Morrigan: Year 3101.

A sharp kick jolted Eugène awake. He groaned, peeling yesterday's newspaper off his face. His partner, Jacques Moreau, loomed over him, shaking his head.

"Seriously, man? Paper news? It's 3101, for fuck's sake," he said.

"So?" Eugène stretched, his back cracking. "Old school's still the best. Can't hack paper."

Jacques snorted. "Yeah, well, the boss wants to see you. Pronto."

"What for?" Eugène asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Dunno. Probably to chew you out for sleeping on the job again," Jacques sat down at his desk and began typing on his computer.

Eugène stood up, smoothing out his wrinkled shirt. "Shit. Alright, I'm going. Thanks for the wake-up call, I guess."

"Anytime, partner. Maybe invest in an alarm next time?"

"Nah, too high-tech for me," Eugène yawned while heading towards the chief's office.

Eugène decided to grab some coffee before facing his boss. He shuffled through the precinct, dodging officers rushing past with perps in cuffs. At his desk, a rookie struggled to book a belligerent drunk who kept yelling about his rights. Eugène smirked, remembering his own early days.

The break room was empty, save for the ancient coffee machine gurgling in the corner. He poured himself a cup of the thick, black sludge and grimaced at the taste. The wall-mounted screen caught his eye, displaying breaking news about a high-speed chase on the A86 highway.

Footage showed a dakr car weaving through traffic, pursued by multiple police vehicles. Suddenly, one of the cruisers exploded in a ball of fire, flipping over the median.

"We're seeing unprecedented violence on the A86 highway," the reporter said. "An unidentified vehicle is leading police on a high-speed chase, and—oh my god!"

The camera zoomed in on the explosion, capturing the police cruiser as it flipped over the median.

"This is... this is unbelievable," the reporter stammered. "It appears the police vehicle has been hit by some kind of explosive. We're not sure of the exact nature of the weapon used."

"What the fuck?" Eugène muttered.

The camera panned to the ambulance going towards the crashed vehicle, sirens wailing in the background.

"The identity and motives of these individuals remain unknown at this time, but the level of firepower they're using suggests this is far more than a simple traffic stop gone wrong."

Eugène whistled low, wondering what the hell kind of firepower those perps had. "This is gonna be one hell of a shitshow to clean up," he said to himself before draining the last of his coffee and tossing it in the recycler.

He approached Chief Dubois's office, the door slightly ajar. He could hear the chief's voice through the gap.

"I don't give a rat's ass about your budget concerns!" he shouted into his phone. "We need every available unit on this!"

Eugène knocked lightly and entered. The chief waved him in without pausing his tirade.

The office was a mess of papers and half-empty coffee cups. Behind Dubois's desk hung a massive portrait of his wife, her triple chin proudly on display. Eugène averted his eyes, remembering the last poor bastard who'd made a crack about it.

He recalled Officer Blanchett's ill-fate. The poor guy had joked about the chief's wife's weight during a staff meeting. Next day, he found himself reassigned to the sewage patrol unit. Six months of wading through Paris's underground filth taught him to keep his mouth shut. Nobody dared mention the incident again, but the message was clear: don't fuck with the chief's family.

"Fine! Just get it done!" Dubois slammed the phone down and turned to Eugène. "Jesus."

"Hey, boss. Why am I here?"

"Finally, Moulin. You see the shit that's going down on the A86?"

"Yeah, just caught it on the news. Looks like a real clusterfuck."

"That's putting it mildly. I need you on this, pronto."

"Chief, I'm kinda tied up with the Beaumont case right now. Can't you put someone else on it?"

Dubois's face reddened. "The Beaumont case? That penny-ante Ponzi scheme? Are you shitting me, Moulin? We've got cars exploding on the highway and you're worried about some two-bit conman?"

"It's not just Beaumont," Eugène protested. "There's politicians involved, maybe even—"

"I don't care if the fucking Pope's involved!" Dubois roared. "This takes priority. Get your ass out there and find out who's turning our highways into a war zone!"

"Chief, you know I can't just drop that. What's the hurry this time?"

