In the darkness, sounds began to reach me. At first, they were muffled, but gradually, they became clearer until I could finally make them out.
"Open up this hunk of scrap and drag that bastard out," a voice came through the haze.
I heard the screech of a grinder cutting through metal. Forcing my eyes open, I saw them slicing through my door. My memory quickly returned, and I recalled what had happened. Looking around more carefully, I took in the crash site and the armed thugs surrounding us. My partner was most likely dead crushed on impact. The main force of the crash had hit his side, and not even the car's armor had saved him.
I started searching for a weapon. At the very least, I wouldn't go down without a fight. Grabbing my pistol in my right hand, I reached out with my left, pressing the emergency signal on the car's touchscreen to call for backup. I also tried to activate the vehicle's combat mode, but it returned a signal error.
In combat mode, the car's defense systems should have activated a turret should have emerged from the trunk, guided by the onboard tablet, along with combat drones for reconnaissance.
But it looked like all I had was my pistol… and the car's self-destruct system. It would blow me up along with everything nearby. At least I'd take these bastards with me.
"Hurry up! He's coming to! Get him out!" I focused on the one speaking. It was Carlo DeVargo, standing right next to the car. He caught my gaze and ran a finger across his throat.
"You won't die quickly like your partner. First, I'll strip the skin off your bones. Then I'll tear your limbs apart, one by one. And only after that, I'll chop off your head and send it to your family." He laughed, a sick, twisted sound.
Let's see how much fun you have when backup arrives.
A notification popped up on my tablet: "Emergency signal canceled."
What? Canceled? I tapped the button again, but the message "Unavailable" flashed on the screen. Then another one: "System locked."
"What's the matter? System not responding?" the bastard taunted. "Guess what? Your own bosses sold you out."
Fuck. He was right. Only central command could override the signal.
Why the hell would they do this to me?
It wasn't hard to figure out. A few officials I'd put behind bars… and the others I was investigating… they must have decided to get rid of me. I should've seen this coming.
Fine. Then I'll just activate the self-destruct.
I held down the designated button, and the port for the key opened. Pulling it from my pocket, I inserted and turned it.
Nothing happened.
Frowning, I glanced at the screen. The self-destruct system was active but unresponsive.
"Not working? What a shame," Carlo sneered, now standing right outside my window. He pointed mockingly at the system's port. "What a damn shame."
That routine car inspection a week ago… I'd noticed something felt off but didn't think much of it. I should have. They must have stripped out everything useful. Honestly, I was surprised they hadn't removed the armored windows, too. No if they had, I definitely would've noticed. They only took out the emergency systems, the ones you'd never check under normal circumstances.
So this really was my last hope.
The neutron grenade.
It would vaporize everything in the area.
I got it from a weapons dealer I'd locked up. Instead of handing it in as evidence, I kept it for myself just in case. Never thought I'd actually need it.
If there was no way out, then fuck it.
Reaching to the backseat, I grabbed my armored case the one where I kept my important documents and the grenade. I never wanted to use it because of the collateral damage. But screw it. Let it all burn.
Entering the password, I popped the case open and pulled the safety pin, starting the detonation sequence.
All I had to do was release the trigger.
For good measure, I held it up for Carlo DeVargo to see.
His eyes widened in shock, terror flashing across his face. He recognized it.
"Hey, now, don't do anything stupid. Let's talk," he said, taking a careful step back.
"What was that you were saying about flaying me alive?" I taunted.
"Come on, man, don't be rash. You have a family, right? You want to go back to them, don't you?" His voice wavered slightly.
I didn't exactly love my family. But they were still my family. And yeah I wanted to live.
"Here's the deal," I said. "Your people leave, and you and I walk to the edge of the slums. I go my way. You go yours."
"They'll grab me the second I step outside," Carlo hesitated.
"Not my problem. Either you do it, or we all die here." I wasn't about to negotiate with a gang leader.
He raised his hands in surrender. "Fine."
I pushed the car door open with difficulty and stepped out, unsteady on my feet. Guns were still trained on me.
"Now tell them to stand down," I ordered.
"Everyone, back off!" Carlo shouted.
They hesitated but ultimately obeyed.
He and I made our way to one of the vehicles. In my left hand, I kept the grenade primed. In my right, I kept my pistol aimed at him.
"Look, you're a smart guy. Why keep working for people who betrayed you? Join me instead," Carlo tried to persuade me.
"Save your bullshit for someone else," I spat. Just hearing him talk made me sick.
"Fine." He slid into the driver's seat, and I climbed into the passenger's side.
"Hurry up and drive," I said, nudging him with the barrel of my gun.
Without a word, he started the engine and pulled away.
In the rearview mirror, I saw his men following us.
"Call them off. Now."
He hesitated.
I pressed harder. "I said now!"
Not wanting to, he still took out his phone and dialed a number. On the other end, someone picked up quickly.
