Ralf slumped down in his captain’s chair and continued scrolling through the ads that continued to pop on his AR goggles like pesky firework displays.

            It had been a slow few days for him with no jobs or creds rolling in, and he was getting restless. It didn’t help that his cred shark Vinnie Kneecaps was equally as restless, and didn’t believe Ralf’s reassurances about his imminent repayment. Vinnie had closed their last conversation asserting that Ralf would attend their next meeting with either his payment or his broken knees – Vinnie didn’t care which one he got, but Ralf wouldn’t be walking away without giving him one of them. Ralf also knew that Vinnie earned his nickname for very good reasons, and reluctance to cause pain wasn’t one of them. He let out a groan as the latest Stuffer Shack ad for snack shorty sausages (“Now with AT LEAST 20% meat!”) danced across his view.

            Suddenly, the ads stopped and a bright-red display popped up across his vision:

ATTENTION – TIME SENSITIVE!

eXIT SOLUTIONS CONTRACTOR REQUEST

HIGH-RISK EXFILTRATION

CLIENT(S) IN ACTIVE COMBAT

DO YOU ACCEPT? YES OR NO

            Ralf took a deep breath, sighed, and reached out to tap YES, hoping that both his knees and his life would be secure once this job was done. He took off his AR goggles and secured them in their case under the instrument console. Ralf tapped the fuzzy dice hanging from the cockpit ceiling – three taps for smooth winds and lucky breaks – and grabbed the ‘jack plug from under his seat. It was time to make some creds!

**********************************************************************************************

            “Frack!” Jimbo shouted. “Can’t you lock that fracking thing down, already?” He gestured to the steel doors that stood as the sole barrier between them and a bunch of jacked-up-and-jacked-in corp security guards. The clanging and screeching coming from the other side indicated that the corpers wouldn’t be held back for long. Jimbo held his rifle at the ready as he kept watch on the doors and tried to think of another way to escape the building.

            “Ahem,” Sylvia huffed, tucking her shock of purple hair behind her pointed ears, “one doesn’t rush perfection. Now, don’t disturb me again, because I’ll need to concentrate in order to keep the doors shut and make sure I don’t get slagged by the nasty IC I’m sensing all around this place. Kindly remain quiet, and figure out how we can leave the building quickly.” With that, Sylvia sat down cross-legged on the floor, placed her fingers to her temples, and assumed a look of intense concentration as she closed her eyes.

            Suddenly, Sylvia’s eyes popped wide open in abject fear and her nose began bleeding profusely. “Th-Th-They g-g-got m-m-me!” she stammered as her body began to shake uncontrollably. “I can’t hold th-th-them b-b-back any m-m-more!” she exclaimed as she slumped to the ground.

            “Fracking hell!” Jimbo shouted as he bent down, threw Sylvia over his shoulder, and began to run down the narrow corridor. He didn’t have any AR maps of this floor of the building, but he could sense that they were getting closer to the windows outside. He heard a loud BOOM behind him, followed by the sounds of thumping boots. FRACK! Jimbo rounded a corner, put Sylvia down, and pulled a grenade out of his tacti-vest. The lettering across the grenade read “SmElLs LiKe ViCtORy!” Jimbo grinned and tossed the grenade down the hallway towards the corp security guards. The explosion sent a wave of fire down the hallway and left flaming NapeGel dripping from the walls and ceiling. Acrid smoke began choking the hallway, and Jimbo knew he’d bought them only a few more minutes of time. If the security guys or building systems didn’t put out the fire quickly, they’d choke to death in the smoky air. Jimbo threw Sylvia over his shoulder again and began heading in the direction that he thought would take him to the outside of the building. He heard secondary explosions behind him as the odor of burning paint and plasteel became stronger. He finally found himself in front of a door that said “Utility Stairway To Exterior – Authorized Personnel Only!” Jimbo kicked the door open and began climbing up the stairs as quickly as he could, cursing at every step. He came to a door that opened to an exterior section that featured giant exhaust fans spinning loudly in their housings. Jimbo set Sylvia’s limp form down, and then pulled on his AR comlink goggles.

            Several flashing icons popped up in front of him, and Jimbo tapped the icon for DocWagon. A green display popped up:

WELCOME TO DOCWAGON!

WE ARE SORRY TO NOTE YOUR SUBSCRIPTION HAS EXPIRED.

