Page 31 of Sublime Target

Beyond the sound-proofed cocoon of Garner Tower’s luxurious foyer, chaos reigned.

There was colored smoke everywhere. Bright red mingled with hues of pink. People milled about in a disorganized fashion.

Some were even running away.

Most of them had their faces covered by scarves or masks—to hide from the surveillance, no doubt—but a few brave souls had decided to ditch anonymity and show their faces to the world.

Some of them simply didn’t care.

Music played in the background; a deep, pulsating beat.

She couldn’t see Jerik.

Where is he?

Clarissa spied an umbrella in a nearby stand. Made from a reflective silver material, it was one of those newfangled Force-Field ones that actually emitted some sort of rain-repelling current.

Instinctively, she picked it up. It couldn’t hurt to have a long, sturdy implement in her hand. At the very least, she could protect herself from spills and splatters.

The big glass doors of the front entrance slid open as she strode toward them. She gripped the umbrella tighter and walked out into the cacophony.

The street was packed with people. They were mostly teenagers and twenty-somethings. To Clarissa’s surprise, nobody paid her much attention, even though she was obviously a Garner Corp employee.

Everyone seemed to be pushing and straining, gravitating toward a spot in the center of the commotion.

Then someone screamed.

A collective gasp went through the crowd.

Then, silence.

Even the music stopped.

It was strange, almost eerie. So many people, and yet the street was so damn quiet.

As if a cat had dropped amongst the pigeons.

And then the people parted like the sea, and a menacing obsidian-and-pink figure emerged from the commotion.

Of course, it was him.

Clarissa’s heart skipped a beat. She was surrounded by humans, but her eyes were drawn only to him.

To his powerful, chiseled form, so different from anything and anyone else.

He stood out. It was undeniable—he was not of this planet.

He left a small group of shell-shocked humans in his wake. Wide-eyed and shaken, they didn’t dare move.

She almost felt sorry for the two humans standing at the epicenter of the aftermath. One of them was a young man in his early twenties with long blonde hair tied back with a red bandanna. He was gasping for breath, clutching his ribcage as if he’d been struck. The other was a woman of around the same age. She wore a grey jumpsuit and big reflective goggles. In her hands was a large cannon-looking thing.

Was that what they’d been using to fire paint bombs at the building?

She didn’t dare point it at anyone.

She was actually shaking a little.

Clarissa could hazard a guess as to what had happened.

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