Meteor Kingdom lags behind its neighboring counterparts in technological advancement, most notably the powerhouse of innovation, Akrion City. As the continent's leading manufacturing hub, Akrion spearheads global technological progress, continuously pushing the boundaries of modern development.
Despite Akrion's repeated efforts to establish trade relations, Meteor Kingdom—under the leadership of Mother Nature—has steadfastly declined their offers. This reluctance, however, predates her governance. Long before her arrival, the kingdom was renowned for its fertile soil and diverse ecosystem, home to exotic plant and animal life found nowhere else in the world. To protect these natural wonders, Meteor Kingdom has resisted the widespread adoption of motorized vehicles and other disruptive technologies that might threaten its balance.
Beyond environmental concerns, the kingdom embraces a slower, more deliberate way of life, valuing harmony with nature and the present moment. This cultural philosophy is not a limitation but a conscious choice—one that defines the Meteor Kingdom's identity and reinforces its commitment to preserving the beauty and rhythm of its world.
Despite Meteor Kingdom's generally peaceful nature, there are moments when truly rotten individuals surface, wreaking havoc and compelling the kingdom to take decisive action—escorting them to a private prison known as Purgatory.
The atmosphere shifted abruptly as shackles clanked and scraped against the hot concrete. A lone prisoner was loaded into the back of a transport truck behind the CPD, marking another dark chapter in the kingdom's otherwise tranquil history.
"Commander Fortier, radio in once you pass through the gates of Purgatory Prison," instructed Chief Nkosi.
"Yes, sir," Fortier replied crisply. "Officer Daniels, Newbie, you'll be tagging along with me today."
Stammering over his words, Newbie jumped to attention. "Y-yes, sir! Right away!"
"Sheesh, Newbie, calm down. The Dread Hunter is getting locked in Purgatory, not you." Officer Daniels patted him on the shoulder as he jogged past. "I call the front seat!"
"Well, I guess that means you'll be sitting in the back with me and the transfer, Newbie," said Officer Braun, walking up beside him.
"Officer Braun, you're coming too?"
"Got that right. I'm one of the constants in the prisoner transfers. I'm always one of the guards aboard to make sure nothing suspicious happens—things the personnel up front might miss."
"Enough chit-chat; let's get this over with," Fortier snapped, clearly irritated. "Daniels, you're driving." He tossed the keys to Daniels without a second glance.
"Yes, sir!" Braun and Newbie replied simultaneously as they hastened their pace, loading into the back of the armored truck with Theo.
Daniels' eyes lit up with childlike wonder. "Aw, snap! I always wanted to drive this thing!"
With two resounding bangs on the roof from Braun, signaling the sealed closure of the doors, the crew was off.
THE NARROW ROAD LEADING OUT OF THE KINGDOM UNFOLDED BETWEEN expansive crop fields claimed by Meteor Kingdom. Despite its seemingly straightforward path, the road stretched endlessly, gradually obscuring the view of civilization itself. The hum of the transport truck's tires against the ground filled the air with a sense of anticipation.
"So, how long does it take to get to Purgatory from the kingdom?" asked Newbie.
"About–"
"About ten hours there, ten hours back. But I heard the vehicles from Akrion are so fast they can make it there in half the time, and they're just about the same distance away," Theo interrupted, adding his unsolicited input.
"Hey, shut up. He wasn't talking to you." Braun crossed his arms as he spoke, his eyes closed in indifference.
Newbie wondered how he could be so relaxed in the presence of a dangerous prisoner, especially one with such an unsettling aura. The armored truck's interior felt cramped, and the air was thick with a sense of confinement and uncertainty. Every jolt of the vehicle sent a shiver down his spine, making him question the wisdom of being assigned to this particular task.
As the kingdom disappeared from view, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was entering a realm where the rules were different—a place where there was nothing but open land for miles, leaving them at a disadvantage. A land where, if danger came, help wouldn't arrive—not in time, at least.
Theo leaned back, a wry smile playing on his lips. "No harm meant, Officer Braun. I didn't hear him say any names, so I thought I'd answer the question."
Braun sucked his teeth. "I keep telling them we need to put you Purgatory transfers in muzzles."
"We're not mutts now, Officer Braun. We prisoners are humans, just like you. We might've walked different paths in life, but we still bleed the same blood and have the same vices. In fact," Theo paused, sniffing the air, "it smells like you partook in yours before we left, didn't you?"
Braun's jaw tensed as he shot Theo a stern look. "I said, shut it!"
Undeterred, Theo chuckled, his gaze fixed on the officer. "Alright, alright, no need to get all worked up. But, I must say, Purgatory is a dreary topic. A little conversation can make the journey feel much less... terminal."
