Trip of a Century

Part 1 Chapter 1

The Twins

“I should really be going, love.” Aiden said in his west Ireland accent as he rolled out of the brass-framed, queen-sized bed. It was high off the floor so he had to scoot a little across the pink silk sheets to get his short legs to reach the plush, white carpet that covered the floor. He paused to let his toes sink in. He missed the feeling of expensive carpet on his bare feet. Hadn’t had any since he and Gain had left their parents’ home in Ireland (not the corporate part, but the Tuatha dé Dannan¹) nine months ago to see North America². The place they had wasn’t bad but it definitely wasn’t like home, or here in Linda’s room. Her, probably custom-made, hardwood furniture was painted pink and white and had random stickers all over, some partially peeled, ranging from smiley faces to band name bumper stickers. The ceiling fan was Hello Kitty but it looked custom-made. The most impressive part was probably her closet. It was as big as the living room in his apartment (and much cleaner).

Aiden heard Linda roll over and with a pouty moan, she said with her midwestern accent “Hey, what are you doing? Stay.” He turned to her as he began buttoning his shirt. The white LED lights from her ceiling fan shone on her long, pale leg that rested on top of the pink sheet that loosely draped over her lower back and was bunched up loosely in front of her chest. Her lips were in a pout but her brown eyes, partially covered by a lock of her tousled curly brown hair, belied that, expressing mischievous intentions. “I’m cold,” she said as she reached out and ran her hand up and over Aiden’s firm stomach and hooked her fingers in his curly chest hair. “Come keep me warm.” 

Aiden gently grabbed her wrist. He was sorely tempted to climb back in but instead he kissed her hand and said, “That’d be lovely but..I…you know…your dad…what he’d do if…” he was interrupted by the door handle rattling and three loud bangs on her door. His green eyes went wide and he turned away from Linda and shoved his feet into his black combat boots, which immediately and automatically tightened snugly to his feet and legs. A booming male voice, accompanied by more door-rattling pounding, shouted on the other side of the door, “I know you’re in there! I’m gonna feed your balls to my dogs!”

“Oh shit, shit, shit, shit,” Linda said frantically, leaning over the side of the bed and reaching down for Aiden’s things. Aiden didn’t doubt for a moment that Douglas Randell would do just what he said if he caught him. He grabbed his tan duster in one arm, grabbed Linda and pulled her in for a quick kiss, then he lifted open the pink-framed window next to the bed. Just as the window raised, splintered wood flew from the door frame as it burst open. He turned his head to see the wooden door hung crooked from one hinge as a large, fit, red-faced man stepped into the room, breathing heavily as beads of sweat dripped down from his cropped hair to his clean-shaven chin. The sleeves of his white, button-down shirt were rolled up, showcasing his muscular forearms and a Cincinnati Reds tattoo. He paused, wide-eyed and snarling, for a moment to take in the sight of his daughter; naked ass in the air, bare chest and messy hair hanging off the side of the bed, her head turned quickly to look at him, eyes wide with surprise. “Hi, Daddy,” she squeaked. 

His eyes followed her stretched out arm that was holding a tan cowboy hat. Douglas’ eyes snapped to the dwarf in the window with tousled brown hair and their eyes met. He pointed a finger at Aiden and spittle flew out of his mouth as he screamed, “I’ll fucking kill you, you grimy Irish squash!” Again, Aiden didn’t doubt that given the man’s position of power and history of violence. Knowing the ground would hurt a lot less than whatever Douglas had in store for him, and hoping he could jump far enough to reach the cherry tree outside her room, he threw his duster and leaped out of the second story window and reached for the branches, his white shirt flapping in the wind.

Being tall and long-limbed would have been nice in this moment, but at five feet tall with dense bones and muscle, and short legs, Aiden was the opposite of what makes a great jumper. As he fell through the air, Aiden stretched for the tree as best he could. Pale pink flower petals tore off in his hands. He managed to grip enough for some branches to swing down with him but it wasn’t enough. What he managed to grab, ripped and broke and he landed hard on his back. Thankfully the grass was thick and the ground was relatively soft. Wind knocked out of him and scraped hands burning, he gasped for air. His eyes made contact with those of Linda’s father again as he glowered at Aiden out of her window. Douglas Randell then turned and disappeared inside, shouting something that Aiden couldn’t understand as he rolled over to get up and grabbed his duster. He scrambled to his feet, suddenly regretting not bringing his guns with him, and he quickly pulled his duster on. He always carried his guns but Linda didn’t like guns so he left them at home this time. Well his two favorites anyway. Another was with his motorcycle.

