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[LUKA]
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Luka gazed out the window as Wyatt navigated the car through the dimly lit streets of Riverside. The neon signs of seedy bars and rundown shops cast a gaudy glow on the wet pavement.
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"So, you think you still know this city?" Luka asked, her voice laced with curiosity.
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Wyatt's eyes scanned the streets, taking in the familiar sights. "Most of it, yeah. I've been gone a while, but some things never change."
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Luka nodded, her eyes returning to the road ahead. "Riverside's always been a rough area. Never had much reason to come here before."
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"You've never been assigned a case here?"
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"Never. I hear only certain types of guys make the cut for these parts. "
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"Yeah?" Wyatt's gaze lingered on a group of shady-looking characters loitering on the corner. "Not your typical tourist spot I'll tell you that." He made a left turn. "What about the Chen case? Any new leads?"
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Luka's expression turned serious. "We've got some possibles. Witnesses reported a suspicious person near the scene, but nothing concrete yet. Word on the street is that Trolley Chen is offering a hefty reward for information leading to the killer's identity and whereabouts."
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Wyatt's jaw clenched. "I know. With Chen's nephew being the victim, they're gonna want blood."
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Luka's eyes narrowed. "You think it's gang-related?"
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He hesitated. "On the face of it? I'd say yeah. But from my experience, no one makes a move like that without the backing of someone really high up. But there's too much at stake to say without more evidence you know?" He clenched the steering wheel tighter. "Especially considering how much Riverside has changed from back in the day. We lost too many good people to let it slip back into those dark times."
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Luka briefly glanced at Wyatt's stern expression and immediately knew not to inquire any further.
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"Despite the authority and sway he may have, Chen's still got a lot of enemies." He took a deep breath and sighed, perhaps sensing the mood. "We'll need to watch our step around these parts. These guys don't play by the same rules we do."
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As they drove deeper into Riverside, the shadows seemed to grow longer, and the air thickened with tension. Luka's phone buzzed, breaking the silence. She answered, listening intently before responding, "Alright, get me the footage. I'll review it as soon as I can."
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Wyatt raised an eyebrow. "Something new?"
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She nodded. "Possible surveillance footage near the crime scene. Might be our suspect."
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Wyatt's eyes locked onto the road ahead, his focus sharpening. "Let's get to work."
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[MARCUS]
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The station was a hive of activity, with passengers rushing to catch their trains, vendors hawking their wares, and the sound of train whistles piercing the air. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the crowded concourse, mingling with the scent of diesel fuel and grease. Newspaper stands lined the walls, their headlines shouting out the latest news in bold print. Something about some new discovery in the desert and the civil unrest down south. Long lines snaked in front of the ticket counters, with people patiently waiting to purchase their tickets.
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Meanwhile, military personnel moved with purpose, their uniforms a stark contrast to the more casual attire of the passengers. They barked orders at each other, their voices carrying above the din of the station. The sound of crates being loaded onto the train's cargo cars echoed through the station, punctuated by the clang of metal on metal.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfzMG5tUOjd
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Marcus navigated through the bustling train station, his eyes scanning the platforms for the steam engine train that would take Tondo south across the desert to La Olorica. The memory of Del Piero's words echoed in his mind. Tondo was likely to board this train to escape the bounty placed on his head by Trolley Chen.
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As Marcus approached the train, he noticed a group of military personnel loading crates of equipment onto the adjacent cars. He slowed his pace, trying to blend in with the crowd while keeping a watchful eye on the workers.
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He spotted the steam engine, its massive wheels and copper pipes gleaming in the light. He knew he had to act quickly. With a casual air, he edged closer to the engine room, his mind racing with the plan.
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As he reached for the door handle, a worker turned, his gaze narrowing. He froze, holding his breath as the worker's eyes swept over him. For a tense moment, their gazes locked, and Marcus prepared for the worst. But the worker seemed to dismiss him as a mere bystander and returned to his task.
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To gain entry to the engine room, he had to carefully pry open the door. He examined the lock closely, determining that it was a standard lever lock. He pulled out a set of lockpick tools from his pocket and began to work on the lock. Though faint, sound of the lock's mechanism clicking into place was music to his ears as he carefully turned the handle and pushed the door open.
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Exhaling slowly, Marcus slipped into the engine room, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. He quickly put away the tools and set to work. The room was a maze of pipes, valves, and gauges. The air was thick with the smell of coal smoke and grease. The sound of hissing steam and clanking metal filled the air, creating a cacophony of noise. The engine room was dominated by the massive steam engine, the room still warm and stuffy from its countless journeys, its copper pipes gleaming in the dim light. Gauges and valves were scattered throughout the room, monitoring the engine's performance. A large control panel on the wall displayed the train's speed, pressure, and other vital signs.
