Alex stomped on the accelerator, and the electric motors were whining. The noise of a combustion engine was pumped into the vehicle through the speakers to give the illusion us being in a car from an age long past. I watched as the street lamps turned from match sticks standing tall to a wall made of blur, and we were passing cars like they were standing still.

  I was slammed into James, my coffee spilling everywhere, as Alex jinked left to avoid a car. The sound of metal on concrete overrode the noise of the engine, and sparks erupted from the left side. My eyes met James'. He looked terrified.

  “Damn, Alex, where'd you learn to drive like this?”, Max asked, knuckles white from gripping anything to keep from slamming around the SUV as we rocketed after Tycho.

  “The Academy, you know”, Alex joked, jinking right and narrowly squeezing between two cars on the freeway.

  We were finally behind Tycho's sports car again.

  “Alright, stay right there, Tycho”, Alex said to himself.

  Alex turned on the brights, trying to blind Tycho. The next thing I saw was the headrest rapidly approaching my face, with only the seatbelt stopping me from slamming into Alex's seat.

  “Son of a bitch!”, I said reflexively.

  “Apologies, he brake checked me”, Alex replied.

  Tycho had sped off, and took an exit lane at the last second. Alex accelerated and took a hard right. The SUV clipped one of the water barriers, and I heard something fall off the vehicle. I turned and saw our rear bumper sliding on the road, quickly turning into the detritus , and coming to a stop next to a blown out tire.

  Tycho took a hard left on the first intersection, drifting around the corner, with us hot in pursuit. The sound of our tires shrieking filled the empty city streets. We were in a business district, the office workers long since gone. The city's streetlights and the advertisements on the buildings were turned into sheets of lights on either side of our SUV.

  Tycho took another hard right, taking us underneath an L train, adding a rhythmic sound to the car as we passed the support struts. My heart was racing. My breaths were short and shallow. I dearly begged anything listening that Alex could prevent anyone facing the same fate I had.

  Tycho cut into an alley in desperation to lose us, but Alex proved to be just as reactive, making the same turn. Our SUV proved to be less dexterous than a sports car, and we oversteered, causing the rear quarter panel to slam into a dumpster. We stopped turning, which was nice, but we left a solid smear of black paint on the dumpster. That and the potential of us cracking the axle. I drank whatever was left in my coffee cup to calm down, as I was near to a panic attack.

  We cut block after block through the alleyway. Tycho hit some trash cans, causing them to fly over his car, and hit our windshield. Luckily they didn't shatter.

  Tycho swerved right, trying to cut back into the street, but the stress of driving caused the front left tire to explode. The car understeered, and without any tire, the rim sent sparks flying as it ground itself against the pavement. His car hit the corner of the building, causing it to spin into the next alley, and smash again into the brick building.

  We pulled up behind him, with Alex slamming on the breaks in an attempt to prevent us from crushing his car and hurting ourselves. We saw Tycho open the passenger side door and crawl out as we came to a halt. Tycho picked himself up, and started to run down the alley.

  We all got out of the vehicle and began to chase down Tycho. We followed him through this alley, and down the next. I could hear him choking down air as he sprinted, and yet, I felt I was breathing harder. My legs were burning already. It felt surreal to know I was enhanced so much, and yet, with less than a week off the hospital bed, I felt so weak. My legs were jelly.

  Tycho took a door on the left, ripping open the door, and throwing himself inside. I was the first one through the door, and into the stock room for a pizza joint. I chased Tycho through the kitchen, and into the dining room. During the commotion, Tycho ran into a waiter, who spilled an entire pizza down Tycho's front. The waiter screamed as Tycho pushed him out of the way, and as I ran through, several patrons began shouting.

  Tycho flung the front door off the place open and spun around as he passed through the threshold. In his hands was a pistol, and he was aiming at me. I saw the the flashes as he squeezed out two shots.

  CR-CRACK!!

  The shots rang out, followed by a dull “plink”. Two notifications shot into view in rapid succession.

  Before Tycho could turn back around to run, I was on him. I spear tackled him, and he folded instantly. Tycho landed on his back, and his head bounced on the road. He screamed in pain, and he tried to put the pistol in the space between the plates. I quickly grabbed his wrist with my right hand and squeezed as hard as I could. Tycho screamed again and the pistol clattered to the ground.