“Aiden.” He looked up and saw Linda with his hat. She tossed it down to him. He caught it and tipped the hat to her. She did a happy little hop that made it harder for Aiden to look away but he tore his eyes away as he heard dogs barking from the other end of the walled yard. He’d forgotten about Douglas’ prized pair of rottweilers. He swore as he started running toward a corner of the wall that was occupied by a huge black planting pot with a 7-foot-tall red pine bonsai tree in it. He didn’t look back but he could hear the thumping of dog paws hitting the sod. They were gaining on him fast. He leaped and pulled his broad-shouldered body over the edge of the 4-foot-tall pot just as the two snarling, mobile bear traps slammed into the pot and he felt jaws closing around his trailing right boot. He grabbed the tree and braced his left boot against the lip of the pot as the snarling beast started shaking its head. Aiden felt like it was going to rip his foot off. Thankfully, being a Runner ³ he had the foresight (or paranoia) to have paid the extra creds for armored boots and so-called “stab proof” clothes. He swore again as the other dog clamped onto his pants leg. He strained just to hold himself up as the two thrashing canines tried to yank him off the pot to where they could reach the rest of him.

The bang of a gunshot rang out and the pot exploded between his legs. He heard the dogs yelp and they released their hold on him. His foot lost its hold on the pot but his grip on the tree was good. Dirt spilled from the pot onto the dogs as his boots found purchase in the packed soil. He risked a quick look behind him as he pulled himself up. He saw Douglas swear as he opened an old single shot shotgun to reload it and reached into his pants pocket. “Thank The Dagda he didn’t grab a modern weapon”, Aiden thought as he turned back to getting over the wall. He found footholds for his feet, jumped up (he was doing far too much of that lately) and scrambled like a scared cat as he used the tree to help him clamber up the last six feet of concrete wall. He caught a glimpse of one of the rottweilers trying to climb up the dirt but it was just pulling more dirt down on itself. He couldn’t see the other but he heard it whining. 

As he crested the wall he heard several shouts and the night exploded with gunfire as bullets shattered concrete below him, whizzed by above him, and the wind was knocked out of him once again as he felt an impact to his left ribs. He rolled with it and fell off the top of the ten-foot-tall wall. A manicured hedgerow broke his fall half way and he rolled out and onto the sidewalk under the yellow light of a streetlamp near the corner of East Cullerton Street and Indiana Avenue. Sinopec Group had bought the entire block between Indiana Ave. and S Prairie Avenue, built a wall around it, and put a 4 story mansion inside as an incentive for filling Randell’s position.

Aiden put his hand on his ribs to see how bad it was and was relieved to find no blood. “Must’ve been a small one,” he thought. Deep breaths still hurt, though. He was going to have a big bruise. Aiden swore as he stood up and realized his motorcycle was on the other side of the block. He tapped his watch and said, “Hey, Google. Bring my bike to me.” As it replied back, “Okay. Your bike will arrive at your location in less than two minutes.” He heard a shout from the east and he looked to see the silhouette of someone standing under a streetlight and pointing at him. “Shit,” he said as he started sprinting south. He could hear more voices shout behind him as he ran away. As he approached East 21st Street a black SUV screeched to a stop at the corner and the doors opened. He didn’t wait to see who belonged to the shadows getting out and he crossed Indiana Ave as fast as he could, hoping that they at least wouldn’t shoot at him in public. The other side of the street was dominated by an 8 story concrete parking ramp attached to a 40-story glass building on the north side of the block. 

Gain Caswall walked across the parking lot of Wang’s Asian Market and tossed his grocery bag on the seat of his rusty, silver pickup truck. The glass bottles of Tsingtao beer and his bottle of rice vinegar tinked as they knocked up against his pneumatic launcher—a device of his own invention that resembled a complicated combination of a large-barreled musket and a Super Soaker from the 1990s. He stepped into the truck, closed the door, and pushed the button to start the vehicle. Its electric engine hummed to life, headlights turned on, phone synced, and the speakers started blasting heavy metal music. He put it into drive and pulled out onto S Archer Ave, tapping his steering wheel and nodding his head of shaggy brown hair to the beat.

