Infiltrated | In This Future Or The Next

Infiltrated

I was assigned to a case of drug smuggling that was going on from Lunar District 3 to Earth. I had been on the case for about 7 months when this happened.

I left my home in downtown New Angeles at 11 AM.

The day started off with heavy rain and thunder. I took my usual bus to the shuttle central station where I bought my tickets. I made small talk with an older gentleman about the weather, and how those damn Lions just couldn’t manage to win a game this season.

The shuttle arrived on time and I walked to my usual spot on the back of the long car. I sat down and turned on the heat, I was drenched.

No one sat beside me, perhaps they liked being close to the exits, or perhaps they felt afraid of the man in the long trenchcoat. Either way, the circumstances favored me.

After twenty minutes hauling ass through the atmosphere and satellite ring we got to District 3.

I got off the shuttle and was met immediately by one Mr. Horton’s crooks. A pale tall guy with the fashion sense of an emo cyberpunk, “let’s go”, he said.

I followed him through the station and into an ageing silver sedan.

He began driving to Mr. Horton’s palace of love, a disgusting whore infested shithole near the southern border.

I had worked my way into the drug organisation enough so that they trusted me. That day I was going to meet Mr. Horton, the organisation’s head, he was going to give me my own route and people to smuggle drugs to Earth.

This would have been an excellent breakthrough, it would have provided me with enough evidence to take this guy down, and a bunch of his pawns.

About halfway to our glamorous destination, shit got real. A bunch of kids blocked our way during a red light, and emo guy started honking the car’s ass off. The kids stayed put for about 5 minutes and then ran into the houses on both sides of the streets.

My gut told me this was a bad place to be. I opened the door and began running back where I came from, while paleskin yelled at me to get back in the car.

Not 20 seconds had passed when the car exploded in a fiery inferno, some asshole had shot a bazooka from a window in the second floor on one of the buildings.

I ran as fast as my legs allowed. I only turned back once to see 10 guys coming out of the same building and shooting led into the car.

I turned at the corner where a group of hobos stared at me as I ran. Luck was on my side. I grabbed a cab that had been patiently waiting for a customer parked beside a small theater, I told him to get me to the station again. Mr. Horton would have to wait for a better day.

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  1. Interesting “black” sci fi story. But if you wish to be taken seriously, kindly correct your punctuation: several commas in the text should be replaced by periods.

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