05-25-2017, 08:14 AM
With a sickening crash and a dying whine, the cruiser came to a halt, it's front half wedged into the street level entrance of the station's stairwell. A little puff of smoke plumed from the engine as the punk twitched, groped to his feet and dusted off the sleeve of his jacket. While patting himself down, with his right arm, he pricked the palm of his hand on a gleaming white bone shard jutting out of his left bicep.
“Yeaaargahh!” he bellowed, awoken from the shell shock of getting rammed by a cruiser. Frantically he searched all around the rubble filled stairwell for the bundle. Finding it, he flashed a quick grin and middle finger at the stunned police officers still in the car.
“Nyah! So long coppers!” he taunted before limping up the stairs, his left arm swinging uselessly.
A digital bell rang out and a mechanical voice intoned from a loudspeaker, “Bing, Bong! This is a Sixth Tier Transit from Yelskin Station. Next stop, Karachi Plaza! Doors open on the left!”
MAD BULL shook himself awake and gave Janie a meaty open-handed slap across the face.
WHAP!
“Wake up, he’s gettin’ away ya dumb broad!”
“Unnh? What?” she replied in a daze. With her head quickly clearing, her hand reached for the cruiser’s door and she rattled the handle. “We can’t! It's no good! The doors are wedged between the walls of the stairwell! We’re trapped in here Sleepy!”
“The hell we are!” MAD BULL roared. The sergeant pulled the car’s 10 gauge breaching shotgun from its holster in the center console, pumped the slide on the stock, advanced the shell into the chamber and fired a blast into the windshield, spraying the two cops in a shower of plexiglass.
KRAKAKOOOM!
“Common already!” he demanded as he yanked Officer Janie through the broken windshield, across the hood of the cruiser and down to the rubble strewn stairs. A full 20 yards away the punk could be seen triumphantly limping up the stairs to the waiting platform.
Janie and Sleepy looked at each other and nodded firmly. Both unholstered their pieces - Janie a Glock 9mm, MAD BULL his Smith & Wesson NY-1 revolver. Six .38 special rounds rattled in the chamber as the pair sprinted up the stairs after the punk.
As they reached the platform, they spotted the punk shouldering his way into a crowded train car.
“No!” Janie exclaimed as she dashed forward, shoving her arm into the automatically closing doors. The doors harmlessly bounced off her, allowing the two fearless cops to board the train one car behind the punk. With a hiss the train began to rattle and gain speed, darting from the station. The buildings below soon became a blur as the train cars rocked back and forth, sliding along the elevated tracks that stood above the crowded streets. Commuters began to murmur with apprehension as the two openly armed cops began to push through towards the back exit where the next car was linked.
The train cars were box shaped and the upper halves were walled with plexiglass so that tourists could enjoy the spectacular view overlooking the city below. Benches were arranged in rows, like in a bus, for passengers to sit or sleep in, but who could possibly rest when a massive man-beast like MAD BULL 34 was around with an equally emasculating gun.
The sergeant and his partner looked through the back window, spying into the adjoining car, searching for the crust punk. The train was almost completely filled with commuters, day laborers and a few bums who rode the rails day and night. The two cops gazed into the adjoining car with tense eyes, scanning past the overalls, business suits and nylon hose, both searching for that lucky punk in the green jacket. Through the rocking crowd of passengers, in the back of the next car, they found him, meekly handing his brown-paper wrapped package to a male figure.
![[Image: 1390829344753.gif]](https://i.warosu.org/data/fa/img/0076/82/1390829344753.gif)
The man was perfection personified. He stood at the back of the train car, his body statuesque and unmoving while all the passengers rocked to and fro with the rumble of the tracks. His black leather motorcycle boots were immaculately clean and its epony sheen stood out amongst the teeming unwashed masses of rabble that surrounded him. His equally black leather pants hugged his flesh, like a new skin, openly contouring to every nook, cranny and bulge it contained. His chest was bare, the abs so defined they almost looked like pink scales on a mythic dragon. He wore a black leather motorcycle jacket, its collar popped upwards. Although the man was still, the collar rocked and swayed with the movement of the train car. His yellow bouffanted mullet was perfectly coiffed, like a golden shell encapsulating the crown of this majestic man. He wore a pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses, not letting a hint of the emotion in his eyes shine through.
