Game of Dice and Dominos (Domino Series #1)

"But sir, they committed a heinous crime!" Timo whined, although he wouldn't call it whining. He would call it: "making-the-sergeant-see-reason".

"Alright, rookie, what is it this time?" Sergeant Barton rubbed his forehead; he must be concealing a migraine. Timo admired that about him -- always working so hard for the good of the citizens of New Empire City. But he wished he would take better care of his health.

"Civilians reported a sighting of a fresh graffiti display on a brick wall in Boswhick neighborhood! According to New Empire code 145, it's vandalism, sir! I'm telling you, sir, these VagaBonds are starting to cause real problems!" he exclaimed, but careful not to raise his voice at his commanding officer.

"Yeah yeah, I get that they're annoying and, obviously, getting on your nerves--"

"Very much sir!" Timo agreed.

Sergeant Barton sighed, "But lemme ask you: did they damage public property?"

"Not technically, but--"

"Did they destroy a national monument?"

"No but--"

"Do people see that wall everyday?"

"The people who live in Boswhick do."

"Do the people who live there give a damn about a sad brick wall finally getting some color?"

"I think they should, sir. If we tolerate this kind of behavior, those hooligans are gonna think they can strut the city streets like they own the place. They might do something more dangerous next time!"

"Look, kid. As much as I'd love to get ya on a real case, I can't, unless you stop obsessing over them damn vandalisms." Sergeant Barton shook his head. "Fine. If we catch them in the act, painting graffiti, sure, we'll arrest them if that will shut you up on this subject for good.

"But we aren't about to waste time on investigating the case 'of who painted a damn wall'. Just call it a day and let the low-lives have their taste of fun. Got it Carl?"

"Yes sir. It's Carter sir," he corrected.

"Sure Carpenter. You're dismissed, rookie."

He would catch them. He didn't know how or when but he will catch them red handed, if it's the last thing he does. They were up to no good, it was too much of a suspicion to miss. There was new graffiti painted almost every night and he was sure it was their doing. However petty it was, it was still a crime. And he knew they were the ones behind it.

Well, most of it.

Right after he reported to the sergeant, Timo drove back into Boswhick neighborhood to visit the group who called themselves the VagaBonds. It was supposed to be his lunch break, however, he lost his appetite at the thought of them running lose in the city. He didn't know exactly what their purpose is as a group, but as long as they are up to no good, Timo will find a way to bring them down. He got out of his car and started walking deeper into the slums. 

"Come out vandals!" he yelled to no one in particular, but he still hoped to receive an answer.

As he straddled deeper into the alley, marching at the murky puddles with each stomp, he yelled some more, "Come out, come out wherever you are!" His voice was shaky, though he tried his best to hide it.

He stopped at a dead end, and inspected the brick wall. There was graffiti painted all over it. There was a big word, 'SPEAK', sprayed in different, bright colors on the wall, no doubt the work of the VagaBonds. As he marvelled at the display of vandalism before him, more in contempt than in awe, a thud landed behind him, splashing a puddle as it landed on the wet asphalt.

"Okay first of all, we're not vandals — we're artists. How many times do we have to..." the voice groaned, "Why don't you people get that?" It was a woman's voice that resounded from behind him. But he never heard it before. Who was she?

"Second," she continued, "are we playing hide and seek now?"

He did not dare answer, nor did he turn around to face this new menace, fearing she might disappear before he could catch a glimpse.

He only stood, frozen, his head slightly turned sideways, as the woman continued to babble behind him, "Don't worry, I won't argue. That game sounds like fun. I'll go hide and you count—"

"Stop!" he demanded, abruptly spinng on his heels to face her. Her taunt to leave was just that — a bluff. Her posture didn't show any signs of someone about to leave.

"Don't move," Timo huffed. The woman obeyed, only casting him a skeptic glare as she folded her arms and shifted her head.

She wore a navy blue hooded crop-top, with a separate shirt under it covering her belly button, paired with black jeans. Her clothes, and her mask, wrapped her body as if the darkness was embracing her, leaving only her eyes and fingers in the light. Even her feet wore a pair of night-shaded boots.

