07-13-2019, 02:34 AM
The Man on The Seawall
June 7th, 1991
8:24 AM
Tofino, Zian, Zamastan
Cool sea breeze flowed gently with the mist through the early morning Tofino streets, clogged with traffic as commuters began their treks to work, parents bringing their kids to school, and pedestrians choked the sidewalks. The bustling city was darkened by the light fog, which hung low to the lower floors of the towering skyscrapers.
Frank Hast, a 33-year old construction worker contracted at the Market Exchange on Portman Avenue, sat in the passenger seat of his family van with his wife, Alice, in the drivers seat, and his 7-year old son, Eric, and 5-year old daughter, Janessa, in the back. The parents often brought their kids to school in favor of putting them on the buses, as the business of the city was often hectic for the little ones. However, today, they regretted the over abundance of traffic, and were stuck in a dead stop several blocks from the school.
Unknown to his wife and kids, Hast was a member of an underground militia group. Small, yet known by the Zamastan government for a string of mail bombings throughout the capital in months prior, two of Frank’s accomplices had been arrested several days ago. Hast had never made bombs or supplied materials for their construction, though he did allow members of the militia to use his basement for those activities. Frank was now anxious about his arrested comrades possibly giving information to the police regarding him or his house, and hated going out in public for fear of encountering police. However, he wanted to make sure his kids were safe and not marked by the militia, so he still brought them to school.
“They really need to work on expanding this road a bit,” Alice stated softly, peering her head up further to try and see over the cars in front of her.
“It wouldn’t change much, there’s always going to be jams like this.” Frank responded. He turned back to his kids. Eric played with “Arros Trading Cards”, while Janessa stared out of the window and up to the buildings in the fog. “Hey,” Frank asked his children, “what are you guys looking forward to today?”
“Mrs. Dobberman said she’s teaching us mul-tee-pul-dation today,” his son replied.
“Multiplication, Eric.” Alice corrected. “How about you, J?”
“We were going to go to the zoo, but I bet Miss Gress is going to say we can’t.”
A faint pair of police sirens caught Frank’s attention, and he peered into the rearview to see if he could find the source vehicles. “Why can’t you go to the zoo today, sweetie?”
“Cause’ its too rainy for the zoo.”
The sirens kept wailing, but the police were likely caught in the traffic behind, unable to move forward due to the congestion.
“I’m sure Miss Gress will still take you to the indoor things, J,” her father reassured. “Like the new tropic section! I hear they have new Sanctarian hedgehogs, you love those things!”
Honking from the vehicles behind the Hast’s van reasserted Frank’s interest in the sirens, and he looked back. A car tried to push into their lane, which led to Alice honking the horn twice. “Hey! Dammit…”
“Alice, hey,” Frank shot back, “the kids are behind you.”
“Daddy, Mom said dammit.”
“Eric,” Frank shut his son down and smiled at Janessa, who went right back to looking out the window.
The sirens had finally gotten louder and the cars in the left lane had begun to move, and as Frank turned, he saw two SWAT vehicles slowly moving up the lane. The honking subsided as four officers in tactical gear exited the vehicles, which stopped three cars back. Jerking forward in his seat, he looked at Alice, then back at the officers, navigating in between the vehicles with their rifles drawn. Alice and the kids hadn’t noticed them yet. Frank panicked.
“Stay in the car, kids.”
“What, Daddy?”
“No matter what happens, stay in the car.”
Alice looked at Frank quizzically as he unbuckled his seat and grabbed the door handle. “Frank, what are you doing?”
The door handle clicked as Frank opened it. “I love you.” Frank pushed the door and stepped out into the foggy street, walking forward and away from the approaching SWAT officers. The point man shouted, and the officers rushed forward after Frank. The remaining officers in the second car joined the chase.
Alice Hast watched in horror as her husband began running full sprint off the road and onto the sidewalk, through an alleyway, pursued by the officers. “What the hell have you done, Frank…”
Frank Hast turned an alley corner, checking into the building’s side with his shoulder hard, and throwing over a metal trash can in the path behind him. One officer took point at the same corner a moment later, taking a shot, which ricochet off the brick wall at a further turn. Frank ducked past just before the bullet whizzed past.
Eventually, after a couple minutes of chasing, Frank stopped abruptly at a stone rise Waterview overlooking Horseshoe Bay and the Tofino Harbor. He had unintentionally cornered himself at the edge of Gaviria Park. As tourists and citizens alike wandered by, curiously looking as Frank panted, sweating from the run, they scattered suddenly as all eight SWAT members started to close in, yelling for pedestrians to flee or drop to the ground, aiming their rifles at Hast. Frank backed up, with his hands still lowered and panting heavily, grabbing the cobblestone barrier between the forested park and the water.
“Frank Hast, stand down and get on the ground,” one officer shouted, “we have orders to shoot if needed.” Frank stood slowly onto the cobblestone wall, contemplating the jump into the water. The officers got closer, moving slowly in a flanking pattern.
A little girl stood behind her father, who urged her not to watch as the police raised their rifles. From where they were standing, the girl couldn’t hear what they were shouting, but she knew that whatever it was, the man on the seawall was scared. The man on the seawall reached into his pocket, and the little girl heard her father say “sweetheart, cover your ears, close your eyes.” The girl didn’t have time to react, because loud bangs rang out, and the man on the seawall jerked backwards, clutched his chest, and toppled backwards. The man on the seawall fell into the water below.
