Rafael’s stomach drops.
Yet Kane doesn’t slow. He yanks them into a sharp bank, their world tilting sideways. The HOV screams past, close enough that a rush of air gusts over Rafael’s visor.
His fingers tremble against Kane’s jacket. The blur of traffic finally steadies as the bike eases outof the air lanes.
“See? Nothing to worry about.” Kane squeezes his arm. Rafael exhales and glances up.
Midtown’s towers and uniform apartments vanish behind them. Downtown rises instead in skyscrapers packed tight, each more extravagant than the last. Colossal holographic projections flicker between buildings while elite-owned HOVs slice through them.
Below the bike, a web of transparent skyways replaces real streets, terraces, and suspended platforms crowded with hotels, clubs, museums, and casinos. People in designer outfits move across the glowing walkways without hesitation.
Meanwhile, Rafael can’t help but gape. He’s in the heart of Nova City, worlds away from what he’s used to. All thanks to Kane. His arms tighten around him.
The Premiere Club Arena comes into view as they move deeper into downtown. Home to the cyber gladiator championship. Rafael steals a glance at the man driving their bike.
Would they ever sit in those stands together? Could Kane show up without drawing attention? The idea seems impossible. Maybe a gladiator-themed date is the safer dream to chase.
They turn a corner, and green floods his vision. Along the transparent skyway, a sea of restaurants lines the street, pulsing with Terra’s signature green. He inhales sharply.
This is Tastebud Alley. The country’s hub of synthetic cuisine. He’s always dreamed of visiting.
“Did you mean to bring me here?” Rafael is almost breathless as they zoom past Farm to Terra and Terra Capital Prime—Nova City’s most exclusive restaurants.
“Figured it was time you saw it outside V-link,” Kane answers.
Rafael blinks. He mentioned this place once, half in passing. Yet somehow Kane held onto it.
He tightens his arms around Kane’s waist. “Thank you.”
Metal fingers brush over his as the bike drops to a landing platform between the restaurants. As soon as they touch down, Kane’s head whips to the side. Rafael follows his gaze across the skyway.
Two Terra’s guards exit a nearby restaurant with scanners in hand. They sweep geometric grids of light over anyone who passes. Rafael freezes, breath catching, until Kane taps the side of his helmet and his visor darkens. The guards walk on without a second glance, their green uniforms and metal rifles disappearing into the crowd.
Only then does Kane lift off his helmet, his shoulders easing. “Come on. We didn’t come all this way just to watch corp grease.” He glances back at Rafael with a grin. “Let’s get something to eat. See what Terra Inc. thinks passes for food.”
Rafael’s shoulders ease, but his body doesn’t entirely relax. What if someone recognizes Kane? What if more enforcers sweep through? What about the NCPD? One wrong move could ruin everything—for him, for Kane, for everyone he cares about.
“Are we okay here?” He hates how thin his voice sounds.
Kane shakes his head, stepping out of Rafael’s hold to unclip his helmet. “Didn’t I tell you not to worry?” His smirk softens the words as he helps lift it off. “Those enforcers passed right by us. Didn’t even try to scan.”
Maybe, but how long will that work? Rafael’s mind reels while Kane opens the side compartment.
He stuffs both helmets inside before slipping on his visor. “Coda upgraded the scanner on my bike and my visor. We’recovered.”
Rafael nods, forcing out a breath. Kane wouldn’t have brought him here if he wasn’t sure.
“Okay.” His voice is steady this time. “I saw on V-link there’d be some unique pop-up stalls today.” Not that he ever imagined getting a chance to try one. “Think we can check them out?”
“Sure.” Kane shrugs. “But I have to draw the line at those food injector stands. I prefer to ingest my food like a normal person—or mostly chrome person.”
“Me too,” he agrees, watching Kane adjust controls on the HOV’s dash.
With a few taps, the decals and license plate shift to an entirely different number.
“Wow, is that—will that really work? I’ve never seen tech like that.”
“Echo’s been using this tech for years,” Kane informs him, glancing at his wristlink. “Coda pieced it together from old VitaCorp schematics. Not exactly corpo-issue, but it fools most scanners—and most people. The trick is keeping it on simple shapes or flat surfaces. She tried using it on herself once. Didn’t end well.”