Running feels good, a comfort on his soul after day upon day of living in this sleek, artless vessel. His senses come alive with a flicker of focus, the sound of Kovacs' footsteps on the rooftop tile ahead, the pitch of his body as it careens around the corner, and his mind fills in the next: where Kovacs is going, even after he's slipped from sight.

He drops onto the balcony railing, feet finding the narrow stone rail by rote.

Mere seconds now, Kovacs.