Inside the immaculate cockpit of the black snurd all was calm. The Interceptor was a prototype, a secret piece of Grongolian hardware, commissioned and built for the military. It had been in testing for over a year and when it eventually went into production a less sophisticated version would be used by the security forces. Higher spec models would be used by ministers, government officials and upper echelon ruling party members.
However, none of the production models – even the most lavish – would achieve the levels of sophistication present in this one.
Despite the chaos going on outside, little could be heard inside but the gentle thrumming of the engine and the breathing of the occupant. His suede-clad hands squeezed the steering wheel. As usual, he was wearing rings on the outside of his gloves. The jewels caught the light. The most recent acquisition, a huge, red ruby, particularly pleased him. He held his hand up and moved it this way and that. Centuries old, it glowed in the soft light, feeling heavy with the weight of tradition. He smiled to himself.
“First this ring and now the Mervinettes.” He breathed a sigh of something approaching ecstasy and waved the hand with the ruby on it casually. “Two life goals in one week.”
And then he laughed. A quiet, malicious laugh – with a touch of smugness – because nobody outran the Interceptor. A pair of cold, grey eyes stared through the windscreen at the MK II in the road ahead. No need for sunglasses to hide that distinctive colour in here. The blackened glass assured anonymity.
“Do you know me?” he asked them. “No. But soon you will learn who I am.”