His fingers drummed along the table. A small burst of noise in the quiet bar. The beat was study, thoughtful portraying the repetitive thought in his head. A nursed drink sat barely a sip left. Harkness didn’t bother signalling for another and as always the signature line furrowed his brow.
He always thought it would be loudly, never quietly. Harkness believed the last thing he would see would be a burst of blue or the end of barrel. This didn’t do him justice. There was no Security Chief styled drama that would come suddenly. Harkness was expecting this ever since the warning alerted in his system.
The Railroad were clever. It was only a matter of time before they worked out a way to keep all the runners safe, almost all the runners. There was a signal for each department of synthetics. Hunters like Harkness ran on one wave length whereas Companions like Elise another. The same could be said for Ian. The railroad have found that signal and rightly so, were going to jam it.
It prevented any hunter from becoming functional enough to do their job, hunt. They would simply cut out for lack of a better word. Harkness winced at the terminology. The small gift the Railroad could offer him though was a warning. A warning in the form of a countdown. He knew how long he had left to the very second.Â
He didn’t bother fighting it. His synthetic muscles felt tired. His programmed mind strained. He had already experienced everything he had wanted to of a free life, that and some more. Harkness wouldn’t remember it but somewhere there would be that memory of pain from a wound, the quiet content of being in the Security Tower and the burn of a palm help against his jaw.
Harkness sighed, ah hell, with a tired push he stood from the table allowing the sound of his footsteps to accompany him out of the bar. He squinted when the light hit him as he opened the door, a human reaction that had been programmed into habit. He took a quiet moment to stare out to the flat dirt ahead of him.
There was no moment. He had given Lana a kiss on the brow. He made the effort not to say something along the lines of he would be back later but let her know that she was appreciated. He had left a note for another, in the form of a electronic message that would send as the timer ended. No room for a reply. No opportunity for regret.
He would be content. Harkness took a cigarette out from the near empty crumpled packet. Not returning it to his pocket but instead choosing to place it on the ledge by the door. Someone else could have them. Then he stepped forward. A step at a time light up by the glow of the smoke.Â
There was a smirk as he thought all this moment really needed was a coffee he almost finished a laugh but the countdown ended.Â
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