"I haven't seen you before, are you, by chance, a new VagaBond recruit?" Timo scoffed.

She bobbed her head to the other side.

"I don't answer to tyrants," she said dismissively, her mask ruffled as she opened her mouth.

"I'm not a tyrant," he corrected, bringing his hands in front of him, palms facing the woman, and shook them from side to side. A gesture that meant her words were false.

The woman narrowed her eyes and Timo immediately brought his hands down. She took a few steps forward until there was only about a foot left of space between them. Timo did his best to stand his ground, not daring to flinch.

"Well you look like a cop," she pointed out, as if it weren't obvious already. Timo was wearing his police officer uniform, he thought it was fitting to do so since he was in the slums on pure business. Besides, he had no time to change as it was the end of his break after another hour, or so. The woman took another step into closing the space between them. Timo turned into stone and he only allowed his eyes to move. Veering his sight to the left, he saw that the woman was...sniffing him?

Once she faced him again, she spoke, "You even smell like a cop," she crossed her arms. "Now what was that scent again? Pine? From the air-conditioning?" she thought out loud. "No no no, there was something else." She tapped her chin. Timo eyed the woman closely. She must be talking about the slight tang of alcohol that wrapped his uniform from all the wild drunkards that have entered his police car. But other than that, what was she playing at?

"I'm a cop, I'm not a—"

"Aha!" she yelled, raising her finger. "You must be a new one! Too bad for you. All you do all day is go round the city tryna catch some rogue drunkards, you reek of alcohol. You rookies are fun playmates, until you join the big leagues and turn into a full blown tyrant—"

"I'm a cop, not a tyrant. Police officers aren't tyrants." He raised his voice into a volume he didn't want to have to use. He took a deep breath to suppress his temper.

"Cop? Tyrant? What's the difference?" She shrugged. Is she about to insult the city's police force? He casted her a look of disbelief, apparently he was at a loss for words. She continued, "Y'all think you're oh so righteous and that the very grounds you walk on are sacred, but it's not." She said her next words in a dark voice, far from her jolly tone.

"Just because you enforce the law, doesn't mean you're above it."

"We're not above the law," Timo argued, "just as you said, we enforce it." He took a few steps closer to her. "We lead by example. How can we expect to see order and honesty and integrity if we don't show it ourselves?"

She walked past him. Timo didn't bother to turn around and face her. It wasn't worth the effort.

"Hmm. You tell me, rookie," she mocked.

Frustrated, Timo threw his head back to look up at the clear, blue sky. He brought his head back down and asked, "What's your name?"

She took a while to answer, as if considering if he was worthy to know, then, "They call me Thunderfang."

"Why? What's your real name?" Timo demanded.

"I don't know, you tell me. You seem to know alotta stuff," she scoffed once again.

With that, a growl resounded from behind him as if an animal had found him and decided on what to prey. Instinctively, Timo spun on his heels, anticipating an attack.

But nothing came. He looked over his shoulder again.

And Thunderfang was gone. 

Walking back to his car, he couldn't stop thinking about what she had said. As much as Timo hated to admit it, Thunderfang was right about one thing: he was still a rookie cop.

I've been on this route for almost two years now, and I'm hardly doing anything, Timothy whined in his head. This isn't what he signed up for. As he got in, he slammed the car door to vent out his frustration.

He wanted to be out on the streets, chasing criminals like real cops, but he's stuck in this drunk wagon patrolling the streets for any wild drunkard threatening the peaceful lives of other civilians. Checking his watch, he saw that there was plenty of time left before his break ended. But, seeing as he had nothing else to do and no appetite, he decided to get back to his rounds. 

As soon as he reached the city's main streets, Timothy decided to park the patrol car in hopes of calming the flames of his impatience. Moments later, he heard a knock on the passenger seat window and his face was immediately overcome with glee.

"Hey champ! I was wondering when I'd see you here." The man's old, raspy voice was worn out through all the years of work, but it always sounded warm and welcoming. He was wearing the uniform all high-ranking policemen wear. Timothy immediately unlocked the car door.