June 7th, 1991
8:24 AM
Tofino, Zian, Zamastan
Cool sea breeze flowed gently with the mist through the early morning Tofino streets, clogged with traffic as commuters began their treks to work, parents bringing their kids to school, and pedestrians choked the sidewalks. The bustling city was darkened by the light fog, which hung low to the lower floors of the towering skyscrapers.
Frank Hast, a 33-year old construction worker contracted at the Market Exchange on Portman Avenue, sat in the passenger seat of his family van with his wife, Alice, in the drivers seat, and his 7-year old son, Eric, and 5-year old daughter, Janessa, in the back. The parents often brought their kids to school in favor of putting them on the buses, as the business of the city was often hectic for the little ones. However, today, they regretted the over abundance of traffic, and were stuck in a dead stop several blocks from the school.
Unknown to his wife and kids, Hast was a member of an underground militia group. Small, yet known by the Zamastan government for a string of mail bombings throughout the capital in months prior, two of Frank’s accomplices had been arrested several days ago. Hast had never made bombs or supplied materials for their construction, though he did allow members of the militia to use his basement for those activities. Frank was now anxious about his arrested comrades possibly giving information to the police regarding him or his house, and hated going out in public for fear of encountering police. However, he wanted to make sure his kids were safe and not marked by the militia, so he still brought them to school.
“They really need to work on expanding this road a bit,” Alice stated softly, peering her head up further to try and see over the cars in front of her.
“It wouldn’t change much, there’s always going to be jams like this.” Frank responded. He turned back to his kids. Eric played with “Arros Trading Cards”, while Janessa stared out of the window and up to the buildings in the fog. “Hey,” Frank asked his children, “what are you guys looking forward to today?”
“Mrs. Dobberman said she’s teaching us mul-tee-pul-dation today,” his son replied.
“Multiplication, Eric.” Alice corrected. “How about you, J?”
“We were going to go to the zoo, but I bet Miss Gress is going to say we can’t.”
A faint pair of police sirens caught Frank’s attention, and he peered into the rearview to see if he could find the source vehicles. “Why can’t you go to the zoo today, sweetie?”
“Cause’ its too rainy for the zoo.”
The sirens kept wailing, but the police were likely caught in the traffic behind, unable to move forward due to the congestion.
“I’m sure Miss Gress will still take you to the indoor things, J,” her father reassured. “Like the new tropic section! I hear they have new Sanctarian hedgehogs, you love those things!”
Honking from the vehicles behind the Hast’s van reasserted Frank’s interest in the sirens, and he looked back. A car tried to push into their lane, which led to Alice honking the horn twice. “Hey! Dammit…”
“Alice, hey,” Frank shot back, “the kids are behind you.”
“Daddy, Mom said dammit.”
“Eric,” Frank shut his son down and smiled at Janessa, who went right back to looking out the window.
The sirens had finally gotten louder and the cars in the left lane had begun to move, and as Frank turned, he saw two SWAT vehicles slowly moving up the lane. The honking subsided as four officers in tactical gear exited the vehicles, which stopped three cars back. Jerking forward in his seat, he looked at Alice, then back at the officers, navigating in between the vehicles with their rifles drawn. Alice and the kids hadn’t noticed them yet. Frank panicked.
“Stay in the car, kids.”
“What, Daddy?”
“No matter what happens, stay in the car.”
Alice looked at Frank quizzically as he unbuckled his seat and grabbed the door handle. “Frank, what are you doing?”
The door handle clicked as Frank opened it. “I love you.” Frank pushed the door and stepped out into the foggy street, walking forward and away from the approaching SWAT officers. The point man shouted, and the officers rushed forward after Frank. The remaining officers in the second car joined the chase.
Alice Hast watched in horror as her husband began running full sprint off the road and onto the sidewalk, through an alleyway, pursued by the officers. “What the hell have you done, Frank…”
Frank Hast turned an alley corner, checking into the building’s side with his shoulder hard, and throwing over a metal trash can in the path behind him. One officer took point at the same corner a moment later, taking a shot, which ricochet off the brick wall at a further turn. Frank ducked past just before the bullet whizzed past.
Eventually, after a couple minutes of chasing, Frank stopped abruptly at a stone rise Waterview overlooking Horseshoe Bay and the Tofino Harbor. He had unintentionally cornered himself at the edge of Gaviria Park. As tourists and citizens alike wandered by, curiously looking as Frank panted, sweating from the run, they scattered suddenly as all eight SWAT members started to close in, yelling for pedestrians to flee or drop to the ground, aiming their rifles at Hast. Frank backed up, with his hands still lowered and panting heavily, grabbing the cobblestone barrier between the forested park and the water.
“Frank Hast, stand down and get on the ground,” one officer shouted, “we have orders to shoot if needed.” Frank stood slowly onto the cobblestone wall, contemplating the jump into the water. The officers got closer, moving slowly in a flanking pattern.
A little girl stood behind her father, who urged her not to watch as the police raised their rifles. From where they were standing, the girl couldn’t hear what they were shouting, but she knew that whatever it was, the man on the seawall was scared. The man on the seawall reached into his pocket, and the little girl heard her father say “sweetheart, cover your ears, close your eyes.” The girl didn’t have time to react, because loud bangs rang out, and the man on the seawall jerked backwards, clutched his chest, and toppled backwards. The man on the seawall fell into the water below.