As he headed southwest, his music was interrupted by a beep and a robotic voice. “Alert. Aiden is running again.” Gain hissed, “Ah shite. What’d you do now, Aiden? Hal, music off.” His truck’s speakers replied with a beep and the music ended. “Hal, where is Aiden’s phone?” The robotic voice replied, “Aiden’s phone is at 2031 S Indiana Avenue. And is moving at about 14 kilometers per hour, northwest toward the corner of Indiana avenue and East Cullerton Street. Would you like navigation?” That location sounded familiar. “Yes,” Gain replied. The truck’s speakers beeped and the dash screen displayed a satellite map. “Fuck! Hal, is that the residence of Douglas Randell,” Gain shouted as he made a hard U-turn. He was almost t-boned from vehicles in both directions as horns blared and tires squealed from his truck and two other vehicles. “Douglas Oswin Randell of Pfizer Corporation resides at 2031 S Indiana Ave, Chicago, Illinois, Sinopec Group.”

Gain began muttering obscenities as he put the pedal to the floor, accelerating far beyond the posted speed limit and laying on his horn as he blasted through an intersection and drove up onto the sidewalk to get around two cars blocking his way. His blue eyes darted around looking for obstacles while he imagined what he was about to drag himself into. He glanced over at his unloaded pneumatic launcher and then, with his eyes on the road, reached into the grocery bag and pulled out a glass bottle.

Aiden could hear the thumping and scraping of shoes on pavement as Randell’s runners gave chase. He knew he wouldn’t be able to outrun them. Lata-Brevis⁵ were known for their endurance but definitely not for their speed, being about 30% slower on average than their taller, long-legged cousins. He crossed the 4-lane road and he quickly considered his options as he reached the sidewalk on the other side and his watch chimed, “Your location has changed. Reassessing route.” If he went north or south, he would quickly be intercepted by goons so he ran down into the dimly lit parking ramp, his pursuers not far behind. He took a quick left and ducked behind some cars, continuing to move west toward the other side of the garage. Two of Randell’s goons entered the garage and stopped a moment to look and listen. A skinny man wearing denim pants and a leather jacket said, “He went that way,” and pointed toward where Aiden was trying to maneuver quietly between parked cars. Aiden thought, “What is that accent?”

“You got nowhere to go, prick,” the skinny man jeered. “Come on out.” They didn’t seem to be in a hurry as they moved his direction. “Where are the others,” he thought as he made his way toward the west entrance. His question was answered when he saw two shadowy figures run into the garage from the west side and an SUV pull up to block it. He really had nowhere to go. 

His watch chimed at him, “Your bike has arrived.” Aiden sighed and stood up with his hands up. “Hey, there’s the squash,” the skinny man said, gesturing both hands toward Aiden as if to invite him for a hug. Aiden could see his holstered gun under the black leather jacket. The man with him was considerably larger, with a shaved head, and wore a blue tracksuit. The other two, a gray-skinned dum-dente⁶ with a shaved head and ripped jeans, and a tan-skinned man wearing too much blue denim (“Where did he get a denim fedora?”), came up behind him with guns drawn. 

Aiden said in the friendliest voice he could muster under the circumstances, “Hey, guys. What’s going on? I don’t think we need guns here. A car could get damaged. Don’t want to ruin a perfectly good (Aiden looked at the car in front of him)…2070…Toyota Corolla…” The skinny guy replied, “I think he’s right guys. ‘Den, you come out without any fuss and the boys’ll put their guns away.”

“Liverpool?” Aiden thought before he stepped out from behind the 22-year-old car and the two thugs holstered their guns as they approached and stood behind him. Aiden said, “So what are the chances you guys just let me go and pretend you couldn’t find me?” 

The skinny man chuckled and looked at the big man next to him. “Adam, do you think we should generously let this young man leave after he trespassed on Mr. Randell’s property, breaking the law and his trust as an employer, and shagged Mr. Randell’s 14-year-old daughter?” 

