CYBER LEGEND

‼ SUSPECT HEADING EAST ON HOVER LANE 9, REQUESTING BACKUP ‼

I could hear the police screaming orders and instructions at each other while chasing me, their voices sharp and metallic over the comms, like fishermen struggling to reel in a big one. Sirens wailed behind me, shrill and overlapping, mixing with the low hum of hover engines.

I’m driving at full speed, the wheel vibrating beneath my palms, swerving left and right as the retro car’s engine growls like an old beast being forced to sprint. The smell of hot metal and burnt oil clings to the cabin, faint but irritating. No GPS in the car since it’s a retro model — I fancy myself a collector. Also, no GPS means the cops can’t track my every move.

I glance in the rearview mirror — two cruisers tailing me like vultures circling a dying animal. One of them tries to flank me, but I swerve hard, clipping a stack of neon-lit crates that explode into a shower of sparks. A drone zips overhead, scanning, tracking, its red eye blinking like a curse. I slam the accelerator, the engine roaring louder, daring the machine to keep up.

The road narrows — a construction zone ahead, half-lit and littered with debris. I veer sharply, tires skidding over loose gravel, narrowly missing a steel beam that crashes down behind me with a deafening clang. A spotlight from the drone locks onto my windshield, blinding me for a split second as I grit my teeth and punch through it. My heart is thudding like a war drum, every second stretching into eternity.

This chase has led me to a worksite — a place where buildings are made. The sharp tang of wet concrete and the metallic clatter of cranes hit me immediately. For a moment, I panicked, my chest tightening, but then I smiled upon remembering that I put myself here.

My last adventure was certainly a splash in the pond meant to draw attention. Think of it like going out with a bang.

To be frank, it certainly was a bang — considering I just blew up Prime Tower while it was hosting an event for some people you call villains. The memory still rings in my ears — the boom, the flash of light, the glass shattering like rain around me.

You might be wondering how I managed to pull off a feat like this. Well, I am a villain myself — a very peculiar one. Funny, telling one’s life story while on the run from the cops. So it’ll have to wait, because I just hit a dead end.

My tires screeched, smoke curling up in pale blue wisps as I slammed the brakes. The steering wheel jerked hard in my grip.

I think I wanted this. To go out in the most spectacular way possible — have the most thrilling police chase and surrender at a dead end with no regrets whatsoever.

The cops weren’t easy with the cuff pod. The cold metal clicked around my wrists, biting into my skin. I told them “pickles” is my safe word. They didn’t laugh.

They put me in a cube — one of their inventions made for the worst of criminals. The air inside is filtered, clinical, with a faint electric hum. I’m honoured.

I could see the grin on their faces as they headed back to their cars, the flashing lights painting their uniforms red and blue. They finally caught a big one, huh?

My trip to the nearby station was brief. The cube vibrated slightly with each turn, every bump in the road resonating through the floor beneath me. They deemed it necessary to have law enforcement stationed at almost every road and turn. But that doesn’t deter crime, does it?

Humans. Such highly intellectual creatures, but still prone to basic mistakes.

Bad posture. I think I have a cramp. My shoulders ache against the cube’s narrow backrest. That’ll have to be sorted out later, along with my urge to urinate.

I was unloaded there and patiently waited for the “big boys” to come pick me up. The air outside was sharp with ozone from hover engines and the faint smell of cheap synth-coffee from the station’s break room.

Why big boys, you ask?

Well, they’re battle mechs transformed to act as robo-cops. They seem beneficial to society, but I don’t trust them one bit. Their servos whir softly, every movement precise. Their module was one of the first to almost reach full autonomy. With the way certain humans act, I know someone, somewhere, is trying to bring that back.

Back to my perfect life — I was now on my way to having a roof over my head, a cold bed, and little vitamins to keep me from starving.

(They call them “vitamins.” In reality, it’s just supplements that stop you from passing out from hunger. They don’t provide health insurance — definitely not after negligence caused by their greed.)

Anyway, I’m being taken to a place called a detention centre. It’s basically a prison, but with the same basics as a school.

It has stages.

What doesn’t have stages, you ask?

Simple — simple beings who hate the work and stress that comes with them.

The view is almost new but nice as I sit in my cube, reminiscing. The walls are faintly scratched with messages from people who sat here before me, some carved, some written with fingernails. Probably because this is my second time here. I had gotten two guys out before. Actually, three — the third one took a leap of faith.

It was simply a case of the right thing at the right time. I called him “New Guy.” The more the merrier, right?

The car stopped at a section meant for arrivals like me. The driver got out, his boots clanking against the metal floor. He immediately took a pill I recognized — but not before scanning his surroundings to make sure no one saw.

Now I’m sitting in a highly sealed cube, two war machines at my sides like bodyguards. Their armor glints under the harsh white station lights. I watch other criminals get taken in, some kicking, some silent, all with that same dead-eyed look.

Basically, it’s protocol to inform the higher-ups about VIPs like me before I’m taken in for debriefing and questioning.

I sit and await my trial.