A/N: Hello! This is my story for Nanowrimo. It's still shorter than it should be, but I can't really think of anything. Please provide ideas, anything that could spur my story on, and provide criticism. If you could sacrifice a few minutes of your life, it woudl be greatly appreciated. This is my first attempt at writing something sci-fi-ish, so sorry if it isn't very good.


Nat ran as fast as he could, pistol held loosely in his hands. He had to get out of the building, but he was on the thirtieth floor. It was not going to be an easy task.

Ahead of him were the doors to the emergency stairs. If he could get there, then he could drop down to a lower level, where he could actually survive the drop.

Shouts echoed behind him and several guards sprinted around the corner, guns held at the ready. They opened fire.

Nat ducked and weaved, dodging the bullets with inhuman speed. As he did so, he turned and with two precise shots, took down the squad leader and his first wing. The rest he didn't bother with.

He crashed through the doors to the stairwell, looked down, and cursed. The way down was crisscrossed with infrared lasers, presumably the detonators to some sort of explosives. He couldn't go down the stairs without mortally injuring himself. He whirled, and instead started up the stairs, where it was free of and traps that Nat could see.

The guards ran through the door and lost precious seconds searching for Nat. It took them about three seconds to ascertain that he wasn't going down, and another two to look up and spot his figure rapidly going up the stairs.

Nat smashed down the door to the forty-second floor and ran, looking for a window of some sort. If he could jump to a nearby building, he would be home free! But first he needed a suitable window that was big enough and close enough to a building.

A mercenary burst out of a door in front of him, and before he could raise his gun, Nat had drawn his sword and decapitated him. He looked into the room that the mercenary had come from and noticed a window. Perfect!

Nat darted in and closed the door. He dragged the desk inside to block the door. It wouldn't last too long, but it was all Nat would need.

He stared out the window and started calculating distances and forces. He would have to move pretty damn fast to cover the distance to the building. The building was an office building, similar to the one he was in, and hopefully the layout was similar enough that he could get out fast.

He backed up and dropped the pistol on the ground. It was unnecessary weight, and would only slow him down. He also dropped the sword. That was even more dead weight.

He ignored the sudden slamming of the door and sprinted forwards. He felt a bullet enter his arm, but totally ignored it as he threw himself through the window.

The time he spent in the air felt like an eternity. It was probably only a second or two, but for Nat, time slowed. He could feel the air biting through his thin jacket and blowing snow into his black hair. His keen green eyes spotted the idling car two blocks away. Then he smashed through the window of the fortieth floor on the other building and slid all the way across the room, only stopping when he hit the wall. He scrambled up and kicked open the door, and was away. He ran to the stairs, scrambled down them to the third floor, then jumped out and landed on a car, triggering the alarm. He ignored it and sprinted to the idling car. As soon as he got in, the world around him faded to white.

Nat blinked and shoved the visor off his face, rubbing his eyes. The damn thing always hurt his eyes.

"Well, welcome back Nat," Marie said, eyes glued to the screen in front of her. Her fingers blurred back and forth over the keyboard, inputting calculations as fast as her implants could let her.

Nat grumbled, "Yeah, yeah," as he rubbed his arm where he got shot. The phantom pain would last at least another hour or so. At least it was only one bullet. "At least the implants work. I actually dodged all those bullets. I think I need a reflex upgrade. That way my mind could actually keep up with my body."

Marie shrugged. "That'll cost you," she warned.

Nat groaned. "I know." He swung his legs off the Virtualus and stood. He started walking out. "I'll bill you later."

Without looking, Marie stuck out a hand and snagged his coat. "Nuh uh. Last time, you stiffed me with that eye enhancer. I lost three grand on that. You pay. Now."

Nat sighed and pulled out his wallet. He pulled out his last credit chips and handed them to Marie. "That's the last of my money," he groused. "Spend it on something useful.

He saw Marie's head move and guessed that she had rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Come back again and give me more money."

Nat stepped out and shielded his eyes from the sun. It was a bright day outside, and almost everyone was wearing sunglasses or sporting tinted eye enhancers. Nat had never really wanted those, so he just ignored the glare of the sun. He started running, his initial speed about the speed of a running speed of a large dog. He poured on the speed and started making his way home, his mind barely keeping up on his run home. Twice he nearly barreled into passerby only to dodge at the last second.

Ten minutes later or so, Nat slowed down and came to a halt on his porch. He opened the door and called, "Mom, I'm home!"

Nat's mom walked out of the kitchen, drying her hands. She was one of the few people left in LA who still hadn't felt the urge to get an implant. "Hello Nat. Did you practice yet?"

Nat mentally slapped himself. "Oh, I forgot. I'll do it now."

Nat's mom snorted. "You better," she warned, "Or your father will be on your case. You know how he is."