WOULD YOU LIKE TO RENEW? SELECT Y OR N

            “Fracking hell! Don’t give me this horse drek now!” Jimbo cursed. He tapped Y. The screen display read:

WE ARE SORRY TO NOTE YOU HAVE INSUFFICIENT NUYEN FOR RENEWAL.

PLEASE CONTACT US WHEN YOUR FUNDS ARE SUFFICIENT.

WE WISH YOU ALL THE BEST OF LUCK.

            “FRACKING HELL!” Jimbo roared. They were stuck on the roof with no escape, and Sylvia showed no signs of regaining consciousness. He knew the fires behind them would be contained quickly, and the security guards would soon be on them. Jimbo pounded on the ground in frustration. Just then, the following display popped up on his AR:

eXIT SOLUTIONS

NO QUESTIONS ASKED AND ALL REQUESTS ANSWERED

DO YOU NEED AN eXIT? Y OR N

            Jimbo sighed and tapped Y. The display blinked out, and was replaced with an image of a human woman dressed in a black flight suit. She had a patch on her chest that was the same logo featured on the display. Her dark hair was tied into a severe bun on the top of her head, and her chiseled cheekbones gave her an air of cool elegance. “Greetings,” she said in an unusually warm voice, “I’m Lyla and I’m a semi-autonomous reservation agent. Is your request of urgent, priority, or routine necessity?”

           “Fracking URGENT!” Jimbo growled.

            “Noted.” replied Lyla, unfazed by Jimbo’s profane reply. “How many in your party, and what metahuman types?”

            “Why the frack does THAT matter?” Jimbo snarled. Off in the distance, he could hear the unmistakable buzz of roto-drones flying towards their position.

            “We need to know for weight and balance purposes, and to ensure that we assign you a contractor with an appropriate vehicle.” Lyla replied coolly.

            “One fracking human and one fracking leaf-muncher.” Jimbo grumbled.

            “Noted – one human and one elf. Are you currently under fire?”

            “We WILL be in five minutes if you don’t get us out right fracking now!”

            “Noted – hostile contact imminent. Do you or your other party member require medical attention? Please note that we cannot guarantee the medical capabilities of any eXIT SOLUTIONS contractor who is urgently dispatched.”

            “Yeah, the elf’s brain is frizzled, or something. She got jacked up by some decker stuff. She passed out and her nose is bleeding all over the fracking place.”

            A look of concern crossed Lyla’s features. “Noted – unspecified cerebral injury; likely caused by negative biofeedback. Any other significant concerns?”

            “Just that we’re toast if you don’t get us outta here NOW!” Jimbo snarled.

            “Noted. May I have access to your commlink’s current position indicator?” Lyla asked.

            “What the frack do YOU think? Yeah!” Jimbo snapped.

            “Noted. Please wait – your eXIT SOLUTIONS pilot is being assigned to you. Once the assignment is complete, you will be automatically switched to your pilot’s terminal guidance net. Before I hand you off, is there anything else I should know about your situation?”

            “Only that you won’t make any cred from us if you don’t get someone here quickly.” Jimbo growled.

            “Noted.” Lyla closed her eyes for a second, giving the appearance of being deep in thought. She opened her eyes, and calmly stated, “Your pilot has been assigned. You will now be rolled to the terminal guidance net. Good luck.” Her image disappeared from Jimbo’s AR display.

“Hey pal, you Jimbo?” A gravelly voice popped into Jimbo’s ear through the AR goggles’ sound channel.

“Yeah, who’s this?”

“I’m Ralf – I’m your bugout pilot. You still at the 57th floor, north side, OkiiGomi Tower?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Good. Don’t get killed. I’ll be there in 5. Be ready to get your fracking behinds in my ride real quick, ‘cause time, tide, and Ralf wait for nobody – ya dig?”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice, chummer!”

“Good. Stay tuned to my terminal net. See ya soon.”

**********************************************************************************************

            Jimbo stayed crouched behind a large set of ventilation fans. He pulled off his AR goggles to wipe away the sweat that was pouring profusely on his brow. When he put his goggles back on, he noticed a large flashing green circle was superimposed on the roof about 20 feet away from him. Flashing green arrows bounced up and down over the circle, all pointing towards the ground. The letters “LZ” hovered over the bouncing arrows. Jimbo picked up Sylvia, threw her over his shoulder, and trotted over to the circle.