Aiden began a reply but he didn’t get past “Woah, hey, she…” when one of the men behind Aiden grabbed his duster at the shoulders and Adam took a step forward, grabbed the front of Aiden’s duster with his right hand and punched him in the gut with his left. The air blasted out of his lungs, greatly extending that last “e”, and he fell to the floor, eyes wide, gasping and trying to speak. He mouthed some words but nothing came out. Adam looked quizzically at the skinny man and then back at Aiden with a frown and said in an eastern European accent, “I don’t think Mr. Randell would be happy at all, Jimmy.”

Aiden thought, “Does Randell employ anyone from North America?”

Jimmy pulled out a Glock and casually waved it about in front of Aiden’s face. “I hear you’re a right good shot with a gun, kid. That so?”

Aiden, still coughing and gasping, simply nodded. Since he and his brother had come to this land where anyone could get a gun, he discovered that he loved guns and had spent a lot of time shooting over the last few months. 

“Guess it’s lucky for us that you haven’t pulled a rod on us, then, eh? Leave the guns at home to play with the totty, eh?”

 Jimmy made a shooing motion and said to the smoky-skinned ork behind Aiden, “You can go, Izzo. I think we three can ‘andle one squash kid. Go ‘ave a beer. We’ll join ya later.” 

Izzo nodded and headed back toward the SUV waiting at the west entrance. 

By now Aiden managed to get his breath back and exclaimed raspily, “Fourteen‽” 

Jimmy crouched in front of him, bringing his eyes to Aiden’s level. “What? You mean the girl? You believe that, Adam? Squash says he didn’t know.” 

Adam replied “Uhh…” 

Aiden, having recovered his voice, replied, “You’re codding me! She’s twenty if she’s a day.” Aiden noticed Adam looked at Jimmy as confused as Aiden was incredulous. 

Jimmy stood up and shrugged. “You probably should’a read up on your employer, kid. Biggest mistake a runner can make, not knowing who he’s gettin’ into bed with…so to speak. Don’t matter now, though, eh? You probably won’t be readin’ anythin’ once ‘ol Douggie is done with ya. Who knows, though. You’re pretty young. Maybe he’ll go easy on you and just break your legs…and face.” 

Jimmy gave Aiden a toothy grin and kicked him in the chest with a pointy, silver-toed boot. Then Aiden took a few more kicks from Adam and the denim guy. Aiden could fight but he knew he couldn’t win against the three of them so he curled up in a ball, trying to protect his head and abdomen while his thoughts raced to find a way out of this. One found the rib that took a bullet earlier. That brought tears to his eyes. Thankfully he still had his duster on so it took some of the sting out and probably saved his tailbone from the steel-toed boots of the denim king behind him.

Once they were satisfied that he wasn’t going to struggle, Adam and Denim Guy grabbed his arms and hauled him to his feet. Jimmy collected Aiden’s watch and hand display, as well as an unmarked credit stick he kept in his pocket. “Hey boys. Check it out. I’ve got one of those fancy new Sumitomo phone-watches and the display screen thing. What’s it called, Aiden?”

“It’s called a phone,” Aiden replied. He figured the more Jimmy talked, the more time he had to think of a way out of this.

“Right, but it’s spelled funny or sumthin’, yeah?”

“Yeah, they combined faux with phone and spelled it F-A-U-X-N.”

“Oh, yeah. Like fake phone. Thanks, Aiden. You know, I don’t think you’re a bad guy—maybe a bit stupid. I’ll put in a good word for ya with the boss. Tell him you’ve been right cooperative,” Jimmy said with a wink. “Let’s go boys.” 

Jimmy started walking toward the east entrance. Aiden smiled a little as they pulled him along behind Jimmy. He had set up his device security so that if he didn’t sign into it for ten days, the hardware would automatically overheat, destroying the processor and storage, making them essentially fancy rocks.

As they neared the exit, Adam looked at the guy on the other side of Aiden and whispered, “Frankie. Is she really fourteen?” Frankie chuckled, “Why? You fuck her too?” Adam didn’t reply and just pulled Aiden a little harder. Aiden thought, “Oh, denim guy is definitely from Chicago.” Frankie started to say something else but was cut off by the sound of squealing brakes as a rusty, silver pickup truck pulled up right in front of them.

