In 2023, the French Biochemist Enzo Esther was bestowed the Nobel Peace Price for his discovery, innovation, and derivation of the “Esther” resource, thus establishing the first link between science and religion.
“Sergeant Code? Sir…?” echoed the disembodied voice in Fark’s head. The sound of the woman’s persistent voice mixed in with rhythmic tapping of high heels on the waxed marble floor created an odd song. The colorless hallways streamed by, accepting his crowded thoughts like a blank canvas. Critical technological transport from the biotechnical organization, D.O.G.G, had recently been intercepted by petty terrorists. The transport convoy was not only cut off en route, but the terrorists actually managed to seize the tech. And because this happened in his district, Fark was the one who would be getting shit from the old men upstairs. His day had just begun and it was already rocking off to a bad start. He turned another countless corner into a busy corridor. It had taken him a while to notice the secretary struggling to keep pace with him.
“Report” he said flatly, instantly regretting it. He braced himself for a plate of bad news. He watched her subconsciously nodding over her headset as if the person on the other end could see it. “Adams…?”
“Uh…right!” She shuffled through the many clipboards in her arms. “As you know, as of 6 AM this morning, assailants hijacked bio-technology from one of D.O.G.G.’s confidential convoy; we have confirmed that these assailants are Rogue-related.” ‘Hijack’? With security like that they were practically giving it to them. Five hundred thousand dollars worth of crap security, too bad they forgot to gift wrap it. Fark nodded.
She went on to tell of the Carbonaine vehicle the criminals had pre-prepared and large sum of them escaped with the tech. Fark nimbly stepped to the side, dodging a man pushing a cart filled with supply boxes down the hall as he spoke.
“Escaping in a vehicle that massive? It doesn’t make any sense…Are we tracking them?”
“Yes, we are in hot pursuit as we speak, we should hurry.”
The two pushed and pardoned their way to their adjacent offices where Adams shoved her paperwork in her desk and grabbed a jacket, her favorite duster. Fark made a few calls to other Tectum districts letting them know to stay off his turf. Adams barged through the door right when he took his Beretta 92 from his lower desk compartment.
“Why do you still carry that?” she asked, not expecting an answer. Fark froze briefly; noting the weapon Adams holstered, and then comfortably placed the pistol in his waist holster.
“You gotta remember the basics, Jess.” He swiped his hat of the desk and put it on his head, careful not to forget it. The two spent a moment gathering and sorting what needed to be done and Fark made a few quick orders to his personnel.
“That’s become your symbol around here, you know.” He searched for what she may be referring to. Instinctively, he placed a hand on his head once he realized, feeling the large letters on the panel.
“Oh this? Can’t go on a case without it.” A bit of nostalgia revealed a glint of a smile on the officer’s hardened face. He reached back into his desk and pulled out car keys.
“No, no, no, we’re not using a car that’s older than I am. We need speed.” She tossed her E.S. Card on the table. “We’re using my Madison. I’ll be in the lot, hurry or I’ll leave without you.” She turned and trotted through the door.
“The 2020 Ford GTR4 Tungsten ain’t old, and you’re not that young!” He barked, voice rising toward the end just before the door slammed shut. Fark stared at his keys, the E.S. Card, and then back at his keys and reluctantly dropped it back into his desk. ‘Leave without me?’ Good luck with that, I have the card, idiot. He grabbed his badge, the E.S. Card, grabbed his jacket swiftly off the rack, and darted through the door.
“To all units who are in pursuit, the suspect vehicle has overturned upon route one-eighty one, suspects have been begun confrontation. First response units are holding fire, and awaiting verification.” The voice from the communications radio crackled.
“Make a left here, it’s faster.” Adams said pointing at the intersection that was coming up fast. Fark turned so sharply they skidded through traffic a nearly smashed into three cars or so. He expertly maneuvered the vehicle into the Y-36 highway, tires screeching and cars frantic to avoid the mad driver. The Madison is a reliable machine; he floored the pedal and kept the sirens roaring as he weaved between traffic. His attention flickered back and forth between his own GPS and Adams rapid directions.
“No doubt this is rebel related. But why would the rebels commit such an outright attack? Its suicide no matter how you look at it.” The large buildings on her right were racing past her window, “what are they planning?” she wondered aloud.
Fark pressed a little harder on the pedal. “Doesn’t matter, most likely one of their petty heists gone wrong, let’s get there before…” They continued driving in high-speed silence as they stopped to listen. Above the quiet hum of the Madison’s engine, there was a sound of a dreadful roar that overtook the highway.