best,” she said as she pulled up the large headphones drooping over her shoulders.
She swiped through the Pilot’s screen until she found the perfect theme song for the day. When Pure Gringing scrolled across her screen, Ypsilon slammed her finger down on the green button and let the loud music deafen her from the world.
Ypsilon stepped off the edge of the building without looking and began her fall. The colorful locks of her hair whipped through the air above her head as she rapidly descended. Several floors cleared in only a few seconds. Her stomach lurched into her throat, her heart pounding and the blood rushing through her veins like streams of liquid electricity. She experienced the same feeling every day, yet she never tired of the rush.
She threw her arm out, and the snap-extensions from her kit shot from her sleeve, helping her grasp the heavy gauge wire running the length of the building. She clenched down on the wire and pressed her feet into the side of the tall brick structure.
The hairs on her arms stood on end as her boots let out a compressed groan and thrusted Ypsilon forward into the air once again. She aligned her body just right and narrowly passed over a vehicle. The cold metal from the hood of the pram slid right over her shoulder, and she curled herself to continue the momentum.
In the vanishing instant she had to react, she flipped herself over and slammed those heavy boots into the front fender just as the bass from the song kicked up. She couldn’t help the ear to ear grin at the perfect timing. There was nothing like the feeling of Grinding. Nothing topped the rush of adrenaline.
The wind whipped past her as another compressed boom shot her forward again, closing the gap between herself and the opposite building.
Another turn of her body, and she brought her knees up, grabbing a pole and swinging herself upward and onto a window sill running the width of the building.
Not even waiting to assure her steady footing, she lunged forward and sprinted the urban catwalk as prams whizzed by, mere feet away—their horns muffled through the bass pumping into her ears.
“Calm down! I’m not a jacker!” Ypsilon shouted at one particularly hostel operator who was leaning out his window and screaming obscenities at her. She politely extended her middle finger and kept running, humming the next verse of the song as she went. She was on the clock. He could eat it.
Near the edge of the block, a civilian tram rounded the corner. As it slowly turned, it blocked her direct line to the building across from her. Thinking on her feet, she leapt up and slammed her heavy boots into the side of the tram, using her momentum to run its length and follow its natural curve as it rounded the corner.
When Ypsilon pushed her left foot into the building beside her, it launched her sideways into an aerial and once more into traffic. For a moment, the world bled together as the blur of headlights and holo-signs swirled in her vision. A world of light and distorted faces meshed in her vision, their frowns and scowls of terror temporarily looking like the strangest, deformed smiles.
The world came back to life as she landed on the hood of another pram, the bass thudding in her ears, and turned to see a frightened older woman sitting behind one of the most beaten down rides Ypsilon had ever seen.
“Sorry!” she shouted as she jumped from the hood and used another vehicle as a springboard to the next vehicle. Grinding is Grinding, and that was what Ypsilon did, but she wasn't a jerk. Feeling guilty for nearly giving an old lady a heart attack, Ypsilon continued.
Finishing up her chain of pram hopping, Ypsilon managed to reach the wall of her intended building. Landing on yet another ledge, she took the opportunity to catch her breath and wipe the sweat from her palms. Her kit had done its job with keeping her moving, but she still couldn't grip metal surfaces with wet hands.
Ypsilon appreciated how amazing Soisha was. Like a machine, she’d calculated the day’s movements to the minute. Soisha was the Engineers only computer monkey, and this was the reason why. Ypsilon didn’t trust anyone else with her life.
She looked down, and sure enough, the maintenance vehicle hovered at the base of the multi-story holo-sign just as it was supposed to be. Ypsilon couldn't see the techs piloting it but knew there would be two of them.
The massive frame of the holo-sign stretched nearly a dozen floors from where she was to where the maintenance vehicle hovered in the air. Heat from the plasma-based sign still radiated off it.
These things were dangerous when they were on, and though their glowing lights were pretty, it would fry any poor bastard that came too close or was stupid enough to touch the damn thing. If she was going to use it, she had to get down before these jokers turned the thing back on, or it would be good night and crispy journeys for Ypsilon.
Sliding her finger across the off button on her pilot, she hung the headphones around her neck. With one more breath, she grabbed the cold metal and wrapped her legs around the base of the projector. The utility van shifted in the air. The mechanics were inside the vehicle.
“Damn!” she mouthed as she brainstormed a way to get them out. Nothing came screaming to mind, so looked as if this one was going to get a little risky.
Releasing her grip slightly, Ypsilon slid down the death pole. She glanced at her hip to make sure Bangarang was still with her. She was probably going to need him. The van grew closer and closer until she could almost hear the men’s voices inside over the buzzing of the traffic.
Only a few feet above the vehicle, Ypsilon swung her legs out and lightly placed herself on the top of the maintenance van. It shuttered and shook from the movement inside, but otherwise, she was able to catch and keep her footing.
No time to wait. Ypsilon crouched down and knocked on the heavy, metal door as hard as she could. “Anybody home?” she whispered under her breath.
The movement inside the vehicle stilled for a moment and the voices fell silent. She clutched the edge of the doorframe and waited. After a moment, the latch snapped, and the doors flew open.
“Mama’s home!” she shouted as she swung down into the vehicle.
As her heavy boot collided with one of the technician’s chest and threw him backward into the van, Ypsilon caught the brief, surprised look on his face before he collided with the second technician.
In one seamless motion, Ypsilon pulled Bangarang out of its holster and pointed it at the two men as they struggled to help themselves up, hands high in the air.