Aiden heard his brother’s voice shout in Irish, “Aiden, lacha!” Aiden immediately became dead weight, falling to the ground and covering his head as he heard Jimmy say, “Who the…”, interrupted by the familiar thoomph sound of Gain’s weird gun, and the sound of shattered glass hitting everything. Adam and Frankie let Aiden fall. Aiden heard three men scream, felt shards of glass falling around him, and smelled vinegar. Gain shouted, “Dul isteach!” as he pushed the passenger door of the truck open. Aiden quickly stood up. Shards of glass and drops of pungent fluid fell off of his duster. The three goons were clutching their faces, torn by shards of glass, showered in vinegar, and making various sounds of distress. Aiden ran past them. His boots crunched some glass and he jumped into the truck, pulling the door shut behind him. 

Gain floored the go pedal and his electric engine whirred to life. The tires of the truck screeched and smoked as they spun on the asphalt. The truck lurched forward as the tires gained purchase and Gain and Aiden heard the bang of gunfire. The truck peeled around the corner and sped off to the west. Gain swerved around two cars at the Michigan ave intersection and dodged the oncoming traffic on E 21st street and then blasted through the S Wabash ave intersection as well. Aiden looked out the rear window. He didn’t see any sign of pursuit. “Gain, slow down.” Gain didn’t seem to hear. Aiden shouted, “Gain, slow down!” Gain slammed on the brakes, throwing Aiden into the dash, banging his right shoulder and his head. “Ow! What the fuck, Gain,” Aiden exclaimed as the car stopped. They were at a red light. Cars stopped behind them. Cars drove through the intersection. A dum-dente man wearing a trenchcoat and beanie walked through the crosswalk in front of them.

Gain looked at Aiden. “What did you do? Why were you at, and running from, Randell’s place in the middle of the night? Wait, do I even want to know?” The light turned green and Gain started driving again. “What the hell is going on, Aiden?”

Aiden shrugged and grimaced. “Randell is…uh…a little galled. At me.”

Gain said, “We literally just agreed to do a run for him earlier today and you said you were going to a greek party at Northwestern. How could you even have ended up back at his place to piss him off‽”

Aiden said, “Well, you see, I met this lass at that Greek hooley…and we got ta talkin’…” 

Gain groaned. 

“And well, long story short, we went back to her place, which turned out to also be his place although I didn’t realise right away, and,” Aiden cleared his throat, “and just as I was getting ready to leave, Douglas crashes through her bedroom door like that big pitcher fellow and threatens to feed my bollocks to his dogs.” 

“You bloody gobshite!”, Gain said, his face red from anger. “You fucked her didn’t you?”

Aiden cleared his throat, and mumbled, “Three times.”

Gain said, “You couldn’t keep your little dwarf prick in your pants for one bloody night! And for what? Was it worth it, ya feckin’ geebag?”

“Well…” Aiden half smirked.

“Don’t even answer that.” After a pause Gain glanced at Aiden and said, “Wait, isn’t his daughter like fourteen?”

Aiden looked at his brother with a tired, pleading expression.

Gain glanced back and, confused, said “What?”

Aiden just pressed his forehead against the window and watched the city pass by. LED streetlights cast a yellow glow on the sidewalks. A gaunt-faced dryadis ⁷wearing silver-studded black leather stood in a dimly lit alley. With half of her long blue hair shaved off, he could clearly see one tall, pointed ear and the red LED of her vape pen light up as she took a drag of her drug of choice in whatever her favorite flavor was. A scrunched up paper napkin fluttered into the air as they drove by it. The neon lights of bars, clubs and restaurants glowed in windows. A pair of sapiens men wearing windbreakers to hold back the fall chill entered a brick-walled restaurant with a child of around ten years following closely on glowing, wheeled shoes. The wheels retracted as it reached the threshold.

Gain turned the truck into the dimly lit lot of the Walgreens Garden Apartments and parked between a pair of sedans. The console flashed a text message that said, “Wireless charging 95%…” Aiden opened his door but Gain didn’t make any move to turn off the truck or get out. He just stared straight ahead, deep in thought.

“Gain. You gettin’ out?”

Still looking straight ahead Gain said, “We have to leave.”

“What? Now? Where?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, we, we gotta go get my bike. It’s still back…”

Gain interrupted, “No way. Forget the damn bike. If they haven’t moved it already or trashed it, they’ll have guys on it waiting to see if you come back for it. Come on. Let’s go pack our shite, quick. We need to get out tonight.”

