The rain relentlessly drummed against the windshield of the black sedan as the Retriever, known simply as Kane, maneuvered through the city streets. The neon lights of storefronts and street signs flickered in the downpour, casting an eerie glow on the slick pavement. Kane’s face bore the wear of years of chasing runners – a perpetual scowl etched with lines that told stories of exhaustion and frustration.
His mid-thirties seemed to stretch beyond their years, the stress of his job accelerating the aging process. Two ulcers gnawed at his stomach lining, a constant reminder of the moral turmoil he wrestled with daily. He had spent the past decade hunting down runners, those brave or desperate enough to escape the clutches of the oppressive vocational education program.
The badge and gun on his belt granted him authority few questioned. Capturing runners, dead or alive, was his mandate – a quota-driven job that brooked no excuses. And this month, he was lagging behind. The pressure intensified, gnawing at him as he navigated the dimly lit streets.
The tracking device mounted on the dashboard emitted a feeble signal, indicating that the girl runner was somewhere nearby. Kane’s fingers rapped impatiently against the device, frustration evident on his face. He slammed the side of it a few times, as if physical force could coax better performance. A violent shake followed suit, a blend of anger and desperation.
Cursing under his breath, he decided to take a breather and pulled into a small diner’s parking lot. He needed a moment away from the relentless rain and the relentless pursuit. The glow of the diner’s fluorescent sign cut through the darkness, offering a brief sanctuary. Kane stepped out of the car, his black suit quickly soaked.
Inside the diner, the air was heavy with the scent of sizzling bacon and brewing coffee. The bell above the door chimed as he entered, drawing the attention of the waitress behind the counter.
With a practiced smile, Maggie approached the counter, knowing exactly where he would sit. They always chose the first seat. The Retriever settled onto the stool, his fingers absentmindedly tapping against his non-functioning tracking device. He was close to the girl runner, he could feel it. The signal was weak, but he trusted his gut instincts.
“What can I get you?” Maggie inquired, her tone polite yet tinged with weariness. “Toast and coffee,” the Kane replied, his eyes still on the malfunctioning device. Frustration danced across his face as he fiddled with it, wishing for a solution that budget cuts had denied him.
The girl runner was near, almost within his grasp. If not for the relentless cost-cutting measures, he would have had access to the latest equipment, ensuring a swift capture and elimination of this persistent thorn in his side. But bureaucracy and finances had conspired against him, leaving him at a disadvantage.
“You look like you could use a hearty meal,” Maggie remarked, her voice taking on a sympathetic tone. “The boy in the back makes a tasty breakfast platter. Let me serve that up for you.” Her hand came down with a friendly slap on the counter, her attempt to distract him subtly.
“It’s on the house!” Maggie added, her eyes holding a mixture of empathy and cunning. She knew how to manipulate a situation, and this was her chance to help the girl runner evade capture.
The Kane glanced up, a brief hesitation in his features as he considered the offer. Hunger gnawed at him, and he couldn’t deny the allure of a free meal. With a curt nod, he finally relented, “Alright, I’ll take the breakfast platter.”
As Maggie turned to relay the order, her gaze drifted to the diner’s rear entrance, where a quiet couple slipped away unnoticed. The girl runner and her boyfriend had seized the opportunity to escape, their departure concealed by the ruckus of the diner. Maggie’s heart raced with a mix of triumph and relief. She had played her part well.
Minutes later, a hearty breakfast platter was placed in front of the Kane, its aroma enticing. He stared at it for a moment, his mind elsewhere, still grappling with the malfunctioning tracker.
Stellar Harbor