Neon Revenge

by Graeme J Greenan

  She glanced down at the carpet. There was no way they’d find an uncontaminated trace of her blood there. They would have just as much luck searching the lower floors; there was just too many bodies, too much blood from multiple sources.

  But the window…

  As far as she was led to believe, only Trammel and the woman had been present in this room at the time of his murder, and her subsequent escape. There was the possibility one of Trammel’s security guards had also been present, but three sources were better than a dozen. Her being was that nobody jumped through a window without leaving blood behind – it was nigh on impossible. She scrutinised each shard until she found a piece with a dark red tip. She smiled, opening an evidence bag.

  Gotcha.

  As she zipped up the bag, she had the odd sensation she was being watched. A shiver ran down her spine. She turned to find one of the white overall-clad scientists staring at her, face covered by the paper mask.

  Then she noticed the scientist wasn’t staring at her, but at the evidence bag, she held in her hand.

  “Can I help you?” she asked. Something felt off about this figure. For some reason, her instincts told her to edge her fingers close to her firearm. She was also aware they were the only two in the room. She hadn’t even noticed the rest of them leaving, as she’d been so embroiled in her analysis of the scene.

  “I can take that downstairs for you, mam,” the scientist said, taking a step forward. It was a simple enough request, Hall thought, but for the smallest hint of panic wavering the scientist's voice.

  Hall slowly began to reach for her holster. “I’m more than capable of bagging and tagging one piece of evidence.”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the scientist warned, though Hall was beginning to get the distinct suspicion this wasn’t a forensic scientist. This was someone else. But who could it be? Was it possible?

  The woman?

  A sick feeling began to knot in her stomach. Images of a violent blur, dispatching trained mercenaries as though they were mere children, flooded her mind causing her limbs to freeze up. If it was who she suspected – if it was the woman – she couldn’t believe her audacity. The place was crawling with police.

  Despite her growing terror, accentuated from her lack of experience, she continued to edge her fingers closer to the butt of her handgun.

  In one quick flick of her wrist, a handgun slipped down from beneath the bogus scientist’s sleeve. She pointed it at Hall’s head. “You’re going to give me that bag and walk out of here, or if you want, I can blow your head off, take the bag anyway, and then your comrades can carry you out of here in a body-bag.”

  “You won’t get out of here alive,” Hall said, trying and failing to sound braver than she felt.

  “It didn’t stop me last night,” the woman said, coldly.

  Thankfully, for Hall’s sake, they were interrupted by a forensic operative who walked in, his head down, carrying a few bags of evidence. “Excuse me, mam…” He raised his head and froze at the scene before him.

  Unlike Hall, the scientist never became apoplectic with fear. Instead, he made an attempt to call for help, but his cries were cut short as the woman spun round at an alarmingly quick pace, driving the handle of her gun down onto the operative’s nose, breaking it. He crashed back into the hallway, clutching his ruined face, blood escaping through his fingers.

  Hall’s training finally kicked in. Using the distraction to her advantage, she unholstered her firearm and fired at the woman. The woman rolled out of the way as the bullet whipped past her head, punching a hole into the plaster wall.

  The woman then disappeared down the hallway as Hall fired a few more rounds. She ran after her, raising her comms to her lips. “Officer in need of assistance. The woman is in the building, I repeat, the woman is in the building.”

  ~

  This is a fucking nightmare.

  Not only was Trammel, his pin, and any sign of new information missing from the scene, her impatience to find her son’s killers had made her complacent – reckless – and had inadvertently exposed her.

  Now half the SPD were trailing her ass.

  Lex sprinted down the hallway as the cacophony of gunshots boomed all around. She skirted around two forensic officers too bemused to know what was going on. She deliberately drove her body into them, creating cover from the intrepid little bitch in pursuit. She almost reached the emergency exit, when a police investigator suddenly blocked her path.

  She increased her speed, reaching him before he had time to raise his pistol. Realising this himself, he attempted to strike her with the weapon, using it as a makeshift baton instead. She slapped the clumsy blow aside and whipped her hand across his temple. The chop sent him reeling to the side as he grunted in pain. In no capacity to reply with a strike of his own, she easily slipped around his body to apply a chokehold, as the thumps of the investigator’s boots drew closer.

  “Stop,” the investigator shouted, as she caught up to them. She had her gun aimed towards Lex.

  She won’t shoot with her colleague between us.

  “Hand over the bag, or I’ll shoot your comrade,” she said.

  The investigator shook her head. “Can’t do that, I’m afraid. Release him now and give yourself up.”

  She could hear hurried footsteps growing closer, as police backup made their way up to their position. The young investigator visibly relaxed at the sound of much-needed back-up. Lex let go of the officer and pressed the barrel of her gun to the base of his skull. “As tempting as that sounds, I think I’ll pass.” She reached inside her overalls and pulled out a flashbang.

