06-18-2018, 05:21 PM
His watch, as he wearily looked it over, told him it had been nearly four hours. Four hours of back and forth, questions and answers and runaround. And paperwork. Bureaucracy at its finest. Nice and orderly, finely detailed and laid out, but so excessively complex. Forms for this, papers for that, electronic records for something else, multiple copies of everything, careful explanations of it all to make sure you understood that they understood your complete understanding...
As he eased himself into the driver's seat of the Griffon and shut the door, Roger Smith was nursing a headache. This was one reason he'd left the Military Police; all this procedure and organization.The fact that it had all been in the name of a corporation that was church and state, looming over the city like a child over its toybox, had only been a resounding nail driven into the coffin. Not the final one, but not the first one; just the biggest and most damning one.
Starting the engine, the negotiator rubbed at his temples with a gloved hand, gently massaging away the bitter ache that came with recalling his days in Paradigm City's Military Police. He had done good work, it was true, but certain orders had always left a bitter taste in his mouth and raised the bile in his stomach. Preserve the city, not the people, they had actually said at one time. While it was true that parts of the city couldn't be rebuilt again, not in the same state they were...being that dismissive of human life had never sat right with him.
Never would sit right with him.
Pulling out of the parking area outside the facility he'd been directed to, Roger idly pulled up the map he'd been given of where he should be headed next. The computer in the Griffon was able to accept the data, and after a moment of updating -- just enough time for him to get the car out onto the road, as it were, and underway -- it displayed the route. Flickering bands of static crawled over the screen, lit in hues of black and white. Old, monochrome, but it was sturdy and it worked.
Pausing at one corner, the negotiator looked up at the traffic overhead. Cars and vehicles of all sorts just went along their business in the air, hovering and flying as steadily and securely as anything on wheels would do on the ground. Reflected in the polished glass of his shades, it was a fantastic image which still baffled and left him confused and unsettled. Childish, ridiculous notions played in the back of his head of the flying vehicles stalling and crashing down. Dropping out of the air like overgrown flies, smashing into pavement and pedestrian alike. Some would explode, some would just sit there, littering the sidewalk and roads.
It was a foolish notion, he knew. There were no doubt security measures in place, in the cars and streets themselves, to prevent any such ridiculous accidents. It was foolish, but it still made his hands tighten on the steering wheel and his mouth dry out as he turned the corner.
And maybe he gave it a little more gas than was necessary, to hasten the trip and get him moving on, out of the shadow of mechanical conveyance hovering over his head.
As he eased himself into the driver's seat of the Griffon and shut the door, Roger Smith was nursing a headache. This was one reason he'd left the Military Police; all this procedure and organization.The fact that it had all been in the name of a corporation that was church and state, looming over the city like a child over its toybox, had only been a resounding nail driven into the coffin. Not the final one, but not the first one; just the biggest and most damning one.
Starting the engine, the negotiator rubbed at his temples with a gloved hand, gently massaging away the bitter ache that came with recalling his days in Paradigm City's Military Police. He had done good work, it was true, but certain orders had always left a bitter taste in his mouth and raised the bile in his stomach. Preserve the city, not the people, they had actually said at one time. While it was true that parts of the city couldn't be rebuilt again, not in the same state they were...being that dismissive of human life had never sat right with him.
Never would sit right with him.
Pulling out of the parking area outside the facility he'd been directed to, Roger idly pulled up the map he'd been given of where he should be headed next. The computer in the Griffon was able to accept the data, and after a moment of updating -- just enough time for him to get the car out onto the road, as it were, and underway -- it displayed the route. Flickering bands of static crawled over the screen, lit in hues of black and white. Old, monochrome, but it was sturdy and it worked.
Pausing at one corner, the negotiator looked up at the traffic overhead. Cars and vehicles of all sorts just went along their business in the air, hovering and flying as steadily and securely as anything on wheels would do on the ground. Reflected in the polished glass of his shades, it was a fantastic image which still baffled and left him confused and unsettled. Childish, ridiculous notions played in the back of his head of the flying vehicles stalling and crashing down. Dropping out of the air like overgrown flies, smashing into pavement and pedestrian alike. Some would explode, some would just sit there, littering the sidewalk and roads.
It was a foolish notion, he knew. There were no doubt security measures in place, in the cars and streets themselves, to prevent any such ridiculous accidents. It was foolish, but it still made his hands tighten on the steering wheel and his mouth dry out as he turned the corner.
And maybe he gave it a little more gas than was necessary, to hasten the trip and get him moving on, out of the shadow of mechanical conveyance hovering over his head.
![[Image: kUpgBYg.gif]](https://i.imgur.com/kUpgBYg.gif)