Nat nodded quickly. Oh he did know. He supposed that was because his father used to be a general in the army. Discipline was very strict in his household, and Nat's father required him to take at least one martial art and be trained in the use of a gun. Fortunately, Nat enjoyed both of these activities, and was avidly learning how to use a sword and shoot both a pistol and a sniper rifle. The pistol because Nat's father believed that he should be able to protect himself with a portable weapon, and the sniper rifle because he didn't want him to be on the front lines. Especially since he was going to join the Army in a couple years, when he graduated high school.

Nat walked out to the garage and pulled one of his three swords off the wall. It was a simple falchion, nothing special. It had perfect balance and survived his training, which was all he really needed. He drew the dulled sword and moved himself into the correct stance. Then he started moving through all his forms, going through each motion with a sort of elegance. He'd been taught for four years, and was now kind of free-styling on his own. Once he finished all his forms, he started improvising, moving from one motion to another move that flowed together. Once he finished, he was sweating and considering taking off his shirt. He was a bit wind chilled though, since his implants were moving him faster that he was used to.

With a well-practiced motion, he sheathed the sword and set it upon the wall. Then he started off towards his father's gun range. When his father had retired, he had taken up ownership of a gun range about four miles east of LA. It was a bit of a distance, but with Nat's increased speed, it took about forty-five minutes of hard running to get there.

He walked inside to see Jon, one of the regulars in the range. He was a hardcore gun shooter, and could shoot any one of the guns in the inventory.

"Hey kid," he grunted. He was busy cleaning a pistol. Nat could only tell that it was a Glock. He wasn't intimately familiar with any of the guns except for his rifle. He used one of the biggest guns, a Barrett . It had taken him two years to work up to that. It was a big gun and required a ton of care and time. Otherwise he would just pull a random pistol from the racks and start shooting. Today, he was just going to shoot handguns. As usual, he picked one of the guns at random. From the feel of it, Nat guessed it was a Beretta, but he didn't really care too much.

He walked out to the outdoor shooting range and grabbed a set of earplugs and shades. Deafening himself would not be a good idea. He stood at one of the stations. Raising the gun, he aimed down the sights and took a deep breath. He zoomed in to the target with his eye enhancers. Then he fired, emptying the clip. Once it was empty, he lowered the gun and ejected the clip. He set it down carefully and went out to check his target. Fortunately, he was the only one there except for Jon at the moment, so he didn't have to worry about stopping the other people.

The target had a hole right in the bulls eye that was slightly bigger than the typical bullet. That meant that his aim was dead on, with the tiniest of deviations. Good. He'd been practicing for six years. He'd better be that good.

He walked back and called to Jon, "Is anyone else here?"

"Nope," he yelled. "Your dad's on an errand run for your mom, so it's just you and me now."

"Good, so I can start my specialized moving training?"

"I guess. I ain't taking responsibility, so you better know what you're doing."

"Yeah, I know."

Nat reloaded the gun and stood to the side of all the targets. He slid two extra clips into his pockets. He stood and readied himself, then started running and shooting. He double-tapped each target and reloaded quickly, letting the spent clip drop to the ground. He kept moving around, emptying his clips into the targets until he was out.

All of the bullet-holes were tightly grouped around and in the bulls-eye. Not bad when he was running, albeit at a much more normal speed than with his sword.

He breathed out and started back to the main building.

He was cleaning the Beretta when Marie came in. He looked up, startled. "Marie! I didn't know you came here!"

"I don't usually, but I have a membership. For those off days when I'm pissed and need a way to relieve stress." Marie set down her bag and busied herself with one of the Glocks. The middle-aged woman was surprisingly knowledgeable with guns.

Nat raised an eyebrow. "So you used to come here a lot."

Marie turned to him. "What makes you say that?"

"It takes a bit of time to get that familiar with a gun. Your actions seem practiced and done almost automatically. It took me a month to get that familiar with any gun."

Jon spoke up. "But you don't focus on one gun, and you didn't move on to sniper rifles until a good few months after that. Marie's been coming about twice a month for about a year now."

Nat shrugged. "By the way Marie, did you get those reflex implants I've been looking for?"

"Does it matter? I thought you said you were almost broke."

Nat lowered his eyes. "Well," he mumbled, "I may have exaggerated a bit."

Marie smiled. "Well, no matter," she said, dismissing the problem. "every bit you spend comes to me, so I don't care. As long as you pay for it. It came in last week." She gestured towards Nat's eye. "Since you got that thing, I could do it now, right here. I had a feeling I would need it."

Nat grinned. "Lemme wash my hands then." He darted off towards the bathroom. After a quick wash, he popped out his false eye and pulled out a small container from his pocket. He gently set it in and closed it, making sure it was tight. Then he pulled his black and green eye patch from his butt pocket and slid it over his socket. Jon said it always gave him the creeps to see Nat without his eye or eye patch.

He walked back out to see Marie readying her tools. "Here," she said, "lay down on this table." Nat obeyed and laid down. He felt a small prick at his neck and felt the sedative kicking in. "Don't worry, it'll be done in a sec," Marie told him as he faded away.