Aiden got out, groaning as his bruised body complained about it, and headed to the 20-story apartment building. Gain grabbed his pneumatic launcher and the grocery bag and followed. They entered the glass doors of the grocery store and pharmacy that took up the first level of the building and got in an elevator that took them to the 4th floor. They walked down the green tiled hallway to a green door marked 48. Aiden waved his wrist in front of the door to unlock it and nothing happened. “Ah, feck. That twat-bake, Jimmy, took my watch.”

Gain sighed and waved his wrist-band in front of the lock. It lit up green and clicked and Aiden pushed the door open. They walked by the tiny kitchen on the right and into the small living room. Aiden plopped down in his brown leather chair. He grimaced and moaned as he felt the pain from all the punishment his body took tonight. “Oh, have mercy. I hurt everywhere.”

Gain smirked. “Serves you right.”

“So what do you want to do? Head to the airport and catch a bird home?”

Gain looked at his brother like he was the dumbest person he ever met.

“What,” Aiden asked, confused by his brother’s expression.

“What company does Randell work for?”

“Pfizer.”

“What is Pfizer’s parent company?”

“Johnson & Johnson?”

“Well, Sinopec, but Johnson & Johnson are also part of Sinopec. And what’s the name of the Chicago Airport?”

“The Johnson…Ah, shite.”

“Yeah. Real or fake, our passports won’t help us if they’re looking for your face. You show up at the airport and we won’t likely make it past security before we’re taken to a dark room for extra processing by some guy named Bill with a rubber glove and a tub o’ lube until ol’ Douggie shows up to start playin’ cricket with anything remotely ball-shaped.”

“Baseball.”

“What?”

“They don’t play cricket here. They play baseball.”

Gain looked at Aiden like an idiot again and said with exasperation, “Whatever.”

“So where do we go then? Hide out in the city? Pick a direction and drive?”

“I know a guy in San Fran. I’ve talked to him remotely periodically while studying Mobius Flow.⁸ He’s a physics researcher at UC Berkeley. We can head that way and contact him on the way. If we can get out of CRONA ⁹territory we can get a flight home.”

Aiden took a deep breath and blew it out. “Right then. Let’s pack up and get out.” He tried to stand up quickly but his bruised muscles did not cooperate and he dropped back into the chair. “Oww…Gain, a hand?” Aiden reached his hand out toward his brother. “I’ll gain you a hand right up your arse,” Gain said as he helped his brother up. Aiden paused and looked at his brother with an expression that Gain read as “That’s messed up, really?” Gain chuckled and then they both headed to their rooms and started packing.

Twenty minutes later the brothers met in the living room. Each had a black duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Aiden now sported a tool belt, two bandoleers of bullets, two holstered pistols, and a tightly woven black chainmail shirt. Gain also sported a backpack and wore a black wool jacket that reached mid-thigh. It was snug and bulged oddly due to the armor he wore under it. Gain looked at his little brother (literally, since Gain was more than a foot taller. Aiden was actually older by a few minutes.) and said, “Right?” Aiden nodded, “Aye.” Gain opened the door and stepped into the green hallway. Down the hall he saw two people in black uniforms briskly walking toward them. CSA shown in bright yellow block letters on the front of their light ballistic vests. He immediately stepped right back in, just about knocking Aiden over. Aiden started to protest but Gain interrupted, “Ta’firs’¹⁰,” as he pulled the door shut and locked it. Aiden asked, “Did they see you?” 

Gain replied, “Yes. Definitely.

“Shite, what are we going to do?”

“Barricade the door and out the window,” Gain said as he quickly pushed the leather loveseat to the front door and wedged it against the kitchen counter. While he did that, Aiden opened the door to the balcony, went outside and pulled out a nylon rope and grappling hook. He was fastening it to the balcony as a knock sounded on the apartment door. Gain quickly joined his brother on the balcony. “You want to climb down four floors on a rope? We’ll break our bloody necks. I’m taking the stairs.” 

Aiden replied, “Faster than the stairs.”