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Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead, slowly running down across his face as he worked. He kept a watchful eye on the door, his senses on high alert for anyone who might be unfortunate to return at that moment.
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He suddenly heard voices outside approaching the door. He froze, quickly collecting his tools and backing away to the side of the door where he would not be visible.
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"Man, I'm counting down the minutes till our shift ends," one of the workers said. "I'm ready to grab a drink and forget about this place for a while."
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"Same here," the other replied. "I've got a tab open at the usual spot. You're buying, right?"
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"Didn't I get it the last time?"
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Marcus composed himself as he slowly pulled out his gun and began to place a suppressor on it, ready to do what needed to be done.
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"Did you check the engine room?"
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"That's Paul's jurisdiction, he's on engine duty this week remember?"
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"I hope he makes sure everything's ready for the next crew," one of the workers said. "Remember the last time you were on engine duty?"
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The other worker laughed. "I remember, the supervisor almost chewed my head off."
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The door handle turned, and the door slightly opened. Marcus swiftly took aim at where the head might emerge from behind the door, holding steady.
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"Why's the door unlocked?" one of the workers asked. "Paul's usually on top of this stuff."
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"Probably forgot to lock it." The other replied.
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"Please, he's not a lazy bum like yourself."
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"First time for everything I guess."
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"No, he's usually pretty reliable." He briefly scanned the room ahead of him and took a step forward.
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Marcus slowly pulled back the hammer.
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"Come on, Paul will sort this out. I sure he's already on his way. You really want more work on your plate?"
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He turned and walked back out the room, closing the door behind him. The the voices continued. "Radio Paul and get him to sort this out ASAP."
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"Sure thing. Wait, I think I left my radio in the office."
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"Really? This is why you're always getting in trouble with the higher ups."
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"Hey! Ease up on the criticism, okay? Not my fault they have it out for me. I must have left it on the desk during our lunch break."
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"Better pray that its still there. Its a wonder why you still got a job here."
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The other worker chuckled. "My friend, you work too hard. One day, it'll kill ya."
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The voices grew distant as they walked off. Marcus took a moment and peeked through the open space on the door to verify their departure. Satisfied, he returned to completing his task, this time with an extra hint urgency.
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[CHARLES]
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Charles stood across the road from the casino, its bright lights illuminating the evening sky like a beacon, oblivious to the recent homicide that had taken place within its walls. The pedestrian traffic flowed around him and the evening delights slowly unveiled. People went on about their business with a sense of normalcy that seemed almost jarring given the circumstances prior. A cue that the world does keep on spinning.
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The sound of laughter and music drifted from the casino, mingling with the hum of the city. Charles's eyes were fixed on a vendor stand on the sidewalk that he identified as belonged to Vinny Goma, his client, who was currently being detained in connection to the murder pending his trial date.
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Charles murmured in frustration, "Where's Sam when I need him?"
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His investigator had once more been unavailable to visit the scene and investigate the stand, forcing Charles to make the trip over himself. He recalled what Vinny had told him about the number he had received from the stranger, written on a piece of paper. This is where it all started. The paper had the number that had implicated Vinny in the murder. If he could just get a hold of it, he might be able to use it as leverage in his case. Vinny had been quite adamant that he had hidden the paper in a safe place, and Charles hoped that it was still there.
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He glanced around for a moment, then bent down and reached underneath the lining of the edge of the stand, feeling around for the spare key Vinny told him was hidden there. His fingers probed the tight space occasionally wincing at the bruising caused to his fingers by the sharp edges. After a while, he began to lose hope and doubt what Vinny had told him about the key. Just as he was about to give up, his fingers brushed against something hard with a defined shape. Excitedly, he struggled to pull it out, his fingers straining against the tight space. Finally, the key emerged, old and coated in a layer of rust, clearly from the long periods of exposure to the elements. Charles stared at it for a moment, letting out a huge sigh of relief.
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He got up, dusted himself off, and proceeded to attempt to and open the door to the stand. He briefly struggled to insert the key which didn't turn easily. He gently jiggled the key back and forth for a while, slowly applying pressure towards turning the handle and it suddenly broke off.
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He threw his head back in frustration and began cursing into the evening sky while pedestrians turned their heads in shock at the sudden outburst. Noticing the attention he was drawing, he quickly composed himself and tried to act normal.
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After the attention died down. He thought for a moment of what Sam would do in this situation. Drastic measures were now required. He took off his scarf and wrapped it around his elbow then proceeded to nonchalantly lean on the stand and swung his elbow towards the glass, breaking off some pieces.