"Yes," he said.
"Don't talk to them, just give the order," I cut him off before he could start a conversation with his people.
"Got it. Do not follow us, I'll handle it myself," Carlo ordered and hung up.
The car that had been tailing us soon fell behind, and we continued down the empty road.
"Is that really what you're going to do? Hand me over to the cops, get another meaningless commendation, and swallow the betrayal?" He switched to psychological tactics, trying to manipulate me.
"Just drive in silence," I said harshly.
"A pathetic salary and endless work. Is that the life you want? As long as you're useful, they keep you around. The moment you become inconvenient, they'll throw you away like garbage." He clearly didn't understand me.
"I said shut up." He was really starting to piss me off with his attempts to sway me.
"Join me. A man with your talents could make a lot of money." His next attempt at persuasion was met with the butt of my pistol slamming into his head.
He cried out in pain, gripping his head with one hand. I had split the skin slightly, and blood started to trickle down. Losing focus for a moment, he nearly lost control of the car but quickly corrected it. He didn't try to speak again and just drove in silence.
Before long, we approached the checkpoint, and at the sight of our vehicle, the military raised the alarm. They grabbed their weapons and took aim at us. The turrets swiveled and activated their laser targeting, locking onto our bodies.
"Stop the car," I ordered Carlo.
The car rolled to a stop thirty meters from the gate. Holstering my pistol, I stepped out. But the neutron grenade remained in my hand I couldn't deactivate it. It seemed I'd been too hasty in activating it. What a stupid mistake. The blow to my head must have rattled my judgment.
"I'm Detective Matthew Carrington, bringing in a criminal!" I shouted to the guards.
Hearing me, many turned their eyes toward one of the officers in charge of the checkpoint. Hesitating, he grabbed a sound amplifier.
"We cannot confirm your identity, but the person beside you is indeed a known criminal. Stay where you are," he said through the loudspeaker.
They erased me from the database? They're acting too fast. Getting back inside is going to be a problem.
"Check the cameras. My partner, Brandon Fletcher, and I entered this area two hours ago!" I shouted again. Their logs should have a record of our entry.
The officer consulted his subordinates, and after a brief exchange, he spoke again.
"Where is your partner?" he asked.
"He was killed in action," I replied.
After another few minutes of internal communication, he addressed me once more.
"Detective Carrington, what's in your left hand?" Damn, I had hoped they wouldn't notice the grenade. Lying was pointless; their cameras had likely already identified it.
"A neutron grenade," I admitted, raising my left hand, which I had been keeping behind my back. Their momentary relaxation vanished, and every weapon was now aimed squarely at me.
"Why do you have banned weaponry and why is it armed?" The officer's tone grew harsher.
"I had to activate it to get out of an ambush. Thanks to it, I'm still alive, and I was able to capture this criminal!" I shouted, trying to make them understand.
"Stay where you are and await further orders," he commanded.
"Understood." Only now did I allow myself to relax. I turned to check on my prisoner. As soon as I looked at him, I saw a smug grin in his eyes. He held up his phone.
Shit. I should have taken it from him.
I was about to snatch it from his hands when I heard the all-too-familiar sound of a missile launch the distinct whoosh of exhaust smoke trailing toward the checkpoint.
An explosion thundered, immediately followed by gunfire from the slums, coming from various types of weapons. In response, the automated defense systems returned fire. The car where Carlo was still sitting suddenly sped off. I didn't hesitate I pulled out my pistol and started shooting at the wheels, precisely puncturing each one.
He lost control and crashed into a tall barrier. I immediately dropped to the asphalt and crawled toward the vehicle, bullets whizzing over my head as missiles struck both the checkpoint and the enemy positions.
When I reached the car, I saw Carlo slumped over the steering wheel. He was either unconscious or dead. Gunfire continued to rage outside, but it seemed the military was losing ground. I needed to get out of here alive and in one piece, preferably.
I couldn't escape with him, but leaving him behind wasn't an option either. That meant I had to eliminate him. Without hesitation, I fired a couple of shots into his head. His body jerked slightly before going still. So he had been alive after all.
Crawling between the high concrete barriers, I moved toward the checkpoint. If I could just reach it, I could disappear. To cover my escape, I decided to get rid of the neutron grenade. With all my strength, I hurled it toward the enemy positions. A few seconds later, the grenade started to whine, gaining momentum. The light grew increasingly bright, and when it hit the ground, a massive explosion erupted, annihilating everything in its path. The shockwave hurled me several meters back.
My head slammed against the asphalt, and everything went dark. Sounds merged into chaotic noise, and flashes of images flickered before my eyes. I felt warm blood trickling from my ears.
Events unfolded rapidly after that. Reinforcements arrived at the scene, securing the entire area and eliminating all the remaining gang members. I was arrested and subjected to an interrogation. I revealed nothing that could be used against me only cold, verifiable facts. Despite the recklessness of my actions, my mission was technically complete, and the dangerous terrorist was dead, even though they had wanted him alive.