There was a thick gold chain around his neck, with futuristic dog tags attached. MAD BULL’s eyes focused and read the stenciled characters on the tags:
![[Image: 66Qoj7.gif]](https://j.gifs.com/66Qoj7.gif)
MD GEIST.
“Yeaaargahh!” he bellowed, awoken from the shell shock of getting rammed by a cruiser. Frantically he searched all around the rubble filled stairwell for the bundle. Finding it, he flashed a quick grin and middle finger at the stunned police officers still in the car.
“Nyah! So long coppers!” he taunted before limping up the stairs, his left arm swinging uselessly.
A digital bell rang out and a mechanical voice intoned from a loudspeaker, “Bing, Bong! This is a Sixth Tier Transit from Yelskin Station. Next stop, Karachi Plaza! Doors open on the left!”
MAD BULL shook himself awake and gave Janie a meaty open-handed slap across the face.
WHAP!
“Wake up, he’s gettin’ away ya dumb broad!”
“Unnh? What?” she replied in a daze. With her head quickly clearing, her hand reached for the cruiser’s door and she rattled the handle. “We can’t! It's no good! The doors are wedged between the walls of the stairwell! We’re trapped in here Sleepy!”
“The hell we are!” MAD BULL roared. The sergeant pulled the car’s 10 gauge breaching shotgun from its holster in the center console, pumped the slide on the stock, advanced the shell into the chamber and fired a blast into the windshield, spraying the two cops in a shower of plexiglass.
KRAKAKOOOM!
“Common already!” he demanded as he yanked Officer Janie through the broken windshield, across the hood of the cruiser and down to the rubble strewn stairs. A full 20 yards away the punk could be seen triumphantly limping up the stairs to the waiting platform.
Janie and Sleepy looked at each other and nodded firmly. Both unholstered their pieces - Janie a Glock 9mm, MAD BULL his Smith & Wesson NY-1 revolver. Six .38 special rounds rattled in the chamber as the pair sprinted up the stairs after the punk.
As they reached the platform, they spotted the punk shouldering his way into a crowded train car.
“No!” Janie exclaimed as she dashed forward, shoving her arm into the automatically closing doors. The doors harmlessly bounced off her, allowing the two fearless cops to board the train one car behind the punk. With a hiss the train began to rattle and gain speed, darting from the station. The buildings below soon became a blur as the train cars rocked back and forth, sliding along the elevated tracks that stood above the crowded streets. Commuters began to murmur with apprehension as the two openly armed cops began to push through towards the back exit where the next car was linked.
The train cars were box shaped and the upper halves were walled with plexiglass so that tourists could enjoy the spectacular view overlooking the city below. Benches were arranged in rows, like in a bus, for passengers to sit or sleep in, but who could possibly rest when a massive man-beast like MAD BULL 34 was around with an equally emasculating gun.
The sergeant and his partner looked through the back window, spying into the adjoining car, searching for the crust punk. The train was almost completely filled with commuters, day laborers and a few bums who rode the rails day and night. The two cops gazed into the adjoining car with tense eyes, scanning past the overalls, business suits and nylon hose, both searching for that lucky punk in the green jacket. Through the rocking crowd of passengers, in the back of the next car, they found him, meekly handing his brown-paper wrapped package to a male figure.
The man was perfection personified. He stood at the back of the train car, his body statuesque and unmoving while all the passengers rocked to and fro with the rumble of the tracks. His black leather motorcycle boots were immaculately clean and its epony sheen stood out amongst the teeming unwashed masses of rabble that surrounded him. His equally black leather pants hugged his flesh, like a new skin, openly contouring to every nook, cranny and bulge it contained. His chest was bare, the abs so defined they almost looked like pink scales on a mythic dragon. He wore a black leather motorcycle jacket, its collar popped upwards. Although the man was still, the collar rocked and swayed with the movement of the train car. His yellow bouffanted mullet was perfectly coiffed, like a golden shell encapsulating the crown of this majestic man. He wore a pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses, not letting a hint of the emotion in his eyes shine through.
There was a thick gold chain around his neck, with futuristic dog tags attached. MAD BULL’s eyes focused and read the stenciled characters on the tags:
MD GEIST.