"Hey Joe! I'm glad to see you." He smiled back at the man as he exited the vehicle to give him a hug.

"Hey, Timo, how you doing so far? Pretty good?" Joe inquired as they haven't seen each other in a few weeks since they had both been busy.

Joe's full name was Joseph Carpenter. He was a close friend of Timo's parents, Jeremiah and Naomi. When they both died in a fire accident while on the field, Joe would often visit Timothy at the orphanage to keep him company.

Joe could have brought Timo up himself, but he said he didn't feel he was ready for the responsibility of becoming a father. He also didn't want Timo to be part of any mess he's already in in his 'other life', as he would always tell him. He did, of course, have to explain it to Timo and he almost lost count on how much the child begged that Joe should adopt him. Nonetheless, he fought the urge to give in and said a firm no each time.

Timo looked back on how Joe would encourage him when he felt like quitting on his criminology degree in college. Of course he could have been a fire-fighter like his parents however, seeing his parents burning in the fire was not a pleasant sight, especially for an eight-year-old. He would be scarred by that day for the rest of his life. So, he took up the next occupation that had a 'saving lives' agenda - policing.

Joe had even been to his graduation to be the one to hang the medal around his neck. He had promised to give him a few pointers here and there. He remembered their conversation back then.

"I'm so proud of you son," Joe had said that day. Timo couldn't help but wish it to be true. That day, he could only imagine that his real father was the one who said those words to him. Still, whenever Joe called him 'son' out of habit, Timothy liked to pretend that he was his real father.

After they had retracted from each other, Joe opened his mouth to speak, but it seemed as though he chose to say something else instead.

"Why don't we grab some breakfast, huh? Waddaya say?" he suggested. Timo nodded his, his eyes gleaming.

The moment they entered the café, he was greeted by a warm feeling of comfort. They took a booth near the window and if he would close his eyes, Timo could imagine being transported back in time. With the soothing music playing in the phonograph near the entrance, he almost enjoyed the sound of the cars vrooming on the streets as if it were part of the music playing. He had never felt so much at peace for a long time

"You know you're not gonna have to drive that paddywagon your whole career." Joe was already back from the counter after ordering their food.

"Really?" Timothy said with disbelief -- excited disbelief. His eyes widened, wanting to hear more of this good news. Timo couldn't wait to ride a police motorcycle just like what Joe rides.

"Ooh yeah!" Joe continued with his encouragement. "You're a smart kid, hardworking even, with enough experience under your belt. You'll get promoted in no time, trust me sonny!"

"Hey look, our food's here." Joe pointed out.

The waitress delivering their food looks about Timo's age, perhaps a bit older. She had dark hair and green eyes. Her white skin seemed paler against her long dark hair. She announced their order as she set them on their table. She looked a lot like Candace, Timothy thought, except her eyes held a much sharper hue. Come to think of it, where was she at this time?

"One order of blueberry French toast, banana pancakes with maple syrup, vanilla espresso and mocha cappuccino."

"Order's complete messieurs, thank you for eating at Brews and Brimmers, do come again!" With this, she started back toward the counter.

"Dig in, son!"

"It is nice to relax a while, eh?" Joe said as he munched down his French toast, while Timo took a bite off of his pancakes. "When you're one of the NEPD, you always gotta be alert. You never know what emergency might hit and when it could ha--" he was cut off by the sound of the static coming from his radio on his belt.

"Calling all available units near Fifth Street and Eighth Street, code 10-80. Suspected perpetrators riding a red motorcycle down Sixth St--"

Timo did not bother to finish listening to the radio. He rushed outside but immediately stopped in his tracks as a dark-haired girl and boy zoomed past him, riding a red motorcycle.

It was as if time had stopped for them and his unorganized thoughts had drowned out the sounds of the world around him. Joe was right behind him. Timo, wait! He heard Joe calling his name trying to stop him from stealing and boarding his motorcycle, then the next thing he knew, he was zooming off to chase the culprits.

Timo would not lose his target. This could very well be the chance he was waiting for - the chance to be promoted and the chance of a one way ticket out of the drunk wagon. All he needed to do was to keep an eye on his targets and to catch them.