  “I won’t ask you again,” the investigator shouted. Lex noted the fear in her voice, coming off her like heat.

  Lex was tempted to put a bullet through both their skulls, but they weren’t the problem she was fighting. She had enough weight resting on her conscience without adding two dead cops to the load. Contrary to her reputation as a psychotic killer, she was happy killing corrupt officials, mercenaries, and members of the Inner-Sanctum, but she drew the line with cops and civilians – if it was in her power to do so. Her hostage and the investigator were just sheep. She needed to strike the shepherd.

  She pulled out the flashbang, flipped the pin, and rolled it towards the investigator.

  “Grenade, get down,” the investigator screamed, diving into the nearest room.

  Lex quickly struck her hostage to the back of the head and ran for the fire escape. She heard the flashbang explode behind her, not looking back, she slipped through the fire escape and descended to the street below.

  XV

  Reid took the stairs two at a time, pushing past anyone in his path. One officer tried to voice his disapproval as Reid sent him crashing roughly into the stairwell railings. He aimed a multitude of profanities at Reid’s back, but the officer’s indignation evaporated as he was given a look of barely contained rage. Realising it was a superior investigator, all aggression left his face as he held up his hands and began a torrent of stuttering apologies. Reid ignored him and continued his ascent towards the carnage being wreaked above.

  The woman had the fucking cheek to come back barely twelve hours after she’d ripped the place to shreds. She must have been in the same room as him, or at least been in close proximity, for god’s sake. He was never going to live this down – himself or his department. How had he allowed the woman to waltz through his crime-scene with impunity? Right under his fucking nose.

  The Proxy was going to blow a gasket when he heard. Any career prospects he’d hoped to achieve in the future were now undoubtedly reduced to piss from this calamitous clusterfuck.

  On the top floor, he was met by police personnel still in a state of shock and disorientation; a few officers ambled aimlessly, holding their ears to rid themselves of the tinnitus, caused by the flash-bang. Hall was kneeling over another officer, tending to a nasty looking graze to his scalp. She looked up as he approached, an expression of frustrati
on and shame etched upon her features.

  “He’ll be alright, sir. I’ve summoned a doctor to examine his head.”

  “Where the fuck did she go?” Reid snapped. He couldn’t care less if the officer’s head was hanging off. They needed that audacious bitch – who was running rings around him – in cuffs or a body bag.

  Hall narrowed her eyes at him. He wasn’t sure whether it was from the flashbang, his sour tone, or the fact the woman had got the better of her. She arched her head towards the fire escape.

  Reid stepped over Hall and the stricken officer and peered down the fire escape.

  This was going to take some explaining.

  ~

  Officer Grant sat within the confines of his police cruiser, his seat back a few notches, sipping a lukewarm latte laced with sugar. He wiped the foam from his upper lip, quite content to listen to the chatter on his radio as his colleagues pursued the woman. He managed to summon enough energy to crane his neck out the window to look up to the floor where she’d been sighted. He pulled his head back in and sighed.

  He knew he should clamber out of his cruiser and make at least some sort of effort to assist his colleagues, but the fact he’d just started his break killed any enthusiasm he might’ve had in doing so; he’d be damned if he was getting out until his thirty minutes of allocated break time was up. He chuckled to himself – you had to draw the line somewhere.

  Unfortunately for Grant, the decision was taken out of his hands. Lex pulled the door open and hauled him out. The cap from his coffee cup popped off as he landed face-first onto the sidewalk; its contents spilling out from its receptacle.

  He watched, in stunned silence, as his cruiser sped away from him.

  ~

  Lex kicked the cruiser up through the gears as she careened it around a bend in the road. The corner was sharper than she’d anticipated as she struggled to keep in under control. The tyres screeched as they slid across the tarmac in a blaze of smoke. A truck veered out of her way, horn blaring, as it swerved out of her path, colliding with a taxi cab. The five-foot grille on the truck’s front bulldozed into the side of the smaller vehicle, hurtling it into a row of refuse bins, its windows exploding outward from the terrible impact.

  She kept the radio on, listening in to any updates from the authorities in pursuit. She had a small head start as police cruisers were fitted with tracking devices; all units in the vicinity would be ordered to descend on her position like locust. She needed to find a suitable spot to dump the police unit before she stood any chance of evading capture – she wouldn’t last the night in one of their cells.

  The Inner-Sanctum would see to that.

  She quickly manoeuvred her ride in and out of lanes, glancing at the rear-view monitor on the dash to see if she had company.

  She had.

  Fuck.

  Two cruisers followed closely behind finding no trouble keeping up with her speed or her erratic attempts to shake them off or force them to stop – they had an obligation to prevent accidents and/or injury, she didn’t.

