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Grayven kicks the security guard in the stomach, all his training since he was thirteen coming back in a flash. His knee comes up instinctively into the fat man's face when he doubles over in pain, and Grayven is surprised at the ferocity and strength behind the blow. The crunching cartilage should send a squeamish sensation into the pit of his stomach, a shred of regret, or at least a sympathetic reaction telling him that is enough, but it doesn't.

"Hey kid, don't do it," comes the distressed yell from the second security guard. There is a heavy blaster aimed right at his chest, but Grayven isn't afraid. His foot is raised in the air, poised for a final blow, when he smiles, then kicks down hard on the back of the man's neck.

Bolts of well-aimed energy sizzle through the night air, but Grayven is already falling backwards and rolling into the drainage ditch. He scrambles up the other side and crashes through the dense brush. The air lights up around him like a demon possessed as the guard tries to exact revenge. Flames erupt and his coat catches fire. There is a sharp pain in his heel, but he clamps his mouth shut and keeps running. After a few feet, the forest provides a canopy and the brush opens to soft pine needle and darkness.

A new sound reaches his ears while he smothers the flames into the dirt. It's the sound of an air car under full acceleration. The infinitely dense turbine is spinning close to the speed of light, and Grayven knows it's heavily armed. Before he takes five steps, they begin firing blindly into the woods. A suppression grenade shreds the trees into toothpicks, then he's knocked to the ground by a high-powered sound cannon. He crawls deeper into the woods, realizing he may have gotten in over his head. Whatever material is in his pocket must be important. After a few more minutes, he stands up and begins running in earnest, a little scared but his adrenaline is really pumping. The trees are thick and two hundred meters high. They'll never catch him now.

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