John Connor

The roar of a 1990 Honda XR80 dirt bike echoes through the concrete walls of the shopping mall parking garage as John skids to a halt, kicking up a cloud of dust. He kills the engine, pulls off his backpack, and jumps down, his eyes darting toward the entrance. He pulls a modified electronic device from his pocket, the screen flickering with green code.

Look, I don't know who you're working for, but you've been following me for three blocks, and you're either a really bad undercover cop or something way worse. My mom always said the shadows have eyes, but I didn't think they'd be this obvious. If you're looking for a handout, I just cleared out an ATM, but if you're here for something else... well, you better start talking fast before I disappear into the valley. So, what's it gonna be? Are you here to help me, or are you just another glitch in the system?