Chapter Sixty-Two - Attempting Common Sense


    Chapter Sixty-Two - Attempting Common Sense


    The average hover vehicle isnt that much more expensive than what you would have paid for a new car in 2025, accounting for inflation.


    The difficulty lies in all the fees, taxes, and hidden costs that come after the vehicle has been locked into a payment plan. The driver needs a license, needs to enter the gacha with the Ministry of Transportation for permission to use the airroads, and needs to pay for the three different insurances necessary to use a vehicle. That doesnt include refueling cost, either for fossil-fuel powered vehicles, or the KW/H rate for electric vehicles. Nor does it take into account the cost of things such as parking spaces and obligatory maintenance, or the cost of the subscription services that allow the driver to use their mirrors or anti-collisions assistance.


    --The True Costs: An Analysis of the Roads of Today, 2041


    ***


    My grip on the handles tightened and I grit my teeth as I narrowly avoided braining myself on the overhang over the hotels entrance hangar.


    I shot out over the city and through a lane of busy traffic. Automatic proximity horns blared in warning as I cut in between two vans, then turned so that I just barely managed to slip in between two skyscrapers.


    I threw my weight to the side and slowed down to a hovering stop over the city. Oh, shit, I breathed.


    You might want to consider letting the hovercycles autopilot take care of any future flying.


    Yeah? I asked as my heart started to calm down. I glanced down and felt a bit of vertigo tugging at my stomach as I saw the ground far, far below. I was over a few skyscrapers, the lights pouring out of their layered windows acted like an arrow to the street below, only broken up by sky bridges that lead from one building to another.


    A lane of traffic some fifty metres down created a blurry mess of cars in every shade of monochrome in the foreground.


    I swallowed past the wriggling in my chest and took a few more breaths while focusing on the horizon, instead of the drop. It helped a bit. I didnt think I had a fear of heights, you know, I said.


    Perhaps the different circumstances are whats causing your vertigo?


    Yeah, I guess, I said. Id never seen the city from this high up without being in a hovercar, or atop a nice, stable building. This was different. I was basically straddling a piece of high-tech machinery that was between me and a very long fall. I think I wanna learn how to fly this thing, a little.


    Certainly. Ill turn on the flight-assist mode. It will correct any major mistakes you make and give you some hints. It isnt as capable as actual learning software, but it should assist.


    A few images appeared over my vision, especially as I looked down. A superimposed image of the handles being twisted back and forth to tell me how to give the hovercycle fuel, and instructions on how to use the pedals to aim the cycle up and down. Neat, I said. Well go slow, I think. Ah, can you point me towards our destination?


    Do you intend to arrive there the standard way, or did you intend to arrive in a more violent fashion?


    Lets go in through the front door, I said.


    Understood. Mapping your trajectory now.


    I nodded. Made sense. So I bet their entire gimmick is that they pretend to be all discrete and the like?


    Essentially. We will need to see if they actually do as their advertising suggests.


    The elevator stopped, and I walked out right into what was obviously a killbox. It wasnt as fancy as the killbox back at the gala. The explosives on the walls werent hidden here, and the large turrets at the far end of the passage pointed all the way down the marble floor and right into the elevator.


    Uh, I said.


    Perhaps a stealthy entrance would have been preferable after all.


    I didnt get shot full of holes, so I stepped up and out of the elevator, the old lady behind me never even noticing that she was downrange of a lot of firepower. The door closed with a whisper.


    I started across the corridor while eyeing the guns and cameras, then finally the desk behind that. There was a generic android behind the counter, plastic smile locked in place even as its eyes tracked my progress across the room.


    Smooth jazz played in the background, only interrupted by the slight whine of the servos in the guns moving to follow me.


    Greetings, Samurai Stray Cat, and welcome to the Hitman Cooperative. How may we assist you?


    Hey, I said. Im looking for, uh, information on a hit that was taken out?


    You understand that we keep all information entirely confidential here? Its part of the Hitman Code of Honour!


    I raised an eyebrow. You have a code of honour?


    Of course. Do you wish for an ePamphlet of the code?


    No thanks, I said while waving the offer off. Look, I really do need to find out who took out this one, specific hit. The gunman failed already, and I dont feel like causing trouble here.


    I understand your frustration, the android said with canned sincerity. Do you wish to speak with a manager?


    I felt dirty. I... guess?


    One moment please. I will fetch the nearest Hitman Cooperative manager now. In the meantime, please take a seat. How do you like your coffee? Or perhaps you would prefer tea, or an energizing soda drink? All free--asterix--as part of the Hitman Cooperatives Operation: Killing the Bad Press.


    I think Ill just wait, I said.


    ***