His best bet was to corner them so that they would have no choice but to surrender themselves. For now, he had to focus on not losing them in the sea of vehicles.

The sounds of the sirens and the horns of the cars around him were drowned by the rush of his adrenaline. The Commissioner might as well have his neck after this but it didn't matter. He knew that he should finish what he started, so he continued with the pursuit.

He steered left, avoiding collision with a black Chevrolet. Steered right. Steered right again then turned left into an alleyway, hoping to block them off with a shortcut.

The alleyway was damp and dark, but he knew these streets like the back of his hand. He raced past what seemed like the back door of an establishment.

"Ey watch it, mehn!" A dark-skinned man with a heavy accent bawled. Timo must have splashed him with mud. Whoops. Sorry.

Still, he didn't stop. He was out of the alleyways and now closer to his targets. The wind is strong and hard against his face. He was starting to regret not having made time to wear a helmet. He revved the engine as he sped faster, and in between two cars who were clearing the middle road. He felt his sweat forming fragile icicles as the cold wind was blowing stronger on his face now that he was riding faster.

Sirens. Again. If he was being pulled over because of reckless behavior, he didn't care. It didn't matter, as long as, in the end, he would be the one to catch the culprits.

The girl in the motorcycle was waving her arms in the air, screaming. Not quite. It was as if she was on a road trip, enjoying the wind blowing through her dark hair and soaking up the sun. She looked back at him and he'd almost imagined a smirk from her dark stained lips.

She almost looked beautiful. No, she was gorgeous, like a fire of different colors - wild.

Stop it. He shouldn't have thoughts like these. She was a criminal and besides, the boy riding with her is probably her lover.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

Focus. Focus. Focus. He told himself over and over again, like a mantra to get him back on track as he was straying.

They turned, their tires screeching, the silent avenue of halted vehicles echo the eerie high pitched noise.

Timo turned right as well, following their lead, making sure he does not lose them. He noticed the girl had already stopped her screaming fit but she only put her hands down just now. He imagined her looking back at him the second time.

They turned and ducked into an alleyway, which Timo knew to be a dead end. He tailed them, smirking.

I got you now. There was no escaping. Clearly, whoever they are, they did not know these streets as well as Timo did.

They sped faster, their revving engines roar through the alleyways, the huge backsides of the buildings providing good acoustics. Timo picked up his pace as well. He was so close. So close.

He could almost smell the dead end ultimately trapping them, and they'll have no escape.

Timo could already see the dark brick wall covered in graffiti and the red motorcycle was just a few feet away.

Why aren't they stopping?

He was starting to panic. He counted the seconds as they neared the brick wall.

10... 9... 8... They are speeding even more, covering a few more feet of distance with Timo.

7... 6... 5... 4... Are they about to kill themselves? Timo wondered, panicking. He knew of the suicide bombers in Iran, but this is worse than madness.

3... 2... 1... As soon as they hit the surface of the wall Timo hit his brake and shut his eyes. He heard the screech of his abrupt stop but what he didn't hear was the sound of a crash. He was waiting for the smell of blood and smoke and a burnt engine but he never did. Slowly, he peeled his eyes open then they widened incredulously.

They vanished! But how? It was a dead end. He thought. As he was trying to rearrange his thoughts however, sanity did not come to him on time as he found himself revving his engine back to life.

He heard sirens close behind him. Most probably a police car has already parked outside the alleyway and the riders are already on their way to find them. Of course they knew it was a dead end just as well as Timo did. Or so he thought.

"Rider no!" One of the policemen behind yelled. But he was too late. Timo was too caught up in his adrenaline rush to stop and think.

He took a deep breath, wondering if it would be his last. He stepped on the gas, hard, and he was feeling the wind on his face again as he zoomed towards the brick wall. He expected the worst, but it never came.

All he saw was pitch black, then he lost consciousness at the sight of a piercing bright light.

~**~

[Word Count: 3424 words]

Heya, I hope you enjoyed this part! 

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-axeli ❤️