Mike checked his watch. The digits ticked: 7:59:28...29...30. A sigh escaped his lips as he adjusted the headset over his ears, "Take On Me" blaring softly as a fleeting comfort. The year 2089 shimmered holographically across the horizon. Routine drowned his thoughts until the sudden slam of a car door shattered the calm.
"Floor it, man!" The Russian accent was unmistakable. Mike barely processed Vasily's words before his foot instinctively pressed the pedal to the floor. The car roared to life, shooting down the desolate streets. Mike's voice quivered with tension. "What the hell just happened, Vasily?"
"Nothing to worry about," Vasily replied, but his bloody coat told another story. As Mike drove, the radio blared news of a shootout at a nearby restaurant.
"Did you just kill someone?" Mike asked, glancing at Vasily.
Vasily leaned back with a smirk. "Nothing to worry about," he repeated, tossing the bloodied coat into the backseat. But Mike's nerves betrayed him. This wasn't the first time Vasily's "adventures" had roped him into trouble.
A notification blinked across the windshield—"Stop the car." A police heli-carrier hovered above, spotlights slicing through the dark. A bent cop knocked on the glass. "Nice ride. You steal it?" the officer sneered.
Mike rolled down the window and feigned calm. "Antique. Belonged to my old man. Got the papers if you want."
The officer's expression twisted as he caught Vasily's accent. "Look who's here! A Rusky!" Another officer chimed in, mocking, "How's the Motherland? Cold?"
The exchange grew tense, but before things escalated, Officer Natalie intervened, barking orders at her team. "There's an explosion at the city outskirts, and you're filling your pockets here? Move out!" Reluctantly, the officers let Mike and Vasily go. As they drove off, Vasily hummed, "What a Wonderful World," his dark humor grating on Mike's nerves.
The car screeched to a halt outside an abandoned warehouse by the harbor. Vasily motioned for Mike to tint the windows. While Mike fiddled with the controls, Vasily grabbed a hidden stash of dope from the locker.
"Don't screw this up," Mike warned as Vasily stepped out.
Mike's anxiety simmered as he watched Vasily disappear into the shadows where a group of men awaited. Moments later, the deal grew heated. Mike reached for the gun in the dash, bracing for the worst. But Vasily returned, his confident stride intact.
"Let's go," Vasily ordered. As they pulled away, Vasily muttered, "Shit's was about to get worse."