"I hate this goddamn city." Asa thought as he walked down one of the city's many streets. He hated the color of the city, white. Everything was white, from the tallest skyscraper to the smallest store. Even the grass and the trees that lined the street were white. Ocasionally there was some orange thrown in, mostly at the top of buildings, and on billboards. He hated the people, blissfully ignorant of the choking control they where all under. But most of all, he hated what the city stood for. It was the shining jewel of the country. Low crime, clear streets, near total employment, and a surveillance camera on every corner. The city was under the control of the totalitarian government. The only way to communicate without anyone knowing was to hire a Runner, like Asa. A Runner would deliver messages, information and packages back and forth between customers via rooftops and skyways. It was a tough life, with death always looming around the next corner. But what other choice did he have? His parents where killed when he was seven while they were protesting, peacefully, against the government. He lived on the street for close to eight years, eventually becoming a runner.
He had stared death in the face more than once, almost falling 50 stories more than once. He was also the youngest runner he knew, which made it hard to get high paying jobs. Mostly the clients he got were small time money launderers, drug dealers, and black market dealers. He sighed, and swiped his ID card through the lock on his apartment. It was a small, two roomed place, just a kitchen and bedroom. But it was all he needed, as he barely spent any time there anyway. He laid down on his and was about to fall asleep when his cell phone rang. Normally he avoided using the thing as much as possible, for fear that the police would discover him. He picked it up, and read the text message. It was a message from Faith, another runner. The message contained seemingly random computer characters. It was the Runner's code, a top secret language that they could communicate with. They almost never used it though, so the police couldn't crack it. The message read" Ææ529ÌŒLŽd", which basically meant, "Meet at location, urgent." The "location" .the message referred to was an abandoned warehouse on the edge of the city, beyond the interest of the authorities. He stiffened when he read it, because the only other time he had been then was when one of the head runners was killed by the police. He rushed to put on his running shoes. They had a split toe, which allowed for greater maneuverability. And at 35 stories up, Asa took every advantage he could get.
He ran out of his room toward the elevator, not even bothering to lock the door. He frantically started pushing the call button, while muttering "Come on, come on, come on," under his breath. He hated elevators. They were too small, too slow, and almost always had someone else in them. Normally, he would have taken the stairs, but he needed to conserve his energy. The warehouse was far, almost seven miles from his apartment building. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, the elevator doors slowly parted, revealing a mercifully empty elevator. Asa punched the highest level, 30, and the elevator began its slow ascent. Asa did what stretches he could in the tight space, and readied himself for the challenge that was facing him. When the car finally slid to a stop, Asa sprinted up two flights of service stairs that lead to the roof. When he emerged on the roof, he saw that the sun was already beginning its slow descent. He needed to hurry, as it was almost impossible to run in the dark. He walked over the east side of the building, and surveyed the first jump. Fifteen feet, not a problem. He jogged a few feet back, then turned and ran headlong toward the edge. When he reached it, he pushed off hard, propelling himself across the gap, and hit the ground running. He raced toward the next gap, not bothering to look as he flew through the void. He kept running, jumping, letting his body take over. He loved the way the wind tossed his long brown hair. He continued for another hour, until he reached the edge of the city. The gap between buildings was nearly twenty feet, with a ten foot drop. But Asa didn't even slow down. He jumped, easily clearing the gap, and rolled with he hit the ground, losing almost no momentum. He could see the warehouse now, and the group of people gathered on its roof. Damn it, he though, late again. He was always the one last to arrive. He pumped his legs harder, clearing the last gap and landing on the warehouse's fire escape. He ran up the rusting stairs, and sprinted toward the group of people.
Faith tapped her foot impatiently. He should have been here twenty minutes ago, she thought, If he's late again, I'm gong to break both his legs. Of course, she would never actually hurt him, but she would always pick on him. Asa and Faith had a strange relationship. Faith was about seven years older than Asa, and he was like the little brother Faith never had, and as such she would tease him mercilessly. But she would never hurt him, and she certainly would never let anyone else hurt him. Many people learned the hard way that just because Faith was making fun of him, doesn't mean they could. Faith was about to rejoin the others, who were already discussing the reason they were all here, when she heard an impact on the rusting fire escape. She turned and saw him sprinting toward them. She cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted "Hurry your ass up!!" She smiled when she saw him run even faster. He slowed to a halt in front of her, and gave a "sorry" in between catching his breath. "I'll give you something to be sorry about," Faith growled, "now come on, we have things to do." She lead him over to the other runners, who had stopped their conversation. She watched his brown eyes skip over every face, and then relax as he recognized them. There was another female runner named Celeste, whose platinum blond hair was always tied back in a pony tail. Her icy blue eyes pierced through Asa as if she was staring into his soul. There was a man next to her, staring at Asa, his dull grey eyes filled with amusement. He had his massive arms folded across his broad chest. This was Mercury, the mission controller for the runners. Merc would listen in on police frequencies and alert them to their movements. Beside him was Trace, a tall and lean black man. Asa hadn't seen much of him before, but he always seemed to be lost in a daydream. "Now that everyone's here," Faith said, "we can get down to business. I've been informed by Mercury that the police have been reorganizing. ". "Anyway," Faith went on "he's informed me that the police are going to start going after runners. They'll be keeping special attention on all our communications. From now on, make sure all your phones are off. Get in contact with your clients, and tell them they might be at risk as well. We should all leave now, I have no idea how long it will be before the police start looking for us." Everyone began to say their goodbyes, and make their way home. It was dark now, so everyone had to either walk or take a bus. Faith grabbed Asa before he could take off, and pulled him to the side. "If anything happens, you know you can always come see me, right? It doesn't matter what time of day it is." Asa nodded and began to walk away. But before he could, Faith caught him in a tight hug, and whispered "Be careful, mijo." in his ear. He smiled, and whispered back "I will." Faith released him, and he took off running. Faith couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to him, which made Mercury's news all the more worrying. But there's no point in worrying about the future, only planning for it, she thought. But still, the voice in her head persisted, even the best laid plans. Faith tried to shush the little doubt, and started to make her way home.
