The aching of Dion Harper

摘要

After the man with steel-blue eyes had killed me, he knelt down next to my body, pulled out a thin-bladed knife from a sheath strapped to his shin, and with one quick movement cut off my right ear. That wasn't a part of his contract; I guess he must have had a fetish for trophies. Only moments earlier I had been pleading with him for my life, cornered like a rat, my back pressed against a locked exit door at the lowest level of the Metro Tower underground hoverpark. "I'm not Dion," I cried through chattering teeth, the realization of the imminent end squeezing the air out of my windpipe. "For God's sake, I'm not Dion. I don't..."