"This is so tiring."
A young, weary-looking policeman in his early twenties, named Graft, spoke from the patrol car's backseat.
Twirl, twirl..
He twirled a small metal rod in his fingers, the SynTek-issued baton feeling heavy in his hand.
"Why did we have to be drafted immediately right after being assigned to the Tropics? Talk about a buzzkill."
The blonde woman at the front seat turned the steering wheel, sounding annoyed.
"Something more important came up. Apparently, a truck had crashed off a cliff just an hour ago this evening. Central Dispatch is making it a high priority. The truck driver's employer called and asked us to retrieve the goods."
"I still don't get why that's considered more important than a mission in the Tropics, though."
"It's important because of the truck's cargo, dimwit."
Puff.
The middle-aged man beside her blew on his cigarette. The woman covered her nose.
"Right you are, Lianne. Whatever that truck was carrying is top secret. Even I was surprised when we were assigned to this mission-- especially with a newbie like you here, Graft."
Puff.
"Will you please put that cigarette away, Marco?"
"You may have one, if you want."
"So that's why there's so many of us here."
Graft mumbled to himself as the two officers started bickering. He looked out the rain-streaked window, where two other police cars were driving beside them. The wind and rain had lessened somewhat, but knowing the nature of the weather around this place, it'll probably continue to rain until tomorrow afternoon.
'I wonder what the 'classified' cargo is.'
"Sighh. Why did I have to be assigned to this department?.."
Woooo---oooo!
Skidd.
The three police cars slowed to a stop as they approached the sharp curve. The Officers stepped out of their cars.
Graft followed behind Lianne and Marco as they cautiously approached the side of the cliff.
"Damn. This place should really be blocked off."
Despite the rain and darkness, they could make out a large silhouette at the bottom--- presumably the truck. Bits of scrap metal and truck debris clung to the towering trees nearby.
One of the older Officers sighed in frustration.
"Ugh.. Are any of you Deviants?"
The other Officers shook their heads. Graft held onto his metal rod.
"I.. I'm not, but I do own something developed by SynTek. Should I scout ahead?"
He was the youngest and most agile out of the seven Officers. He saw this as an opportunity; a chance to impress his superiors and maybe even earn a 'commendation'. The Officer who asked the question looked him up and down, then nodded in reply.
"Yeah, go ahead. The rest of us don't have the capacity to climb down or back up that cliff in this weather. Dispatch has informed us that Deviant support is on route, but they're dealing with something big. So, we need to make do with what we have. Keep your comms open and call out once you find the crate, yeah?"
"S--sure." Graft grinned, his adrenaline pumping. He'll get this done swiftly.
"Be careful. It's a long drop down," Lianne told him. She patted him on the back.
Graft mumbled that it was nothing to worry about, then approached the cliff's edge. He hoisted himself over the side and began descending carefully.
Aside from encountering occasional loose or protruded rocks and getting his face whipped by the wind and rain, Graft had no problem descending down the cliff. He clutched the metal rod tightly, using it's extend and retract feature to steady himself when a surface was too slippery.
'All that training paid off. I'll be the first one to recover the crate, I'm sure of it. Maybe then they'll consider me for that promotion.'
After half an hour or so of climbing, he reached the cliff's bottom.
"I MADE IT!" He yelled to the others.
He drew a flashlight from his side and shone it on the overturned truck. The container it had been carrying had broken free of it's restraints. He paused, sniffing the air.
"Urgh.. what is that smell?"
He carefully approached the driver's window. He pointed the flashlight's beam on it, and immediately staggered back, horrified.
"Uck.. what did I expect? I forgot the truck driver hasn't been retrieved yet, either."
Fighting back the urge to vomit, he averted his gaze from the corpse and made his way to the container, which had it's doors sprung wide open. It's contents had either been spilled or broken by the crash.
'What makes them believe their 'classified' cargo is still intact? Wishful idiots.'
He entered the container and looked around.
'What did that crate look like again? They said it was marked by a number..'
His gaze settled on the only crate that appeared undamaged. He picked it up and turned it on it's side.
"072.. I think this is the one."
But that was odd. It was.. incredibly light?