“Morning fellas! Sorry to drop in like that. Just had to swing in for some supplies. Hope you don't mind.” Ypsilon’s couldn't help grinning. She truly loved her job.
The two technicians kneeled on the floor in front of her, shaking like it was the dead of winter.
“I need a few of your capacitors, please and thank you,” she added, dragging the sights of her pistol from one man to the next.
When neither answered, she reached up her thumb and drew back Bangarang’s hammer. Their rough, unshaved faces and dirty mechanic overalls gave them a salt-of-the-planet type appearance, and she knew these guys were pretty tough. Perhaps her message wasn't getting across to them.
“I’m sorry, kinda pressed for time. Really need those capacitors.” Ypsilon had learned early on that if she really scared people they acted in funny, unpredictable ways. Ever the professional, she tried to always be smarter than the mark.
Her threat seemed to work, and one of the men pointed to a large toolbox sitting on a shelf next to her. Ypsilon flipped the lid open to see a dozen azure-glowing tubes illuminating the dark van.
That’s the payload, all right.
She carefully placed each one in her pocket and closed the zipper, ensuring that they would make it back to headquarters. As she did so, the two men shuffled to their feet, and she snapped her attention back to them.
“Uh uh, boys. Not a smart move. I have what I want. So, I’ll just be leaving, and you’ll be fine. Just stealing from a corrupt, hypocritical shithead anyway. No need to risk your lives for someone like that.” With each word, Ypsilon backed her way to the door of the van, shooting glances over her shoulder to her exit strategy.
“Damn Grinders!” one of the technicians barked, his voice scratchy and gruff.
Ypsilon shot a look back at the bold man. “Nothin’ but punks and waste of space. Just look at yourself. You put that ridiculous color in your hair. Trying to be original? Why don't you do us a favor and jump? Save everyone the time.”
His words tore at Ypsilon. He had disrespected not only her, but all Grinders. That type of hate got her friends killed. It was why—when they caught them—the authorities were quick to beat a Grinder or simply take their kits and drop them, saying they’d jumped.
Ypsilon slowly brought her eyes back to the two men. Here face ran hot and her emotions cold. Sucking her teeth and letting a half grin escape, she lowered the hammer and slid Bangarang back into his holster.
“Now, why would you go and say something so stupid?”
One of the men rose and took a step towards her.
Ypsilon extend one finger, shaking it side to side. “Not so fast. If you’re coming for it, I suggest you bring help.” She motioned at the disheveled shelves stacked with tools to either side of the men. Ypsilon was nothing if not fair.
The man that had spoken grabbed a wrench off one of the shelves while the other man pushed himself up and grabbed a utility knife.
“There you go. Now, you were saying?” Ypsilon said as she squared off with the technicians. The one that clearly had a bone to pick with her lunged forward, swinging his wrench. Ypsilon caught the inside of his arm as she stepped in and slammed her knee up into his hip. The technician shouted in pain as she brought her forehead down onto the bridge of his nose. A dull squish was followed by a crimson spray.
He shouted and tilted his head backwards. Ypsilon pressed against the back of his elbow. After a brief moment, another dull snap came as she broke his arm, letting it hang backwards at an odd angle.
The technician let out a pained gasp, like he couldn’t believe what was happening. The screams that followed were so piercing that Ypsilon had to force herself not to let go so she could cover her ears. She grabbed his shoulder and forced his face to the metallic edge of the counter, knocking him out and relieving him of his pain. He fell limply to the floor.
As Ypsilon brought her eyes up from the unconscious technician, the other ran at her with a knife. He swung wide and fast, obviously unfamiliar with the right way to hold a weapon.
Ypsilon ducked and thrust her palm into the base of the man’s chin. As his head shot back, she grabbed his wrist with one hand and punched his kidney with the other. Another ear shattering scream of pain filled the small van as the technician tried to pull himself free.
“Shut. Up. Asshole.” Ypsilon grunted as she brought her boot down on the side of his right knee.
A pop followed a howl of pain. Ypsilon took the knife from his hand and threw it out the open doorway just before she thrust her knee into the man’s face. The sudden silence was deafening as he fell backwards, asleep.
“You see what being rude will get you?” Ypsilon panted as she knelt over the two men to make sure they were still breathing. “I didn’t want to have to do that. Why couldn’t you just let me screw over your almighty overlord and be done with it?” Confirming she hadn't killed them, she grinned at her own badassery and made her way to the open door once more. A faint groan came from behind her, but she couldn't be bothered with intolerant assholes.
Prams whizzed by as she surveyed her dismount options. After a quick scan, she saw her path. Jumping to a small landing to the left of the tech van, Ypsilon ran the length of the walkway as quickly as she could. The van rapidly disappeared behind her, and she felt her pocket for the capacitors. Another successful mission in the bag, and now she could work on the new order for boots.
Reaching the edge of the building, she grabbed a flagpole and used her momentum to swing herself into the air and into a flip.
With the air blowing around her, she twisted to see the slanted roof of a building three stories below. As she landed, her boots let out a puff of air that absorbed the shock. Keeping low, she slid down the metal slope toward a small platform. Her boots sparked as they ground on the metal surface.
Reaching the end of the grind, Ypsilon leapt into the air and collided with the hard surface of the platform. It looked to be the balcony of some yuppie cafe. Brushing the soot from her shoulder, Ypsilon sprinted toward the edge and prepared for another leap.
Just as she crouched to take the jump, a sharp pain erupted from her back and shoulders as something large and heavy sent her rolling forward.
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