  Their lights flashed, painting the street in blue and red as they swerved and weaved with frustrating expertise. She wasn’t losing them anytime soon. She needed to think of something, and fast.

  She jabbed at the navigation system to load up the route map. It bleeped a few times then informed her she had been locked out. No help there then.

  Fuck!

  “This is the SPD, stop the vehicle at once,” an electronic voice demanded from one of the cruisers hot on her heels.

  No shit!

  She drifted across either side of the road, trying anything to shake them off. She smashed the rear bumper of a nearby cruiser sending it into a spin towards her pursuers, but they split up, veering around the presumably confused bystander. One of them had to slow down to avoid a public transport shuttle that suddenly appeared from a cross-section in the road. The other had seen the move and adjusted accordingly. Soon they were side by side once more.

  She leaned forward to see if there were any Zeps above. She grimaced at the giant floating monstrosity directly above her position, her chances of escape growing ever bleaker.

  Need to find a way out of this mess.

  She knew she was driving through the financial district. The problem was she didn’t know where exactly, or which direction she was travelling in. She sought out anything that could aid in finding out where she was; a landmark; a sign; anything. But all she saw was lights within shops and the blurred images of citizens and mechanoids – the former gazing in slack-jawed surprise at being witness to a police chase, if only for a few fleeting moments.

  It was then, between a gap in one of the buildings on her right-hand side, she caught a glimpse of trees and grass; the Metropark. She was travelling north, heading for the centre of the city, towards the Freedom Bridge which sat twenty feet above the river that ran through the Metropark. A plan began to form in her mind. It was risky, but it was all she had – in the end, anything was better than capture.

  The road opened up; going from two lanes to four as she entered the bridge. She looked to the monitor. Her pursuers hadn’t lost ground on her – if anything they’d closed the gap and tripled in number.

  A flashing convoy just for me.

  About half a mile ahead, she noticed the traffic was considerably thicker. She pressed the foot down hard on the pedal, the cruiser immediately picking up speed. She flicked the cruiser onto auto-drive and unbuckled her seatbelt.

  The auto-drive began to blare a warning telling her there were stationary objects at close proximity. It informed her it was going to reduce the speed of the cruiser. She tapped the override button, then closed its advisory assistance system. It continued its incessant whining, but she ignored it.

  She drew her handgun and shot the windscreen several times. The bullets punched through the glass, but the windscreen didn’t break. She held onto the handle above her door and began to kick at the windscreen. After a few well-aimed strikes with her foot, it creaked inward, before finally giving up its structural integrity. The cab was showered with glass as she clambered through the empty frame and onto the bonnet.

  The air whipped at her face. She squinted, struggling to keep her eyes open. She was growing steadily closer to the queue of traffic, she hoped she’d timed this right. As much as she didn’t care for bystanders in her escape, she drew the line at actively using their sacrifice for her own ends – or so she told herself.

  A lot of people will get hurt if you fuck this up.

  She let go of the bonnet and slowly rose to her feet. She found that standing on a speeding cruiser, whilst balanced precariously on its nose, sent an unbelievable jolt of adrenaline through her entire body; the electricity fuelling her intent.

  Once she felt as steady as she was ever going to be, she unholstered her gun, took aim and shot at the police cruisers. It had the desired effect. Sparks flew from the police units as her bullets ricocheted off their bodies. Their tyres screamed; the aggression of brakes being hammered on sent their rear-ends spinning from side to side; their drivers struggling for control.

  It was the distraction she wanted.

  Without giving it a second thought, she reached inside the cab and tugged at the steering wheel sending the cruiser sharply to the right, towards the railing. The cruiser easily burst through metal sending her over the edge. She jumped off the cruiser and braced herself for landing.

  She felt as though she hung in mid-air for an extraordinarily long time before she plunged beneath the ice-cold sanctuary of the river.

  And hopefully, escape.

  XVI

  “Good evening, Sanctum-One. Further chaos has engulfed the city, today, as police made attempts to apprehend a suspect in the Trammel terror attack. However, before an arrest could be made, the assailant managed to hijack a police cruiser and was subsequently chased through the streets of the financial district, by the SPD, causing thousands of credits worth of damage.

  The pursuit was so
on cut short when the suspect lost control of the vehicle and drove it off the Freedom Bridge into the river. Forensic crews are currently dredging the river as we speak in order to find the police unit and its erstwhile occupant.

  At the scene is Hanna Ves. Hanna, do we have any updates on proceedings?”

  “Good evening, Hanna Ves reporting live from the Freedom Bridge. As of yet, there has been no sign of the cruiser, or the suspect. The authorities are working tirelessly to recover the wreckage, and hopefully, the suspect.”