Wasteland

II

Max

"I could be sleeping right now." I mumble, banging my head back against my passenger seat. The truck sped down the quiet dark streets at ass o'clock in the morning.

"Part of the job, newbie." Damien chuckles. "You get stuck with the shitty shifts. And I get stuck having to accompanying you." We pull over onto the curb and grab our weapons to walk the rest of the way.

It is way past curfew. Curfew lasted between midnight and six on the weekends, eleven and five on the weekdays. Anyone caught between those hours would be taken in.

There was rarely anyone stupid enough to be out at night. It was dangerous. In West Village, most were just shot on sight. They never made it as far as interrogation. 

"We raid this place at least once a week. Arrest a dozen stupid teenagers but never find exactly what we're looking for. Why aren't they just shutting this place down?"

Damien slings his gun across his back. "They aren't as stupid as you think. There is some kind of inner plot going on in that place. And until we find out what it is, this is how it's going to be. They would just find some other way to have their fun anyway."

There's a grate at the corner of the block that's left open at night. Damien drags the top off and I jump in after him. It's dark and smells horrific. A kid sits a few feet away, propped up against the door with a comic book in his hand.

His head snaps up when he hears us and before anyone can say anything, he is banging on the door rapidly—one tap, two taps, one tap—and then he's gone, sprinting farther into the tunnel.

I sprint forward to go after him but Damien grabs me. "Let him go." He yells, kicking the wooden door in and baring his gun. "Everybody down!" He bounds inside.

I spring in, showing my own gun. There's a lot of yelling. People running. The lights have been cut and the music isn't playing anymore. Backup arrives in seconds and we manage to apprehend seven people.

"You guys get back." An officer grunts at me. "We have a long night ahead of us."

Sullivan is in the interrogation office when we get there. He's sitting across from a kid wearing nothing but an undershirt and has his head lolled back like he owns the place.

"Did you have any fun tonight?"

The kid crosses his arms over his chest. "Tons of fun, thanks for asking."

"I don't get it. You're from East Village. You have great opportunity. Yet you still go to Underground. Why is that?"

"I like to have fun."

Sullivan leans forward. "You don't have fun in East Village?"

The kid starts to get fidgety. "Opportunity and freedom are different things to me. I'm sure you can understand that, Officer."

"Commander." Sullivan corrects.

The kid rolls his eyes. "All those opportunities for rich kids like me mean nothing if there are kids just on the other side of the wall who are starving."

Sullivan hums. "How poetic. Look, I'm not going to beat around the bush, son. Do you know a man named Andre Rose?"

The kid shrugs. "I've heard of him. Pretty infamous guy hm? Like a myth." He answers. "Never met him though."

"Really? I take my job seriously, boy. I've been at this for over thirty years. I know what I'm doing."

"Congratulations, I hope I'm as respectable as you when I grow older."