            As Jimbo arrived in the circle, his ears were assaulted by the blasting roar of engines. As he looked up, he saw the VTOL craft lowering itself down into the circle from the sky. As the VTOL lowered its rear ramp, Jimbo heard Ralf’s gravelly voice shouting, “Get on my bird and get yer little girlfriend strapped in, because we’re about to get real vertical, real soon!”

            “She’s not my girlfriend!” Jimbo shouted as he clambered into the rear of the VTOL and plunked Sylvia down in an open seat.

            “I don’t care what you two are bumping, but ya won’t be bumping them much longer if we don’t hayaku on out of here! Get yourself secured, now!” Jimbo grumbled under his breath but dragged the seat straps across Sylvia’s limp form and fastened them. Jimbo sat down in an adjacent seat and hurriedly fastened his straps. In his AR display, Lyla popped up in front of him. “Remember,” she said in a warm but concerned voice, “neither eXit Vector nor its wholly independent contractors are liable for injuries resulting from passengers who are improperly secured before flight commences. Please say ‘Yes’ to indicate acknowledgement.”

            “FRACK YES!” Jimbo bellowed. Lyla nodded and disappeared from his display.

            Within his VR perception sphere, Ralf saw a notification pop up from eXit Vector. A box of red text floated in front of him, and read:

CLIENT ACKNOWLEDGES TERMS AND CONDITIONS OF eXIT

[RALF] YOU ARE CLEARED FOR IMMEDIATE DEPARTURE FROM PRESENT POSITION

            “Hold onto your biscuits! We’re outta here!” Ralf passed through the AR channel back to his passengers. The VTOL closed its ramp and lifted off sharply into the air, causing Jimbo’s stomach to lurch. He hoped he’d be able to keep down the Monster Mash Soy Nugz that he’d gobbled down before the run.

            In his VR perception sphere, Ralf saw the egress route to the client’s destination emerge as a bright golden arrow streaking through the sky, tagged with alphanumerics representing the compass direction, optimal altitudes, and speed limits. The navicomp (“Navvy”) was also chittering away in bright green letters reminding him that he was in Class I corporate airspace and subject to legal enforcement of such. Ralf grumbled under his breath, and then barked “Navvy! VFR Direct! Hayaku!” The green letters disappeared, and the bright golden egress route re-oriented itself with the letters “THIS WAY” shining along its trail. Ralf opened the throttles and banked sharply to follow the bright arrow.

            Suddenly, another avatar popped up in Ralf’s VR display – an image of an old-time cowboy with a bright star pinned to his chest and two large revolvers hanging from a gun belt. The cowboy was leaning up against a fencepost, with his hat cocked off to the side and a long blade of straw hanging out of his mouth. Ralf could make out the words “AIR BOSS” emblazoned on the star. The cowboy avatar straightened up, tipped its hat to Ralf, and drawled “Hey there, partner! You’re zoomin’ around like an ol’ greased hog! You’re gonna get yerself all locked up in the hoosegow if you keep that up! You need to simmer down like a big ol’ pot of Cowboy Chili!” Garish letters popped up at the bottom of Ralf’s display:

Cowboy Chili! 10% Real Meat™, guaranteed!

*Real Meat is a proprietary blend sourced from actual biologic matter

            Ralf ignored the jaunty cowboy and continued on his course, zooming between buildings and barely noticing the blur of neon signs around him. The cowboy avatar took a few strides towards Ralf’s view, and growled, “Hey partner – that there wasn’t a suggestion. You best cool those jets or I’m turning my posse loose to string you up. I ain’t telling you again.” The cowboy glared at Ralf, and then disappeared from his display. “That’s right,” muttered Ralf, “you ain’t tellin’ me again because you ain’t SEEING me again! Navvy – get Skorch-n-Zorch warmed up!”

            Ralf’s view was immediately obscured by large red letters which ranged across the entire display:

YOU ARE IN VIOLATION OF CLASS I CORPORATE AIRSPACE

IMMEDIATELY LAND AND POWER DOWN YOUR VEHICLE

KINETIC ENFORCEMENT IS AUTHORIZED UNDER §2000

            Warning klaxons began to ring, announcing the convergence of three Mk1 Deputy Rotodrones onto Ralf’s position. One Rotodrone could be easily evaded, but three could present a problem – and they could have some beefier support following them in trail.