The man walked over to the ledge and sat down, letting one leg hang freely and keeping the other propped up and reclining his arm on it. Now, this would have been a normal thing for a person to do except for one thing: he was sixty feet above the streets. He sighed and looked out over the vast expanse of the city, sending waves of resentfulness with his glance as he ran his hand through his medium-length brown hair. He turned his head as he heard a footstep behind him. Approaching him was a woman in a pair of white pants and a black tank top.

"Hey Faith," he said cheerily, "what's up?" The woman came and sat on the ledge next to him.

"Merc told me I'd find you here, Fox," Faith said looking at him, "he also said he wants to talk to you about a job." She finished and looked over the gleaming white towers of the city. A slight wind blew, making Fox's red-orange scarf flutter in Faith's face. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was time for him to do what he did best: run. See, he was a runner. He was a member of a system of elite couriers who carried secret messages under the government's nose. They saw the world in a different way; no path too outrageous, and no risk too great. They were trained in the art of movement and escape; acrobats and risk-takers that moved high above the city's streets. They didn't need cell phones, in fact, phones were poison to them. The government strictly monitored any and all electronic communications throughout the city.

Fox stood up and stretched. He reached into the pocket in his blue pants and pulled out a pair of fingerless gloves the same shade of reddish-orange as the scarf around his neck. He slipped the gloves over his hands and performed a few pre-running stretches to loosen up his muscles as Faith climbed to her feet.

"I'll meet you back at Merc's place," she said, "I've got something to do first." Fox looked at her, noticing the familiar tattoo under her right eye and the strip of ink resembling a circuit board running the length of her right arm. He had the same design running down his left side; all runners had it tattooed somewhere on their bodies. He waved at her as he turned around.

"Alright then, see you around!" Fox then broke into a run, gaining speed as he approached the edge of the building. He glanced around, quickly spotting the closest rooftop. He reached the edge of the building and gave a large push with his trailing leg. He flew through the air, easily clearing the twenty foot gap and falling a short ten feet before landing on the roof and continuing his sprint. Legs pumping, Fox dashed across the rooftop, vaulting over and ducking under the system of pipes that were strewn about the roof.

After about a solid hour of high-flying acrobatics, Fox leapt one final time and landed with a roll on one rooftop. He stopped running and began to walk over to the hollowed-out air conditioning unit that Merc used for his hideout. He climbed easily to the top and entered through the 'door' where there was once a fan. As he dropped down, he saw Merc sitting in his usual spot; staring into computer screens and monitoring the communications between cops.

"'Bout time you got here," Merc said turning around in his chair, "I thought the cops might have got you." He smiled mischievously at the younger man who had just entered.

"Oh, shut up," Fox replied with a smirk of his own, "what've you got for me?"

"I've got a request from Oust. He wants to see you to discuss some important business. He wouldn't tell me what it was; just that he wanted you to meet him at his apartment in about half an hour." Merc was using that matter-of-fact tone that he always used when he was discussing business. He turned and tossed a radio earpiece to Fox, who snatched the small device out of the air and attached it to his right ear. He stood up and rubbed his hands on his black tee-shirt.

"I'd get moving," Merc said to him, "the wires are quiet right now, but I can't promise you they'll stay that way." Fox nodded and climbed out of the HQ. He turned to the east and dropped down to the roof of the building. Let's see, Oust's place is about four miles from here, he thought to himself, and it looks to be about 3:30. Shit, I'm gonna have to move fast. It was dangerous to run after dark. The visibility was horrible and you could hurt yourself…or worse. There had been a few young runners who thought it would be better to run in the dark; they had used the 'cover of night' excuse. Well, the night sure did cover that ledge that they fell off of.

He took off running, leaping to the next rooftop with ease. He continued to dash across this roof top until he noticed the next was too far away for him to make the jump. Luckily, his runner training allowed him to spot ways out of situations like this. He noticed a pipe extending down the side of the building and aimed for it. As he approached the edge, however, he stumbled over a small pipeline that he hadn't spotted. There wasn't enough time for him to stop. Fox gathered all the strength he could in his legs and pushed off from the edge. As he flew through the air, he knew he didn't have enough momentum to make the jump. As he neared the pipe, Fox whipped the scarf from around his neck, gripped it by one end, and slung the other end at the pipe. The scarf caught the pipe, and pulled taught. Fox swung to the wall of the building and hauled himself up to the pipe. He wrapped the scarf back around his neck and clambered up the pipe and onto the rooftop.

"I told Merc this thing was a good idea, he said proudly, "I knew it wouldn't slow me down." Merc had been strongly opposed to a runner wearing any kind of loose clothing, especially anything around the neck. But days and days of heckling had finally broken him. He gave in to Fox's demands and the very next day, Fox had the scarf around his neck. However, it wasn't just a normal scarf. It was made of a reinforced polymer that was much stronger and more durable than any normal piece of clothing. It also had a weight at one end that Fox had created to act as a sort of grappling hook to help him reach higher places…and save him from the occasional slip-up. After making sure to double check the rooftop for any small pipes, Fox dashed of and continued making his way to his contact.

............

Fox landed on the roof of Oust's apartment building with a roll. He walked to the rooftop access door and entered. A short flight of stairs took him to the top floor of the building. He glanced down the hall at the elevators, grimaced, and entered the stairwell. After dashing down several floors, Fox passed stopped in front of the door to the 67th floor. He entered the door and walked down the hall, glancing at the apartment numbers as he passed. When he arrived at the desired door, he knocked twice and listened to the sound of things being hastily shoved into temporary hiding spots. Well, that's Oust for you. Fox smiled as the thought ran through his mind. Always paranoid that every visitor wants to…well, oust him. After a few moments, the door was opened by an athletic looking black man.

"What you want, ya damn cops," he said before spotting Fox, "I ain't done nothin' illegal, mon! Ah, Fox, I was expectin' you. Come in, mon!" Fox entered the apartment and Oust closed the door behind him, locking the three lock fastened to the door.

"Merc told me that you had something for me," Fox said, "What can I do for you?" Oust took a seat on a large leather recliner positioned against one of the walls. He reached under the chair and pulled out a bag with a strap connected to it. Fox recognized it instantly. They were called "runner's bags," and with good reason. These bags were the packages that the runners carried across the city; they were the lifeblood of the underground resistance movements, and they were a runner's greatest responsibility.

"I have a client with one of the more 'prestigious' rebel groups," Oust began to explain, "who is awaiting this package. His headquarters is on the southern edge of the city and all my runners are out on assignment. I need you to run this package across the city, mon. You don't have to go all the way to my client 'cause I have a runner that can rendez-vous with you and transport it the rest of the way. So," he said smirking at Fox, "are you up for a little exercise, mon?"

"You know it." Fox grinned at Oust as the man tossed the bag across the room to him. Fox gave it a glance. He recognized the yellow and black design of the bag; the runners' trademark. He wasn't allowed to open it; the information contained inside was for the client's eyes only. Oust stood up and began to walk toward the back room of his apartment.

"By the way, both Merc and I will track you. Now, get goin', mon." as Oust finished the last sentence, Fox was already heading out back into the hallway. Oust laughed.

"Runners," he said in between laughs, "never know what they're doin' next, mon."