They kept me locked up until late evening, when, finally, my superior entered my cell. The door creaked open, and with a hint of sarcasm, he stepped inside.
"Good evening, Matthew. Rough day, huh?" he asked, waving for the guards to leave.
"That's an understatement. So, what's my sentence?" I asked, already picturing a prison cell with iron bars or, worse, a far more sinister method of disappearance in the dark alleys of the slums.
"Your actions were reckless and foolish though you're supposedly one of the smartest people we have. The consequences were costly for the police. Numerous deaths at the checkpoint, not to mention a whole section of the city practically erased from existence thanks to your neutron grenade. Heroics like that warrant the death penalty if you're lucky, life imprisonment." He laid out his perspective on the situation, confirming my worst suspicions. What a damn day. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
"Shit happens," I quipped.
"This shit only happens with you. We were already preparing your prison transport, but then an unexpected order came from higher up dropping all charges and dismissing you, stripping you of all honors, awards, and any recognition," the Chief said, looking at me with a serious expression.
"So I'm no longer a detective?" I smirked.
"Essentially, you're nothing now. I doubt you'll even get hired as a janitor. But that's not all. Your actions caused severe financial damage, and as a result, all of your assets are being seized by the state." He delivered the final blow, and for the first time in years, I felt a flicker of anger.
Despite my years of service, it felt like I was being thrown away like garbage.
"That's it?" I held back my anger, knowing there was little I could change right now. But in time, I would get my revenge and find those who wanted me dead.
"Yes, that's it," he said, closing the folder of documents and tapping on the door. "Get him out," the chief ordered the guards.
I was thrown out of the police station faster than I'd been brought in. All I had left were the clothes on my back everything else had been confiscated. Dark thoughts clouded my mind as I headed toward a bar, even though I had no money. Maybe my old acquaintance, the bartender, would pour me something anything.
My feet carried me to a bar that had become my second home. I often came here to unwind, drink, and smoke. Damn, I could use a cigarette right now but I had none. Whatever. Time to get completely wasted.
Stumbling into the bar, I took a seat at the counter. My longtime friend, the bartender, greeted me immediately.
"Welcome our brooding detective, Matthew Carrington a true legend! There's not a single per"
"Just pour me a drink," I cut him off, not in the mood for stories.
"Bad day?" he asked, smoothly flipping a bottle and pouring a shot.
"Not the first one." I downed the drink in one gulp. "Another."
He sighed. "I can see you're not in the mood to talk," he said, refilling my glass.
So I sat there, drowning myself in alcohol, pouring liters of it down my throat. My mind grew hazy, my thoughts blurred. It felt like none of this had actually happened to me as if I were just watching someone else's life unfold.
When I reached for yet another shot, the bartender pushed the glass away.
"Sorry, Matthew, but are you going to pay for what you've had?" His tone had changed he wasn't friendly anymore.
"I'll pay. Just a couple more," I insisted, slamming my hand on the counter.
"Pay up and leave," he refused.
"We've known each other for years. I'll pay," I said, and even through my drunken haze, I noticed something off about him.
"Sorry, but I think you've mistaken me for someone else. I don't know you," the bartender said, and a suspicion crept into my mind.
"Why are you saying that?" I asked.
"Pay and leave, or we'll throw you out and take the money ourselves," he nearly shouted, and the bouncers approached me.
Grinning, I did something completely unlike me I tried to charge at one of them. But the alcohol had drained all the coordination from my body, and I crashed to the floor.
The bouncers grabbed me, dragging me out through the back exit. My feeble attempts at resistance meant nothing. They shoved me into a narrow alleyway, rummaged through my pockets in frustration, then started beating me. I just lay there, trying to shield my vital organs from the blows. Eventually, satisfied, they left me on the wet pavement.
I lay there for a few minutes before attempting to stand. My legs buckled beneath me. To make things worse, it started to rain. I had nothing but my jacket, and the heavy downpour soaked me to the bone. At least it sobered me up a little enough to get back on my feet properly.
I wandered the streets aimlessly. I had no purpose anymore. I had lost everything. And I had no idea how I could ever get my revenge.
Despair gnawed at me, and the urge for a cigarette became unbearable. I decided to ask a passerby for one.
At that moment, a man walked by, his figure obscured by shadows. The streetlights seemed to bend around him, making it impossible to see his face under the umbrella he carried.
Error 5:;%?"(№";*
Damaged brain sectors detected
Restarting simulation...
Error
Retry failed
Postponing error
End of memory sequence
My head grew heavy. Two sets of memories collided, merging into one another. Mine and... mine? There was no other way to put it.
I remembered everything perfectly, every moment lived. I was sure that was me.
Initiating boot sequence...