NERO

Running

           "STOP!" My footsteps thudded the ground. Each stride building momentum, power, confidence. To me, this was the best part. Adrenaline suited me over mind games, a junky of sorts. Maybe I liked to show others my superiority as an athlete compared to them. It was nature's simplest hierarchy. The easiest tool of intimidation and most basic form of egoism. Of course I would never trade my IQ of 160 for athleticism. With that IQ, I would create my own.

           The flimsy police waddled behind me. Two middle aged men, probably regretting skipping the gym right about now and gaining all the weight they put on after getting married. I knew every single police officer and official in any area I worked in. You prepare enough, you can beat anyone. These soon to have midlife crisis hillbillies didn't have a chance. With each step vibration rode up my legs, reaching my abdomen, and disappearing. All I could see was the grey sidewalk in front of me, and the blur of green grass on each side, each blade a person cheering me on. The pounding in my ears was distracting me, I shook my head and looked forward. We had already run two blocks, there had to be more coppers on the way. According to my profiles, there were 8 of them in this district. None of them held a threat to me when it came to a foot chase. Except for one. An ex high school running back. Yes, he's black.

         I turned left. Another block or so was a dead-end, with a large fence and on the other side, untouched land. A creek, brush, ect. They wouldn't pursue me over there, even if the pigs could get over that 8 ft. fence. I raced past houses, all mostly grey, with differently colored trims. A sort of modern style. Not too much effort by the developers, but not all exactly the same so these upper middle class white snobs with trophy wives, BMWs and little brat girls didn't throw a fit that their next door neighbor has the same house. Lawns all kept. Some with beautiful groves of flowers. Even more beautiful was one of the wives bent over in her little personal garden, tending to her lilies. Blond hair. Sweatpants. A gorgeous rack. Told you didn't I?

        I ran pass her house. She stood up in alarm, dropping her mini shovel as she realized what was happening on her sidewalk. The look on her face told me she was sheltered. Things like this didn't happen in her neighborhood. I wanted to say something, but I refrained. I don't want to risk people recognizing my voice.

        I approached the fence. 8 ft tall, chain link. No problem. I started to widen my steps. Those blues were still huffing behind me, still at least 20 ft away. Last step. I launched myself upwards with my left foot, reaching the 45th ring from the bottom with my right foot and wedging it. Plenty high as I grabbed the top of the fence, using momentum, my arm, and my right foot to swing over. Hitting the ground I crouched, absorbing the landing. Pain shot through my legs, centering at my knees. Thousands of little pins, like fire ants. I was going to be fine. The two officers came stomping to a halt in front of the fence. I turned and looked toward them. I know what you're thinking, "but they'll see your face". No problem, I snatched one of those Anonymous masks from the thrift shop. Cash purchase. Inventory unregulated. Only $6. Hell of a good deal. I smiled and raised my arms. One reached for his gun. Too late. I tucked my chin and fell backwards, rolling down the hill, out of sight. They never had a chance to get me. No one did. That was the metaphor for my life.