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Despite the scarf cushioning most of the impact, he felt a sharp pain run through his arm and groaned in discomfort. Reaching into the stand through the gap with a few moments of struggle, he finally managed to turn the knob from the inside and the door creaked open. Exhausted, Charles pushed the door open, and a faint scent of spoiled food, spice and cheap cologne wafted out.
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As the door swung open, Charles felt a sense of accomplishment. He had taken the first step in investigating the stand and potentially uncovering evidence that could help Vinny's case. Now, he just needed to search the stand thoroughly and find that piece of paper. He stepped inside, his eyes adjusting to the dim light, and began to search the stand from top to bottom.
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[Marcus]
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With his task complete, Marcus exited the engine room, his senses on high alert. As he walked away, he noticed the same worker who had spotted him earlier, now walking towards the engine room. Must have been the Paul fellow he overheard the workers talking about. They both froze for a moment, their gaze briefly locked onto each other, and Marcus's instincts kicked in. He turned and began walking in the opposite direction, his heart rate accelerating. He took a quick glance back and the worker's gaze remained fixed on him, a growing sense of unease evident in his expression. The worker quickly pulled out his radio and spoke into it, his voice low and urgent.
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Marcus noticed the worker's actions and knew he had to move fast. He picked up his pace, weaving through the crowd of passengers and vendors. The worker's radio call had been brief, but Marcus knew it wouldn't take long for the authorities to respond.
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Suddenly, a group of military personnel, clad in tactical gear and armed with rifles, emerged from the adjacent platform, their eyes scanning the crowd. The worker went over to them, briefly exchanged words and pointed in his direction, and they quickly gave chase.
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Marcus dodged and weaved through the crowd, his pursuers closely closing in. He could see more military personnel approaching from the front, their faces set in determined expressions.
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As he turned a corner, and realized he was almost cornered. They were right on him from both sides, their movements swift and coordinated. With a surge of adrenaline, Marcus reached into his pocket and triggered the explosive device he had planted in the engine room.
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The explosion was massive, sending shockwaves through the station. The sound of shattering glass and screams filled the air as passengers and bystanders scrambled for cover. The blast ripped through the train, causing the steam engine to erupt in a plume of flame and smoke.
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He took advantage of the commotion, blending into the crowd as people ran wildly in all directions and slipped past the military personnel, who were momentarily stunned by the explosion. As he merged with the fleeing crowd, he vanished into the chaos, leaving his pursuers to deal with the aftermath of the blast.
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Now the real work had begun.
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[CHARLES]
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"Okay buddy, put your hands up." A deep voice order.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRACLo83vCE
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Charles heard the voice from behind him as he was rummaging through the contents of the stand and froze. He turned to see who it was and was faced with a bright flashlight shone onto his face.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuf3XGCgrcY
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"I said hands up!"9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgaJiv3DtlR
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"Okay! Okay! They're up!" He slowly raised his hands and began backing up out the doorway. "I think there's been a big misunderstanding..." He started. Trying not to make any sudden movements. 9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbRQ5YcPalj
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Once out, he felt a pair of hands frisk him with his back still turned away from the source of the light.
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"A misunderstanding?" The voice remarked.
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"I'm a lawyer, just following up on case I'm working on for my client. This is his stand, he sent me here."
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"Really? A lawyer?"
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"Yes. I can show you my bar membership card, its inside my wallet."
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The pair of hands once more reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. There was a moment of silence, which he could only assume was them verifying his identity.
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"Mr. Charles......Chance?"
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"That's me."
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The pair of hands motioned him to turn and face the two officer that were clad in uniform, once more blinding him with the bright light shone onto his face from flashlight.
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"Well Mr. Chance, we received a report of an individual attempting to beak into a facility." He briefly glanced at the broken glass and Charles's bruised hand. "You'll have to come with us to the station and file a report to clear up the...misunderstanding."
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"I understand."
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Suddenly the ground shook beneath their feet, a gentle tremor that grew in intensity as the shockwave from a distant explosion rippled through the earth. The vibrations were subtle at first, but soon became more pronounced, causing objects on nearby surfaces to rattle and shift. The sound of the explosion itself was muffled by the distance, but the physical sensation of the blast was unmistakable.
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"Holy shi-"
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They all looked up, the night sky was illuminated by a brillant flash of light, casting an otherworldly glow over the landscape.
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The combination of the ground shaking and the sky lighting up was both mesmerizing and unsettling. As the light began to fade, the sound of the blast finally reached them, a deep rumble that lingered in the air for a few seconds before dissipating into the night. The aftermath of the explosion was eerily quiet, with only the distant sounds of sirens and shouting voices breaking the silence.
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