“The City That Never Sleeps”
Moonlight cascaded over the winding currents of the Drammenselva, transforming the river into a mirror reflecting the city’s glow. The Predator perched motionless on a rocky outcrop, his bio-mask humming softly as it adjusted focus. For the first time in three centuries of interstellar hunts, he found himself studying not prey, but… a place.
The River Port
Freighters groaned against their moorings under the weight of the tide. Two dockworkers in orange vests exchanged lazy banter, their breath forming ghostly clouds in the chill air. One lit a cigarette – the tiny flare momentarily illuminating a faded “Bergen” tattoo on his neck. Ornate cast-iron lampposts cast lace-like shadows across cobblestones. A burst of laughter and the scent of grilled salmon escaped from a pub doorway. A young couple, fingers intertwined, passed a bookstore where gilded spines glimmered in the dark.
Bio-mask readout:
Air temperature: 28°F
Ambient noise: 43 dB (peaceful)
Threat probability: 0.7%
The Predator tilted his head slightly.
The Spiralen
The concrete helix climbed the hillside, its contours traced by blue LED lights. At the viewpoint, a teenage boy struggled to embrace his girlfriend while the wind conspired to steal his cap.
Ypsilon Bridge
The glass-and-titanium marvel sang in the wind like a tuning fork. Below, a tour boat drifted past with tipsy passengers – someone began singing off-key, the melody merging with seagull cries.
Thor Junior pawed impatiently at the stone beside him.
“Quiet,” the Predator hissed, though the usual menace was absent.
Near the bridge’s foundation, an old man fed ducks breadcrumbs with arthritic fingers.
