closed/complete.
WHO: Unsuspecting victims.
WHAT: A warning.
WHERE: Outside of Turk Headquarters.
WHEN: Day 155, midday.
11:36 PM.
Bruno was a simple man of simple tastes. He was a truck driver, accustomed to a driving a long road, enduring the daily grind, and making minimum wage. The job wasn't much, but it paid the bills and fed his pregnant wife. And while the company manager was unarguably anal retentive and stingy-- always trying to get a transport contract from the big companies-- there were certain perks, even to his job.
One of those perks was the powerful red truck sitting outside the rest stop, glinting in the afternoon sun. Her name was Elise. Eight wheels, totaling several tens of thousands of pounds. A veritable titan, serving the truck company for nearly eight years, though the hula dancer on the vehicle's dashboard was considerably newer.
"Bruno!" A coworker, Lucas perhaps, clapped a large hand on Bruno's shoulder. "I thought you'd left already, man. Not driving Elise today?"
"Not driving Elise?" Bruno replied with a short, deep laugh, lifting a hand to gesture out the window to where he had parked his truck. "Don't be ridiculous, you know I always--"
11:58 PM.
Elise was well over the speed-limit, though through no fault of her own. Whose fault it was, however, was unclear.
She was flying down the highway, unmanned.
12:00 PM.
"Did you see that, Isabella?"
"What, Toni? I'm busy. You know Mama said we can't go to the docks today if we don't finish our chores."
Toni scrunched his nose faintly, waiting until his sister had turned back to the laundry to stick his tongue out at her. Fine. Isabella had never been any fun anyways-- he would tell his best friend Marcus about what he'd seen: a red truck, with a large blue smiley face painted on the side.
12:14.
The sign in the grass read Turk Headquarters. Or rather, it did, until the front of the stolen red truck rammed through it, making an inevitable bath towards the building looming ahead. The security cameras must have been it coming-- must have been the blue logo, printed like a declaration on the vehicle's side-- but stopping a several ton semi-truck was no easy business.
But strangely enough, there was no impact. No vicious crushing of walls, no bulldozed employees. Bruno's truck rolled to a stop in front of the headquarters, her engine humming as she let out a steady stream of smog.
Silence.
12:16.
The building rocked with the force of the explosion, when Elise met her end at the hands of a homemade bomb, all fire and brimstone.
WHAT: A warning.
WHERE: Outside of Turk Headquarters.
WHEN: Day 155, midday.
11:36 PM.
Bruno was a simple man of simple tastes. He was a truck driver, accustomed to a driving a long road, enduring the daily grind, and making minimum wage. The job wasn't much, but it paid the bills and fed his pregnant wife. And while the company manager was unarguably anal retentive and stingy-- always trying to get a transport contract from the big companies-- there were certain perks, even to his job.
One of those perks was the powerful red truck sitting outside the rest stop, glinting in the afternoon sun. Her name was Elise. Eight wheels, totaling several tens of thousands of pounds. A veritable titan, serving the truck company for nearly eight years, though the hula dancer on the vehicle's dashboard was considerably newer.
"Bruno!" A coworker, Lucas perhaps, clapped a large hand on Bruno's shoulder. "I thought you'd left already, man. Not driving Elise today?"
"Not driving Elise?" Bruno replied with a short, deep laugh, lifting a hand to gesture out the window to where he had parked his truck. "Don't be ridiculous, you know I always--"
11:58 PM.
Elise was well over the speed-limit, though through no fault of her own. Whose fault it was, however, was unclear.
She was flying down the highway, unmanned.
12:00 PM.
"Did you see that, Isabella?"
"What, Toni? I'm busy. You know Mama said we can't go to the docks today if we don't finish our chores."
Toni scrunched his nose faintly, waiting until his sister had turned back to the laundry to stick his tongue out at her. Fine. Isabella had never been any fun anyways-- he would tell his best friend Marcus about what he'd seen: a red truck, with a large blue smiley face painted on the side.
12:14.
The sign in the grass read Turk Headquarters. Or rather, it did, until the front of the stolen red truck rammed through it, making an inevitable bath towards the building looming ahead. The security cameras must have been it coming-- must have been the blue logo, printed like a declaration on the vehicle's side-- but stopping a several ton semi-truck was no easy business.
But strangely enough, there was no impact. No vicious crushing of walls, no bulldozed employees. Bruno's truck rolled to a stop in front of the headquarters, her engine humming as she let out a steady stream of smog.
Silence.
12:16.
The building rocked with the force of the explosion, when Elise met her end at the hands of a homemade bomb, all fire and brimstone.