  “Fuck, I give up, man! I give up! What is this about? Christ! All this over some speeding?”, Tycho pleaded at me.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Tycho was laying there, covered in sauce, and flecked with melted cheese. I got Tycho onto his stomach, and with the assistance of the others, I got him cuffed. I got up and dusted myself off. I wiped the sweat from my forehead, the winter air biting at me. We all took a few seconds to catch our breath.

  Max was the first to speak.

  “Tycho, OCP asked us to take you and go for a ride.”

  A growing horror was growing in Tycho's eyes. A horror of understanding the situation.

  “Oh fuck no no no no. This can't be for not wanting to move shit for OCP. It's not a crime to not wanting to source stolen cybernetics!”

  Tycho continued on, as I turned and saw the restaurant. All the patrons were at the windows, watching us, some recording. James and Max got Tycho to his feet, and dusted him off. As we started dragging him back to our SUV, I took one last look at the Pizza shop, and saw the wait staff all looked like famous actor, Stephen Bushemmi. The sign read PBB: Pizza by Bushemmi. It unsettled me a bit.

  We turned the corner, and got back to the SUV. Tycho turned his head and looked down the alley, and to his car.

  “Man, fuck y'all. I loved that car.”

  We got him into the car, sat between James and I, and strapped him in. Alex turned the SUV on, while Max called dispatch.

  “Daniels, we got Tycho. We'll bring him in.”

  “Since you got him, the suits wanted you to see if you can't get any information on why he stopped working for us.”

  We asked the cuffed man and he tried to play it tough. With a little coercion in the form of a couple smacks upside the head. He let us know that his place up in Glencoe had the details of an upcoming deal with a group. He was supposed to make sure a shipment coming through the port soon wouldn’t get too much of a prying eye on it. He was just supposed to get it through customs, and leave it at a drop it off point in an abandoned warehouse, just south of the city. He said the other party didn’t reveal much else than that.

  “See this is why I don’t do shit for OCP anymore. You get too much into people’s business. Shit you probably know that better than anyone. They ripped y’all up and stitched you back together. I-“

  Another smack to the back of the head from James shut him up.

  We shot the information to Daniels, and headed up to Glencoe to see what information we could get. There was a team there waiting for us to assist in the search. The search itself just ended up with 4 phones, and a computer, all with information on the deal. There were a couple kilos of coke but OCP didn't really care. The other team left as soon as Tycho confirmed the information.

  “There, you fuckers. Are you happy? Are you going to finally let me fucking go? Y'all can't really have a reason to take me in, can you?”, Tycho said, protesting his continued detainment.

  Tycho continued on, and a notification popped up into view.

  In the excitement, I had forgotten the second half of the job we had. The four of us exchanged glanced. We all got the order. We all contemplated not doing it. I at least hoped so. Only Daniels probably knows that answer, after all, the company records everything.

  Alex threw a punch to Tycho's gut, causing him to double over.

  “Christ, don't tell me you're going to fucking kill me!”, Tycho said in desperation.

  The rest of us joined in. I let go. Tycho went from protesting, to begging, to accepting, to crying, to letting go. At the end, he was a bruised, bleeding mess.

  We returned to the SUV in silence. Alex started the SUV and began driving back to the Omni-Corp Pharmaceuticals HQ. Nobody talked. I was just thinking about what we had just done. It ran through my mind again and again and again.

  What a fucking mess.

  We got back to the office at about 01:00, and Daniels met us in the garage. We handed off the electronics, and scheduled a wrecker to get Tycho's wreck to the impound lot. We swapped SUV's out, and went back out to just patrol.

  Soon enough, the clock struck 6, we got off shift. I packed my gear away, got into my street clothes, and left. I got to an L station, and grabbed a train home. I could imagine a few ways a first day on the job could go worse, but at least, the only damage was to my armor. The trip home was too long, and for too long I was left with my thoughts.

  I soon was at my stop, and I finally dragged myself home. I climbed the steps of my parent's house, and got through the door. Miss Seuse practically jumped into my arms, screaming bloody murder. In the kitchen I heard my mother cooking. I smelled bacon.

  “Valencia, you're home! I made breakfast. Come, sit and eat.”, she said, turning to look at me. “I'll make you a plate.”

  I poured myself a glass of coffee, and sat at the table.

  “Sooo, tell me about your day. How was it?” She asked, setting down my plate.

  “It was... quiet”, I responded, taking a bite of a pancake.