Bolting upright in bed, Jackie awoke to her phone vibrating endlessly. Under the tousled mess of her hair, the remnants of sleep clung to her. The weariness of staying up late the night before lingered in her bones, robbing her of the rejuvenating hours of rest she'd become so accustomed to.
She fumbled around her bed, tossing aside the cover and sheets—her eyes barely open as she sought out her cell phone. With a flip, she opened it, not bothering to check who was calling.
"Hello?" she answered, her voice groggy with sleep.
"Jackie? Jackie, are you alright?"
"Uncle Kota? What's going on? What are those sirens in the background?"
"It's the kingdom's emergency broadcast system. It's reported that Auclair Parish is under siege by two large groups of unknown individuals. I have a bad feeling about this one, kid."
The shocking news hit Jackie like a jolt of electricity, instantly snapping her wide awake. With a sense of urgency, she sprung out of bed and began hastily dressing, her mind racing with questions and her body coursing with action. Even with all that, there was only one question she bothered to ask.
"You calling me into the field, old man? This smells like a hefty reward to me."
Chief Nkosi let out a sigh. "Money isn't everything you know."
"Not true, Uncle. Money makes the world go round. In fact, I'd bet my eye you're sitting on money right now." Her hair momentarily parted to reveal her right eye.
The chief looked down at the chair he was sitting on. A smooth wooden rolling chair with the softest cushions money could buy. He'd been working for the police department since he was a young man. He worked his way up to becoming the chief of police in the kingdom's capital after fifteen years, adding up to a grand total of thirty-six career years as a law enforcer. The relentless hours of overtime and manual labor in his younger years had caught up to him and the normal desk chairs just weren't supportive enough for his aging bones.
"Jackie O'Hara, you always were too wise for your own good. Your father and you,"
"Had that in common. So I've heard."
Jackie cut in, finishing his sentence. She'd lost count of how many times she'd heard that line throughout her life. It never annoyed her, though. If anything, it motivated her. She hoped that one day she'd hear someone say she had surpassed him. It was her family's belief that each generation was to surpass the previous—something she was reminded of in that moment.
"I take it this means I have permission to break out the Catalyst if I'm going to arrive on scene in time to be of any use, correct?"
"No holds barred. I've sent two groups of enforcements out and let them know you'll be arriving around the time they do," Chief Nkosi assured, his calm and confident demeanor resonating over the phone.
Despite the weight of the task at hand, he displayed unwavering trust in Jackie's capabilities.
"You'll have to choose which one to back up, as I've stationed them according to the intel we have on their movement. One in the south and one in the west. Take your pick, and I'll prioritize sending reinforcements to the latter."
"Sheesh, you let them know I'd be coming before you even called? What if I was busy today?"
"You may be retired on paper, but I know there's no way you'd allow yourself to be absent during an emergency like this. Not to mention how close they are to home. I know how you like to maintain a certain level of safety for business."
"You got that right. The nicer an area, the more I can reasonably raise rent," she said jokingly.
"Said like a true businesswoman," the chief joked back. "Anyway, you know I hate to ask, but I have a feeling that Auclair will need you at the forefront of this incident."
As she continued to gain information from the chief, she found herself behind her house. She stood smugly, sipping from the straw of an apple juice box in front of a detached garage—a compact structure resembling a large shed. With her phone snug between her cheek and shoulder, she unlocked its doors. The hint of oil and dust instantly hit her as a dim light flickered on, revealing smooth concrete floors and a concealed vehicle beneath a protective cover.
"Well, who's the commander in Auclair these days? And which direction is he stationed in?"
"His name is Commander LaCroix. He became commander just last year, and his men respect him very much. I had him and his men station themselves to the south."
"Oh, he already sounds better than Commander Arrogant over at your department."
"Speaking of, I can't seem to get in touch with Commander Fortier or any other officer on transport duty. I'd hate to think the timing of Theodore Crowler's transport is related to the situation, but it's likely they're just in a dead zone outside of the kingdom's signal. Nevertheless, my men will be following your lead once you arrive. Guide them well."
Pulling away the sheet revealed the vehicle beneath: the Catalyst M1—the first and only model ever made of its kind. Though there are other versions, this was the first one ever made—a one-of-a-kind motorcycle that, despite its age, is considered an antique at the Catalyst Motorcycle Company.
Throwing her leg over the bike, she settled into the seat.
"Alright, I think I've got a good sense of the situation. I'll be heading south since it's closer, and it'll save me time."
"I figured you would. Stay safe, and as usual, the department will treat this as if you're an independent contractor. You can expect a big payday from this one, kid. Back me up in the west with LaCroix when you're done so we can finish this thing and confirm details. This one's going to require an extensive report."
"I'm on it."
With a decisive click, she ended the call. Folding her phone shut, she slid it into the storage compartment behind the seat.
"Hello, handsome. Did you miss me?" she teased, igniting the engine. "Let's see, revolver? Check," she said, feeling the shoulder holster tighten around her upper torso. "Ammunition belt with speed loaders?" She opened a pack attached to the belt around her waist and looked inside. "Check."
Should I tell Noir I'm leaving? she pondered as she lifted the kickstand. No, I'll let him rest. Besides, he doesn't need to be involved with any of this.
With that, she eased onto the main road, securing her helmet before taking off, turning sharply at the end of the road. But contrary to what she believed, Noir was already up and working. As he diligently swept the seating area at the entrance of the spa and wiped down the windows, he glanced up at the sound of something approaching.
His eyes locked onto Jackie just as she placed her helmet over her head. In that fleeting moment, he spotted an unexpected expression on her face. Departing from the confidence she spoke with on the phone, her expression seemed somewhat sad.
Curious as to why she looked this way, Noir abandoned his tasks and chose to speak to her. But, by the time he got to the door, she had already taken off. That wouldn't stop him, though. He was determined to understand what had caused Jackie to look this way.
Noir had plenty of experience tracking animals through the swamp, and Jackie had left behind a few things that would help him track her. Skid marks on the road, a unique smell in the air, and the faint zipping sound of her motorcycle in the distance.
The expression on her face, along with the events of the previous night, filled his thoughts as he followed the sound of her bike fading away.
"Noir."
The soft tone of Jackie's voice lingered in his mind, a reminder of the night before.