Behind the black shield, under drugged eyelids, the night was as impenetrable as the hopelessness that swallowed her. The numbing effects of the drugs couldn’t take away the pain of the betrayal that saturated her blood. The torture and imprisonment about to be visited upon her would not equal the pain that the memories of Trinity would bring.
She drifted in and out of consciousness until her system was shocked by an explosion. Her only hope was that her sanity had cracked and she was free of society’s prison. The mad are free! Her mind exclaimed gleefully. The mad are free!
In reality a full city block of posi-tracks, usually green-colored orbs that kept civilian hover-vehicles on a certain “road,” were the color of red-defective and chaos ensued as the drivers took manual control of their vehicles. Though trained for this situation, it didn’t happen often, and the police officers had to concentrate heavily on their communication with each other in order to dodge traffic and keep the prisoner secured.
“Maneuver south-west, pull up, roll thirty degrees, hit the buckle, now-” the bark of static was barely heard over the crack of automatic gunfire. Fifty caliber shells slammed into the captain’s opal. Though virtually bullet-proof it was no match for seventeen fist sized bullets shot in six seconds from an armored hover-car, sending sparks, shrapnel and blood raining over the tumultuous traffic. The three remaining pods turned and fired upon the armored hover-car two seconds before the Captain was obliterated. Just as quickly, a commercial hover-truck came up behind the police-pods and shot out a steel cable that wrapped around the detainee-pod. Secured, the cable pulled the pod to the gaping back door of the hover-truck at six hundred feet per second. Two of the pods turned toward the hover-truck. One was ambushed from the side by another armored hover-car. It was immediately dispatched. Of the two remaining pods, one was still engaged with the armored hover-car that had initiated the attack and the other was maneuvering through traffic and around the tops of buildings, chasing the commercial hover-truck. Police issued machine gun bullets caromed off the exterior of the truck. The second armored hover-car was in pursuit of the pod.
“Get him, get him!” orders screamed through the armored hover-truck’s radio.
“I can’t get a clean shot!” the armored hover-car driver yelled.
As the armored truck turned around a corner, the back door presented itself to the officer’s machine gun fire and one of the men inside, clinging to the handles on the wall, was split in half.
“Fuck, Fin is dead!”
“Just shoot him now before he kills anyone else!”
The armored hover-car took aim and let the fifty cals go. One bullet went past the police-pod, skimming the side of the opal resting inside the back of the truck. Had it been a few inches to the right, Aylea would have been no more. The bullet was slightly deflected and it burrowed harmlessly in the side of the truck. The second bullet hit the truck’s closing door, ricocheted, and lodged itself in another mercenary’s leg. The third one hit a civilian vehicle, tearing through its driver-side door like paper and ripping a woman’s stomach apart. Blood exploded, coating the interior cockpit and the nose of the hover-car tipped down as it started its descent, smashing into other civilian vehicles on its way down. The next eight bullets found their mark, shredding the police-pod apart. “Target is destroyed, battle unit 1, do you need assistance?”
The instigating armored hover-car responded: “No, target has been destroyed. I do need medical help, but stay with the Primary until camouflage has been shed. I’m going to see if this piece of shit will make it to the nearest OP.” Codeword for Out Post, where their own doctors could work on the wounded.
With both vehicles still in motion, a mercenary crawled out of the passenger side window of the commercial hover truck. He ascended a ladder to the top, where he attached a bungee to himself. He opened the first metal latch, then repelled down the side of the truck, opening more metal latches.
When the last one was released, he jumped as high as his bungee would allow as the metal shell peeled away. The mercenary threw a high-powered grenade after the shell and clambered into the now officially licensed government truck. The armored hover-car took off moments before the posi-track began glowing green again. The government hover-truck was locked into its place on the road, obediently following the green posi-tracks on its way to deliver its cargo.
Forty miles later the government vehicle stopped at a penthouse suite balcony and a lone man in a tuxedo carrying a brief case knocked on the driver’s side door. The driver stepped out and the tuxedo man stepped in, putting the brief case on the seat between him and the passenger. The passenger pulled out a pistol and put it to the tuxedo man’s temple. “What’s to stop me from blowing your brains out and taking the money and the hostage?”
“There are snipers watching this vehicle. If I don’t make it out alive, no one does.”
The mercenary nodded and jumped out of the vehicle, leaving the tuxedo man intact. The tuxedo man didn’t even pause to watch the mercenary turn on his personal hover pack and glide to safety. He just put the hover-truck into gear and piloted the vehicle to the destination point.