He looked at the crate's cover. It had a slight crack on it.
"So it wasn't undamaged after all." Even its lock had been torn off. He examined the crack curiously, then glanced around as if checking he was alone.
"It wouldn't hurt to take a peek.. right?" He told himself, sweat trickling from his head. He knew that the officers could be checking in anytime soon, so he had to make this quick.
After all, he was the only one here. It wasn't like anyone would chide him for being a little curious.
"If it's something illegal like drugs or smuggled goods, I'll probably be complimented," he reassured himself.
He opened the crate's lid and found..
"??"
The crate.. had nothing in it.
"Huh? What the hell? Was this not the right one, or--- MPHH!!"
!!!
Graft let out a muffled scream as he felt something tugging on his neck.
"Hak-- ack-- khuk--"
The grip tightened. His face started to turn a deep shade of purple. His hands tightened at the metal rod, but for some reason his thumb couldn't find the button to extend it.
"Uck-- ACK-- Ha..."
Thud.
Graft slumped over, foaming at the mouth, and fainted.
His body lay flat on the container's floor. Behind him, shrouded in darkness, holding a piece of short rope, was a small, black-haired child.
The child had no clothes on. He bent over, poking at the man's head, as if making sure he was unconscious, then carefully took off the man's shirt.
Slip.
The child carefully put the shirt on, slipping his head and arms into the holes. It was far too big for him to wear, but he didn't seem to mind. On the contrary, the child's face looked fairly pleased.
"Zzz... Zz.. snore.."
Graft let out a loud snore, his expression warping from terrified to happy in a single second. The child looked at him with slight pity before taking the metal rod from his hands. He fidgeted with the object with great interest, pressing the button to extend and retract it repeatedly.
Then, after deciding he was done with Graft, the child stepped out of the container.
"Hellooo? Did you find the crate, Graft?"
A voice from overhead made the child drop the metal rod, startled. He quickly picked it up and ran as fast as he could towards the towering trees.
Huff.. huff..
The child panted, his small hands gripping the base of the cliff.
With a surprisingly strong lunge, he started to climb it.
An hour later, he emerged out of the underbrush and onto the road. He stumbled, but didn't appear like he was exhausted.
The child looked around.
Though quite distant, the faint sound of voices calling reached him. He retracted the metal rod and started to walk down the road.
Rain beat down on his small figure, and he shivered. Nevertheless, he continued to walk, shielding his eyes with one hand.
...?
The child blinked against the wind and rain. A very bright, circular light rushed toward him, intensifying with each passing second. He shielded his eyes.
"Oh, Micheal!"
Skreeeeeech.
Thud!
The child sat down on the ground, knocked by the wind. He blinked rapidly.
"Oh, you poor thing! We're so sorry!"
The child felt himself being scooped up. A young woman in a tight dress and blazer brought him in the vehicle. The man in the driver's seat looked anxiously at her.
"A.. a kid? What's a kid doing in the middle of the road?"
"I don't know, but we almost ran him over!" The woman, not bothering to check herself, took out a towel from the back seat and started drying him. "What's your name, honey? Are you lost? How ever were you able to travel this far?"
The child simply stared. The woman patted his head.
"No, nevermind.. he must still be shocked. Let's get him to a Police Station, dear."
"Alright."
The man replied. He turned the car around and sped towards the direction they came from. The child listened intently as the woman introduced herself.
"My name is Eunice, dear, and this is my husband, Micheal. We're not bad people, I promise; we're going to get you somewhere safe, okay?"
The child looked curiously at the man and woman, not saying anything. He looked out of the window, watching as trees zoomed by. The rain intensified, making soft 'plop plop' sounds against the car windows.
!!
A while later, the child's eyes lit up.
There, in the distance, visible down the slope of the hill, were thousands of neon lights.
Upon getting closer, the lights turned to towering buildings and structures, enclosed in a collosal, circular wall with three massive gates. A bright, glowing neon sun with six rays was fixed at the top of the middle gate. Roads snaked from the three entrances.
Compared to it's bleak surroundings, it looked like an entirely different realm.
....
"Like what you see, kid?" the man laughed, now making the car descend down the hill.
"Welcome to Metropolis."