The glass shatters heavily as I pass through the large windows that compose the exterior walls of one of the city's biggest skyscraper. I feel it intensively ripping parts of my suit and cutting my skin and flesh where they aren't protected, a pain I am forced to ignore.
For a few seconds, I stay in mid-air, bending my legs and protecting my head. The debris of these transparent blades now splattering and flying away from me, I feel the scorching cold wind on my cheeks and mouth, flowing with my black coat. I open my eyes and find the sun at the edge of disappearing, inflaming the sky with projection of its fire and light. In a moment, it will have disappeared, and my city with its prisoners will plunge into the chaos of night. It is almost time for me, my other me, to make its entrance. I guess I'm a little early tonight, but I have my reasons.
The shock of adrenaline now delivered, I prepare for the second impact. My body hits the glass wall like a truck gone wild, and I continue my descent sliding down, only its inclination makes it hard to differentiate free fall from sliding: the building's not called the Shard for nothing: a giant and steep pyramidal form piercing from the flesh of the wounded city.
In an alarming amount of time my computer tells me I've already dropped about twenty meters. I turn around, looking up and fetching my pick from my utility belt. I raise my hand, another ten meters drop, preparing to stick the pick in the glass wall and hoping for it to stop my dramatic descent.
But I interrupt immediately my movement. Behind me, using the exit I just made, a green and rapid silhouette jumps in the air with rare expertise and confidence, something I do not show right now. He holds in his strong arm a state-of-the-art bow, and ready to be shot, a deadly shiny arrow. In an instant, with just a lightning little relaxation of his finger's tendon, the arrow is set loose, destined to pierce my body and my life simultaneously.