Sliding open a small slotted window from the front, Commander Fortier intervened. "Hey! What's going on back here?"
"N-nothing, sir!" Newbie shouted, terrified by the commander's sudden presence.
"Officer Braun, I expect you to keep things quiet and under control back here. Do I need to get you transferred to patrol duty?"
"No, sir."
Patrol duty in Crescent Parish was probably the most boring job an officer could have. With the lack of action in the capital, the job mostly involved walking around and letting your presence be known. If you were lucky, you'd get a vehicle with a fan to sit in. The monotony of patrolling the calm streets contrasted sharply with the tension building inside the armored truck as it continued its journey toward Purgatory.
Yet again, Braun shot a quick glance at Theo, a stern expression on his face. "You heard the man. Keep it quiet or you'll be dealing with me."
Theo, however, chuckled once again. "Like a stroll in the park, Officer Braun."
As the journey continued, the transport truck rumbled along the narrow road. Officer Braun's head leaned back with little to no fight, cradled by the rhythmic hum of the vehicle. The soft lullaby of the engine created a deceptive sense of calmness, and before long, the seasoned officer drifted into slumber.
The sight of his superior in a state of repose created a feeling of awkwardness for Newbie. He felt alone and unsafe in the presence of Theo.
"Uhh, Officer Braun?" Newbie stammered, attempting to stand but was thwarted by an unexpected bump in the road that sent him back into his seat.
"An effect of the vice, kid," Theo chimed in from across the truck. "I gotta give 'em props for keeping his act together. If I hadn't smelled the hard liquor on his breath, even I wouldn't have been able to tell. Not at first anyway. Just look at his uniform." He nodded toward Braun as he spoke. "His top three buttons aren't even buttoned correctly, and he couldn't even manage to put his belt on properly, which is strange because it definitely took more time to knot it the way he did."
The revelation lingered in the air, shattering the naive notion that duty would consistently be a dependable companion in the realm of law enforcement.
"That's a big man right there, kid, put under by nothing more than a drink or two. I bet you he's one of the toughest cops in the capital's force, and yet, look at him. He's sleeping as sound as a kitten."
"Um, I don't think–"
"He's as solidly built as the truck we're riding in. I mean, just look at it—a mobile fortress, impenetrable and formidable. But you know what?" Theo asked Newbie.
Newbie didn't want to know, but he had a sinking feeling that his preferences didn't carry much weight in this situation.
"Even a fortress has vulnerabilities. Its effectiveness is only as reliable as the individuals operating it. An armored truck is similar to the government you and your buddies seem so fascinated by. It might look powerful, even imposing, but it relies on fragile individuals. And those individuals are the ones who define the nature of the beast it becomes." Theo paused, glancing at Braun. "But what happens when you remove the individual?"
Theo's eyes darkened as he looked back toward the front. "Well, you get stagnation. An empty shell. Just a suit of armor with no one to man it. Its intended purpose is gone."
His words hung heavy in the air, followed by the sudden, deafening crack of gunfire. A bullet pierced the windshield, its trajectory unerringly accurate, and struck Officer Daniels directly in the chest.
"Daniels!" Fortier's bellow reverberated through the truck. The shock of his officer's unexpected demise crashed over him as their blood splattered across his face. A metallic tang filled the air, and a wave of horror flooded his senses.
Newbie yanked open the sliding window, panic tightening his throat. "Commander! What's going on? Is everything okay?"
But before Fortier could even gather himself to respond, a series of pops shattered the air—one, two, three, four. The truck lurched violently as all four tires blew out, the result of spike traps tossed onto the road. The vehicle veered into a wild, uncontrollable swerve before flipping onto its side with a sickening crunch of metal.
Rowdy screams erupted outside, a discordant chorus of chaos that disrupted the smooth afternoon. The wrecked transport truck now lay like a gutted carcass, its broken frame exposing its passengers to the unwavering gaze of an army of Dread Hunters.
Newbie gasped for breath, tangled in his seatbelt, his limbs sluggish from the impact. His ears rang, but through the haze, one sound was unmistakable—the screams from outside. They carried through the open air, raw and unfiltered, each one clawing at his nerves. And nothing terrified him more than the thought of those screams drawing closer.
Through the missing back doors, he caught glimpses of movement—shadows shifting, figures closing in. The Dread Hunters circled the wreck like wolves scenting wounded prey, their motorcycles growling beneath them.
Commander Fortier stirred, pain twitching through his body. Blood coated him—some his own, most from the lifeless body of Officer Daniels sprawled above him. Disoriented, he shoved the door open, dragging himself past his fallen comrade and out of the cab. He pulled himself onto the side of the overturned truck, swaying unsteadily as his vision cleared.
