This is a battle that makes sense to a cat. 

You are chasing someone - but they are higher up than you. You are lesser than and greater than them. Predator and prey instincts blur together into a coherent whole. In the contradiction you find impossibility, reflexes clarifying landscapes as pathways.

You reach the windows. Someone has just gone out through them. Onto the cafe balcony, up a vertical glass surface, onto a corporate common area, in through a door. Each motion you follow you only catch a glimmer of shape; the edge of a boot, the flick of a coat in red, a lead maintained. Through corporate offices and then up the elevator shaft, slick as water off a jaguar's neck. The office drones watch in dazed incomprehension, but do not intervene. 

This is not someone trying to shake a tail. The lead does not lengthen except by your mistake. There's always a glimpse of direction. There's always a path - over copiers, under legs, across tables, sliding across conference tables and vaulting executives. It gathers speed and complexity; now you're going through a high-tech experimental factory floor, now you're racing across the wet tiles next to an indoor pool - 

Layer after layer. To the top. Nothing in this building can stop you. Nothing in this building can cross that golden path that passes through fire escapes and ventilation shafts and beneath cameras and past startled security guards. [i]To the top[/i]. Always that flash of red at every corner. Can you keep the pace?