The bike cruises through the city streets like a hot knife through butter, sweat pours down his face and into his eyes, stinging them, and the helmet makes it impossible to wipe them away. He shoots around the corner with the bike on its side, and can feel the street bed brush past his knee as he leans into it and then pulls the bike upright and kicks it forward. The bikes dashboard lights up and it comes to a grinding halt as he launches himself off the bike and lands on the ground with both feet, pulling his enforcement blaster free from its holster. In the early days, when the domes were conceived, The United Federation outlawed the use of projectile weapons and introduced the Wasson Classed hard light blaster, these blasters operate using power cells that are converted into a hard-light, bullet like object that can scorch, shatter or eviscerate its target, depending on the setting programed by the user, he flicks his blaster to eviscerate and rushes towards an open doorway where the bodies of three district officers lie in pools of blood. He’s only within a few feet of the entrance when shots rip out of the doorway towards him, he frantically dives to the ground taking cover on the opposite side of the doorway and quickly fires back randomly inside.

“Drop you’re fucking weapons and get the fuck out here with your hands in the air. If you refuse to cooperate I’ll have no option but to enter the building and hand out extreme judgment,” he yells.

“Fuck you blue, we’re not coming out and you’re not coming in, fall the fuck back or we’ll waste every motherfucker inside!”

He punches a few buttons on a wrist pad and a small holographic image appears, giving him a bird’s eye view of the interior, “Surveillance shows you’ve already done that, so once again, which way do you pieces of shit want to play this?”

But he leaves them no time to react as he launches his assault, he’s quickly in the doorway and his first three shots all hit their targets square in the centre of their heads, the fourth member of the gang dives behind a counter for cover.

“You’re fucking dead blue!” He screams out as he leaps from around the counter and fires randomly throughout the shop front, as the smoke clears nothing moves. He spits of wad of saliva onto the ground in front of him and smiles a sly, sneering smile. Then he feels it, the coldness of steel against his temple, his eyes dart sharply to the side and he stares into his eyes.

“Bang!” he says as he pulls the trigger, removing half his head.

The sound of approaching sirens make their way towards the building as he makes his way out through the doorway, the cruisers come to a skidding stop in front of him and officers quickly jump out of the vehicles, he puts his hands in the air, holding up his badge.

“Sorry boys, you’re a bit late, the fun’s over.”

“You were fucking told not to enter the building Jackson, there were hostages.”

“I told you what you could do with your fucking orders, besides, the hostages were already wasted before I got on scene. I made a call and took the fuckers down, because let’s face it, ice was too good for those pieces of shit, so if you’ve got a problem with that you can go tell someone else, because I’m not listening.”

“You think you’re so fu…..” but his sentence is cut short as Gary places his hand in the air and pulls out his ringing phone.

“Jackson here?”

“We’ve got another one,” the voice on the other end of the line says.

END OF PROLOGUE