The Righters

Prologue

Brian Fisher checked his holographic wristwatch and sighed at the disappointing observation. Sarah Fisher, his wife, said that she would only be a few minutes. Thirty minutes later, Brian's patience had nearly deteriorated to nothing. He was going to call her, but the process was halted by her emergence from the front door of their luxurious home.

The sight of Brian's wife caused him to momentarily overlook her tardiness. She was stunningly beautiful; unnecessary were the use of makeup and the adornment of a glittering blue dress. Her long blonde hair swayed gently as the wind skipped through her fine locks. She strode elegantly toward the vehicle in which Brian awaited, a Chevy ZTS 901. The 901 was a floater, a vehicle that levitated over the magnetically engineered roads as opposed to the obsolete rollers-wheeled vehicles-that were taken off of the market decades prior. It came fully equipped with a top-of-the-line temperature regulator, an autopilot feature, free-floating technology which allowed the vehicle to float above any surface for an hour, and BioLect, a revolutionary robotic technology that functioned as a full-service assistant to authorized drivers and passengers.

The 901 retailed at a little over three million, but Brian knew a lot of resourceful people throughout the country. A friend not too far off helped Brian find one for less than two million.

When Sarah was within ten feet of the vehicle, the sleek passenger door lifted with a soft hiss, welcoming her presence.

Recognizing Sarah's BioLect ID, the system greeted her as she entered. "Hello, Mrs. Fisher."

"Hey, Gene," Sarah replied as she sat down next to her husband. Gene was the name Brian had given the BioLect right after purchasing the vehicle. "I'm sorry, Brian. I didn't mean to take so long."

Brian looked at her in amazement. "I forgive you, but it's only because you look so beautiful."

Sarah smiled, blushing after hearing the compliment.

"What is your destination, Mr. Fisher?" Gene asked.

"The Norigon Ballroom."

"Right away, sir."

The vehicle immediately shifted into gear and took them on a smooth expedition through Area 1155, one of the most beautiful Areas in Region 115, previously known as Chicago. Cities were called Regions-subsequent of the aftermath of the devastating Takeover, a domestic war that sent the country into widespread turmoil-and the neighborhoods within those Regions were named Areas. The first set of numbers representing Areas consisted of the Region number, followed by the Area number. For example, Region 115 consisted of Areas that began with 115. Therefore, Area 1155 represented the fifth Area of Region 115.

States, however, retained their original names. The average Region consisted of roughly 200 Areas. Region 115 was one of the wealthiest Regions in the country.

The traffic in Area 1155 gradually grew worse as they drew nearer to their destination, so Brian opted to take control of the wheel.

"Activate manual controls," he said after gripping the steering wheel.

"Right away, sir," Gene replied as the controls were switched.

Brian felt the familiar jolt of the steering wheel as the manual controls were activated. The decision proved to be a clever one; shortly after the controls were switched, a driver in a roller pulled in front of their floater and stopped immediately.

"What the hell is he doing?" Sarah asked.

Brian remained silent, slamming his foot on the pressurized brakes while gripping the steering wheel firmly as he attempted to comprehend the actions of the lower-class driver in front of them.

I knew I shouldn't have taken this side street.

Suddenly, two strange men exited the roller. Initially, Brian was not aware that there was a passenger in the other car. Both men were equipped with traditional, bullet-firing weapons. Though these weapons were outdated and did less damage than their laser-firing counterparts, they were still lethal.

One of the armed men walked toward the 901. Both of the men kept their weapons pointed directly at Brian and his wife. Brian did his best to remain calm, but his nerves began to get the best of him.

"Both of you, out," said the taller of the two chaps. "And keep your hands where I can see them, lest you want to die tonight."

Brian and Sarah exchanged saddened looks and raised their hands after opening the doors, slowly stepping out of the vehicle onto the road which was now vacant.

The nearest assailant moved closer to the clueless couple. "Brian Fisher," he said with a malicious smirk on his face.

Bewilderment flooded Brian's inner being. "How do you know my name?" he asked. Brian was one of the best lawyers around, but his skill didn't warrant a celebrity status. Very few recognized him besides people that were close to him. And this man was anything but.

"We know a lot more about you than just your name," said the potential assailant. "We also know that you have something very valuable to us, and we need it right now."

Brian sighed. They probably wanted nothing more than chips, the new worldwide currency. "Look," he said, "if it's money you're after, I have plenty of it. Take-"

"That's not what we're here for," the man interrupted coolly.

Brian was beginning to grow impatient. "What do you want?" he asked intolerantly.

Instead of answering immediately, the man strutted toward Brian and didn't stop until he was merely inches away from his face. Brian could smell the reek of alcohol, stale cigarettes, and cheap cologne.

Speaking in a tone nearly as faint as a whisper, the man replied, "Your wife."