Gain looked at his brother like he was an idiot and started down the metal stairs of the fire escape as fast as he could. Aiden wrapped the rope around his right arm, gripped it in both hands, and hopped over the balcony. His beaten and bruised body made him immediately regret the decision but Aiden gritted his teeth against the pain, wrapped the rope under one boot and used his other to control friction to slow his descent. He quickly passed Gain on his way down. When he reached the bottom, Aiden cursed and immediately hurried east to go around the building. He knew Gain could catch up, and he did catch up as Aiden reached the northeast corner. Aiden looked around the corner and saw a security cruiser parked by the entrance but no officers so he sprinted to the truck. About half way to it, he heard a familiar thoomph sound, a pop, and a hiss. He looked over his shoulder to see Gain sprinting away from the cruiser with his pneumatic launcher in hand. Aiden opened the passenger door of the truck as Gain reached the driver’s side. “What did you do,” Aiden asked as Gain tossed his bags in and stepped up. “Slowed ‘em down,” Gain replied as he put the truck into reverse and pulled out. Aiden saw one of the CSAs run out of the building and look around. It quickly noticed the truck pulling out and ran to the cruiser, tapping its ear quickly one time on the way. The CSA paused and kicked the cruiser as it noticed the blown-out front tire on the driver’s side. Gain squealed the tires of the truck as he sped out of the lot and into the street, headed south. 

“Gain, we need to go that way,” Aiden said, pointing behind them.

Gain replied, “I know that, but the seesay doesn’t know that.”

Once they were out of sight of the CSA, he went a couple of blocks west and then headed north, avoiding the major roads until they reached IL-64 and headed west.

To be continued…

1. Consisting of Ireland’s Connacht region, the TDD is a constitutional monarchy. Parliament consists of an elected King and Queen from each county by popular vote. The High King is the executive leader elected by votes cast by the 5 Kings and 5 Queens. It split from the rest of Ireland when Corporatists took over the UK and the Republic of Ireland in the 2030s-2040s
   ↩︎
2.  Canada is still a sovereign nation (although a bit smaller since the UFN took a chunk of the southwest) but the part that was called the “USA” split up in the 2030s into 20 loosely united corporate-controlled states, the “United First Nations”, and “The Pacific Union” (a strip along the west coast including parts of California, Oregon, and Washington as well as all of Alaska and Hawaii that still clung to the USA’s national identity) 
   ↩︎
3. Runner — Slang for an independent mercenary. May or may not be registered. ↩︎
4. Homo sapiens lata-brevis (slang: dwarf, korobokuru, squash) — subrace of homosapiens that sprang into existence when the Mobius Flow came to Earth in 2072. Average 4ft tall. Broad build. Dense, thick skeleton. Dense musculature. Weigh 30% more than homo sapiens sapiens of the same height. At 5’ tall, Aiden is like a Kareem Abdul-Jabar of lata-brevis.
   ↩︎
5.  Homo sapiens dum-dente (slang: ork, pig, greenskin, tooth, dum dum) — subrace of homosapiens that sprang into existence when the Mobius Flow came to Earth in 2072. Skin color ranges from pale green to almost black. Average 6ft tall with powerful build. Lower canines are long enough to protrude. Heavy brows with sloped foreheads. Pointed ears. Eyes are red. They have strong night vision and a keen sense of smell. They are carnivores.
   ↩︎
6.  Homo sapiens dryadis: Commonly called “elf” (plural: elfs, elves), sometimes “dryad”. Avg 9% shorter than sapiens and weigh 20% less than sapiens of same height, generally weak and frail but graceful and charismatic with strong social instincts. There are no biologically male dryadis. Seasonal hair color; Blonde or white in summer, brown or auburn in fall, black in winter, brown or auburn in spring.
   ↩︎
7. A form of energy identified by physicists after the 2072 change event. It’s often referred to as “magic” by laypeople, much to the chagrin of physicists. Some individuals have learned to manipulate it and some creatures need it to even exist. They usually refer to it simply as “The Flow” and sometimes (usually jokingly) “The Force”.
   ↩︎
8. Conglomerate Republic of North America. 20 loosely unified corporatocrasies controlling much of what used to be the USA. The “Republic” is a thinly veiled lie to placate the population with scapegoats.
   ↩︎
9.  Corporate Security Agents. Ta’firs’ (also toffers) is slang for the lightly armed officers who tend to talk first as opposed to the “Shoo’firs’” (also shoofers) who are heavily armed/armored and are known to shoot first and ask questions later.
   ↩︎