I’d maximized Benny’s feed to encompass my immediate field of vision. The diner camera was a tiny rectangle in the corner, the newsfeed hadn’t stopped, but the VTOL ’s mounted camera was so far above the scene now that I couldn’t make out any details.

Benny was moving fast, way fast. He must have jacked his adrenaline way high. His perspective was confusing, blurred, like an old-fashioned camera trying to take action photographs. I wished I had simstim capabilities so that I could feel his high, his speed and confidence.

He killed one man before the last of the glass even fell to the floor. He turned to the other and I watched, through his eyes, the hammer come down on the pistol, the flare of gunpowder, the bullet propelled in a gout of gas flame from the barrel. Slow motion. Benny ducked and side-stepped close, knife working. Slash the throat. His second slash cut the strap on the bag, he caught it, and kept moving. Two kicks shattered the keypad lock on the back door and sent it flying open.

He was out.