The Dread Hunters surrounded them in a slow, deliberate formation, their headlights carving streaks of light through the dust-choked air. At the center of it all, one figure loomed about.
Neil.
"This wasn't the plan," Fortier gasped, struggling to force the words out. "This wasn't—" He paused, chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. Gathering what strength he had left, he bellowed, "This wasn't part of the plan!"
Neil smirked, unfazed. He flicked his cigarette aside, dropping his kickstand and strolled toward the wreck. His fingers traced the jagged bullet hole in the windshield.
"See that?" He glanced over his shoulder at his men. "Told you it'd pierce. Meteor Kingdom's so-called armored trucks are toys compared to Akrion's. You use the right firearm, and the windshield might as well be paper."
His attention shifted to Fortier, amusement flickering in his eyes. "The hell happened to you?"
Fortier's jaw clenched. "You killed him. My officer. You killed him."
Neil crouched, peering through the ruined windshield at the lifeless form of Officer Daniels. "Hm." He exhaled sharply, straightening. "Good thing you weren't the one driving, Commander."
"We agreed—" Fortier's voice cracked with fury. "We agreed there would be no killing!"
Neil moved before Fortier could react, seizing him by the front of his uniform. With a sharp yank, he hauled him off the wreck and sent him sprawling onto the terrain.
Fortier hit the ground hard, coughing as dust filled his lungs. Before he could recover, Neil knelt beside him, pressing a firm finger to his chest.
"I suggest you bottle up that anger," he murmured, his voice edged with warning. "Save it for what you intended it for. Would be a shame to snuff out that little flicker of rage before it gets put to good use."
Then, without missing a beat, he straightened, sweeping the wreckage.
"Theo!" he called out through the chaos. "Theo, where are you?"
Theo stirred at the sound of his brother's voice, his head throbbing from the crash. He swallowed, tasting blood, and whispered, "In here."
Before he could say another word, something strong and hard slammed into him.
Officer Braun.
The seasoned officer pounced like a rabid animal, fists hammering down in a relentless assault.
"You Dread Hunters are nothing but trouble," Braun snarled between blows. "I'll make sure you and your brother get a reunion—next to each other in a grave."
Theo coughed, spitting blood onto Braun's face with a rasping chuckle. "I've kidnapped wealthy brats that hit harder than you."
Braun's nostrils flared. "You son of a–"
His hand shot to his hip, fingers fumbling with the holster. The click of a hammer being pulled back rang out like a death knell.
"Tell me how this hits," Braun growled.
Then—a gunshot.
Braun froze. His grip slackened. His breath hitched—then faded.
His revolver tumbled from his grasp as he crumpled forward, collapsing onto Theo's chest like a felled tree.
Newbie sat frozen. His wide eyes locked onto the bleeding mess in front of him, paralyzed as terror coursed through his body. Every instinct screamed at him to run—to do something—but his body refused to move. Not that he could, even if he wanted to; he was still stuck in the straps of his seatbelt, after all.
Instead, he played dead, surrendering to fear.
As if the truck wasn't the only thing the crash had claimed.
"I always did enjoy smoked pork," Neil sneered, as he nudged Braun's corpse with his boot. His eyes glinted like glass under flame.
Theo grunted, shoving the dead weight off his chest. He reached up, clasping his brother's hand with a bloodied grin. "What took you so long?"
Neil pulled him up with ease. "I'm right on time, little brother. What'd you want me to do—bust into the department like a maniac? Even I know better than that."
Theo dusted himself off. "So what is going on?"
"I had a chat with your beloved commander. We struck a deal: he hands you over once you're out of sight of the kingdom, and in return, we raid one of the parishes."
Theo blinked. "You serious? What's in it for him? And how is launching a full-scale raid smarter than breaking me out in broad daylight?"
Neil shrugged. "Revenge, maybe. Man's carrying a grudge the size of Crescent Parish. Doesn't matter. Most of the kingdom's forces are tied up in the capital for the governor's conference."
He grinned. "That leaves the parishes wide open. And unlike before, now we've got an army of Hunters behind us. That's what makes this smart—we'll be taking them completely by surprise."
"So we're making deals with cops now?" Theo asked, eyeing his brother with raised brows.
Neil smirked and handed him a worn, pinched-front cattleman hat. "If the price is right, right?"
Theo took the hat, smoothed the brim, and set it on his head. "Well then, what are we waiting for? Let's go collect what we're owed."
Outside, Neil faced the horde of Dread Hunters he'd rallied from every crevice of the kingdom. The wind kicked up dust as he raised his voice.
