The explosion was beautiful. Green, red, and blue lights danced in the rain.
Lev exhaled smoke. “Same as always. Nobody owns the mobtop. You just rent it from me.” mobtop
A fourth blip appeared. No color. No IFF code. Just a hungry, silent dot moving straight toward the city’s gold depository. The explosion was beautiful
The rain over Verensk had a name: Lev “The Sponge” Tarasov. He wasn’t a killer or a thief. Lev ran the mobtop —the clandestine airspace above the city’s five crime families. The explosion was beautiful. Green