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Flash Fiction story made using 80s Cliche Tropes:

Cut to a car chase. Black glistening roads, rain clouds for twenty years. It hasn’t stopped once. Brightly lit sky blue neon street signs whiz by as Officer Alex “Rex” Thunder peruses the suspect from street to street dodging traffic.

Both street and sky sidewalks are densely packed with spectators in the latest Illumination Wear. Neon red and green clothing appear as light smudges when racing down the city streets at 450mph.

Screens on most buildings advertise products for sale. The new watch that’ll control your car. Self-warming jacket. But here and there you see the chase displayed on the side of news station buildings. They follow its development from hover cars above the tallest towers.

For five years Rex has followed the clues never expecting it to lead to this person, a close friend. Working alone on the case and fueled only by the hunger for revenge he finally found where this friend hid.

The suspect’s silhouette jumps from the car and darts into a nightclub, “Juicies” displayed in blinding red letters on the business’s face. He disappears behind the crowd of neatly lit people.

The dark cloud lingering over New Neo City forced fashion trends to lean towards bright clothing that lights up to compensate for the everlasting night. Designers frenzied over the possibility and dubbed the city The Dark Fashion Capital. Within ten years the city’s fashion had morphed into an entirely new beast in business and tourism and dragged in criminal business along with it.

Rex leaves the police cruiser half on the sidewalk with lights on and doors open on his way into the club. Tightened black bandana and laser pistol drawn, he races into a spotlessly white walled hangout, lights flashing all over. A synthwave pulse from the electric bass drums hypnotize the crowd, rainbow lit dance floor riddle with a colorful cultural crusterfuck moving in sync to the rhythm. The suspect’s silhouette and Rex notice each other through the dancers and the chase is on again. The suspect dashes and weaves between the crowds. They offer enough resistance to give Rex a slight gaining advantage.

They’re heading for the back exit. The suspect kicks the door open and continues through the alley interrupting a drug exchange between a blond suit and a leather jacket Mohawk on the other end. Crime is rampant in this city. The dark shadows of the storm conceal the shady exchanges in alleys and under abandon bridges. The silhouette tosses trashcans and glass bottles back in hopes of slowing Rex, but nothing could ever.

The suspect heads for the escalators to the skyway and snatches a gas mask off of a random passerby. He enters the toxic polluted skies of New Neo City.  

Rex makes it to the top of the stairs maskless, breath held, and takes one from a woman about to head back down to the clean air. “Run,” he tells her and continues pursuit through the most densely populated part of the city, the skyway.

Sidewalks up here are made of a see-through metal suspended along the side of all building the altitude of the shortest ones, fifty stories. It’s a tall city. The tallest and most common buildings are in the hundreds stories. Starting above the ninetieth a black cloud too thick to see the sky scrapers top floors blocks out the entire sky.

The chase squeezes through tens of dozens of people in the busy city. Hover cars and millions of faint simultaneous voices drown out most other noise. It’s the ambient soundtrack when heard with the thumping hypno-electro beats radiating from pop culture stores. It’s the downtown shopping center in the sky. The crowds begin to split down the middle opening way for Rex to catch up. Panicking the suspect rushes into another alley, but this one turns out to be a dead end.

Back to the wall, the suspect drops to his knees and removes his mask. It’s Henry, an informant who used to work with Rex and his partner Johnny. “What do you want, man? What the fuck do you want?” he asks.

“I want you to bring my partner back!” Rex yells.

“That was five years ago. You have to let things go! That was business as usual. You know how it goes!” Henry says.

“Who were you working for, Henry?” Rex puts hit laser pistol barrel to Henry’s head.

“I was working for no one other than you, Boss, come on.” Henry says.

“Okay, have it you way.” Rex releases the trigger safety and put his finger over the trigger.

“Ricky Rambo! Ricky Rambo! He paid. He did it. I was working for him!” Henry panics out the name scared Rex would pull the trigger.

Rex Pistol whips Henry unconscious and walks off to search for this Ricky Rambo.

To Be Continued!