"Listen up! Now that my brother's back, we're moving into phase two. Next stop—Auclair Parish. We hit it hard, we hit it fast, and we take anything that looks like it'll fetch a good price."
The crowd erupted, voices layered in rage and anticipation, hungry for what was to come.
Theo glanced sideways at him. "Since when did you become a strategist?"
Neil chuckled, the kind of laugh that said he was proud but not about to admit it. "Might've had help from the Marketeer."
"The man himself, huh?" Theo adjusted the brim of his hat. "That means we'll owe him."
"Big time."
Theo nodded. "Then let's not waste another second. Let's get this plan of yours underway."
As the brothers prepared to depart, Theo couldn't help but notice the fingerprints of the Marketeer all over the plan. Neil wasn't a strategist—he was a hammer, not the hand that swung it. Whatever was coming for the parishes, it was clear someone else had drawn the blueprints. The Marketeer had fed Neil the playbook, page by page, and now they were charging into mayhem with blind confidence.
In full force, the Dread Hunters rolled out, making their way back to the kingdom.
Behind them, Commander Fortier staggered from the wreckage, disoriented.
"Hey, wait a minute!" he shouted after the departing motorcycles. "How the hell am I supposed to get back?" Frustration carved lines into his face as he balled his fists. "You damned Dread Hunters!"
A hoggish voice answered him. "Hey, don't you worry, commander." A man stepped forward—massive like a mammoth, with a deep voice that rumbled through your chest. "Goliath will get you where you need to go."
Fortier turned to face him—and immediately looked as if he regretted asking.
Not long after Goliath and Fortier sped off for the kingdom.
The truck groaned under its own weight. A low rumble echoed inside the wreckage, followed by the metallic scrape of movement.
Newbie, still dazed and trembling, stirred in the debris. The silence was eerie now, broken only by the creaks of the battered frame and the distant sound of fading engines.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small knife, and began sawing at the twisted seatbelt pinning him in place. The blade slipped more than it cut, slicing into his fingers more than the nylon, but after several jagged tears, the belt gave way.
He stumbled forward, his limbs refusing to work together. As he reached the open doorway, he slipped and fell on his hands, catching himself in a puddle.
The liquid felt warm, thick. Panic seized him as he looked down at his hands, slick with blood.
"I–is this…" his voice trembled as he stared at his hands. "Officer Braun." The name barely escaped his lips before he scrambled out of the truck and doubled over, vomiting onto the grass. The stench of death—thick, and final—was already in the air.
Why is this happening? he thought, just before another wave surged from his stomach and hit the dirt like a projectile. I want to go home. This isn't what I signed up for. He wiped his mouth with a shaky sleeve. I thought being an officer would be easy. Safe. Something to do until retirement. This is Meteor Kingdom, for crying out loud. Nothing bad ever really happens here.
As doubt and panic clouded his mind, a single, sharp thought cut through the noise: Wait a minute. Nobody knows they're coming.
Eyes wide, Newbie spun around and scrambled toward the front of the truck. He caught sight of Officer Daniels slumped over the steering wheel and immediately turned his head, vomiting again with a guttural choke. Tears stung his eyes, but he pressed forward, adrenaline now guiding his limbs.
He began kicking at the cracked windshield, each hit jarring his leg, until it finally splintered open. With careful, trembling hands, he reached through the opening, unlocking the front console.
The radio… Please let it still work.
He snatched the receiver and yelled into it, "Hello?! Hello?! This is Officer Newbie of the Crescent Parish Police Department! Chief, are you there?! Please respond! They're coming!"
The line crackled with life, but no reply came.
Only silence.
Newbie's heart sank.
Unbeknownst to him, the Dread Hunters had calculated every detail—including trapping the transport within a known dead zone, cutting off all outgoing signals. The radio was alive.
But no one could hear him.
"Dang it!" Newbie shook his head. "I have to report this. I have to warn the department... They're going to raid Auclair. And Commander…" His voice faltered as his eyes locked onto Officer Daniels' lifeless body. His breath hitched, the weight of betrayal heavy on his chest. "Commander Fortier's on their side. He turned on his own men. It's unforgivable."
A pulse of rage swelled in him, burning away the numbness that had crept into his bones. This wasn't just about survival anymore. This was about justice. His gut twisted at the thought of Fortier aligning with those monsters. He couldn't let it stand.
He pushed himself to his feet, clenching his fists until his knuckles ached. Without a moment's hesitation, he turned and ran, each step driven by the need to stop the bloodshed. He knew he couldn't catch up to the Dread Hunters on foot—he wasn't stupid—but if he could just make it to one of the departments, or find a radio with a signal, maybe—just maybe—he could stop Fortier before he set his plan in motion. Before Auclair was bled dry.