Dawn in Empire City

The sun crept over the skyline, over the towers that house the rich. The time the light reached Emily’s cramped apartment, she was still glued to her phone. Hours had bled into dawn.

Her eyes stung. Her mind buzzed from an entire night wasted on social media. A flicker of regret passed through her, but there was no going back. She shoved the phone into her pocket, grabbed her jacket, and stepped into the hallway.

Downstairs, her car groaned awake on the second try. She guided it out into the gray morning streets toward Johnny’s place.

A few minutes later, she rolled onto Broadway Bridge without hitting her blinker.

The siren came instantly—sharp, electric, undeniable. White and red flashed in her rear-view mirror

.“...Fuck me,” she muttered.

She pulled over.

The ECPD cruiser’s loudspeaker crackled to life. “ECPD. Out of the car. Now.”

Her hand slipped under her jacket. The Luger was cold, solid, certain. She raised it, fired one shot, one officer down. The other scrambled from the passenger side, firing wild. Every bullet missed.

Emily slammed the gas. The countryside blurred into view. The stolen police radio on her dash hissed:

“We have an assault on an officer. Suspect driving a white SUV, heading north into the countryside.”

Another cruiser appeared on the bridge ahead. Emily swerved hard, tires screaming. In her rear-view, the cop looped into a U-turn, leaving black marks on the pavement.

She grabbed her phone. “Vicktor, I’ve got pigs on me. Countryside.”“Of course! Meet me at the beer store.”

The line went dead.

She blew through an intersection at full throttle. Seconds later, two ECPD cruisers sealed it off behind her. The trailing cop smashed through them and kept coming.

She skidded to a stop at the beer store. Vicktor jumped into the passenger seat without a word.

The cops were already there.

Vicktor racked his shotgun and fired through the windshield of the pursuing cruiser—both officers slumped over in a spray of glass.

“I’LL RIP YOUR FUCKING HEART OUT!” he roared.

“Calm down, V,” Emily snapped, wrenching the wheel.

“All units, N47th Street. Backup needed. Gunfire permitted.”

They tore downhill. Another shot from Vicktor shredded a tire, sending a cruiser spinning into a ditch.

Emily banked right, only to see more flashing lights ahead. She ducked left into heavier traffic, sliding in behind a delivery truck. The cops sped past, hunting a ghost.

“Suspect last seen at N47th. Possibly heading east.”

Emily slipped into an alley. Overhead, rotors thundered—a police chopper swept the street they’d just escaped.

“Air support heading south. No visual.”

Relief bled into the cabin.

They emerged slowly, falling in behind another cruiser. When it turned right, Emily turned left into Rick’s Auto Repair.

Inside, they bought a black paintbomb.

SPLAT.

The SUV rolled out disguised, stopping at a red light. Across the intersection, a cruiser idled, nose to nose with them.

Green. Emily floored it. Sirens howled again.

“Suspect in a black SUV—eastbound.”

She ducked into a narrow alley, down a hidden stairwell that jolted the car. Reverse gear groaned as she tucked deep into the shadows.

An engine approached. A cruiser rolled past the alley mouth… then turned away.

“Suspect lost. Call off the search.”

They didn’t breathe until they were back at Johnny’s. Morning tea was late, but it was what it was.