He sighed. "I just talked to the Secretary of Defense a while ago. He wanted the fuckers who blew up our police car."

"Big whoop. It's one police car."

"I know, but they did it with a freaking rocket launcher!"

A rocket launcher? In Paris? This wasn't some backwater warzone or action movie - this was the heart of the European Federation, and that kind of weapon is strictly prohibited. Who the hell were these people? And why'd they escalate to military-grade weapons?

"A rocket launcher? How the hell did they get that?"

"I was wondering it myself. We have strict laws here about weapons like that. Do you know the kind of image that would project if people knew that someone was smuggling rocket launchers into Paris? It would send panic through the entire city. They'll say that the EU Federation council is weak in stopping weapons smuggling."

"But Chief, that's impossible. The Federation's got top-notch tech to stop smuggling. We haven't seen a case like this in years."

Dubois leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. "I know, I know. That's what's got everyone so worked up. Either our systems failed, or someone found a way around them. Either way, it's bad news."

"So? Don't they have men to look on that?"

"They do, and they added us too to look on this."

"Shit," Eugène muttered. "Now they want us to look at their mess?"

"Politicians. What can you expect? Those fuckers will sell their own mothers if it keeps them in power."

Politicians and their bullshit - some things never changed, even after centuries. Eugène thought back to the scandals that had rocked Paris over the years. The Eiffel Tower Renovation Scam of 2980, where billions of euros vanished into thin air. The Great Seine Cleanup Debacle of 3050, which left the river more polluted than ever. And who could forget the infamous Hover-Car Kickback Scheme of 3075?

Time and again, the bigwigs at city hall had proven they cared more about lining their own pockets than serving the people. From rigged contracts to embezzlement, tax evasion to straight-up bribery, Paris had seen it all. The faces changed, but the song remained the same.

Even now, in 3101, with all their fancy tech and promises of transparency, corruption still festered beneath the gleaming surface of the city. Eugène had lost count of the number of times he'd been told to look the other way or bury evidence that might implicate someone important. It was enough to make a good cop want to quit.

"So what's the plan? We chasing these guys down or what?"

"They've gone off-grid for now," his boss said. "Last seen heading towards the outskirts of Paris. I need you to start digging. Find out who they are, where they came from, and how the hell they got their hands on that launcher."

"Alright, I'm on it. But Chief, I can't just drop the Beaumont case entirely. That's big too, in its own way."

Dubois sighed. "Fine. You can keep working on it, but this takes priority. I want daily updates on both cases. And Moulin?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't fuck this up. The brass is watching this one closely."

"Got it, Chief. I'll get right on it."

As Eugène turned to leave, Dubois called out, "And for Christ's sake, get some sleep in a real bed tonight. You look like shit."

"What? I look fine."

"No, you look like shit. You smell like my dog's turd too, and that fucker is a chihuahua. I don't even know what he eats but that little shit releases large ones that's twice bigger than my fist."

"Geez, fine I'll take a shower then."

"Good."

Eugène flipped him off as he walked out, making sure the chief couldn't see it.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Jacques.

"Yo, partner. Meet me at the car in five. We've got a new clusterfuck to deal with."

"What now?" Jacques groaned. "I just sat down with my coffee."

"Bring it with you. This is big."

Eugène hung up and made his way through the station. Officers went about, the usual chaos of the precinct in full swing. He nodded to a few colleagues as he passed, ignoring the curious glances thrown his way.

Outside, the Paris air hit him like a wall of heat and exhaust. Hover cars zipped by overhead, their engines humming. Eugène squinted up at them, wondering how long it'd be before the department could afford to upgrade their ground-bound vehicles.

Jacques jogged up, coffee in hand. "This better be good. I was about to start on the paperwork for that drug bust last week."

"Trust me, it's way more interesting than paperwork," Eugène said, climbing into the driver's seat of their cruiser. "Hop in."

Jacques slid into the passenger seat, sipping his coffee. "Alright, spill it. What's got the chief's panties in a twist this time?"

Eugène pulled out into traffic, merging seamlessly with the flow of vehicles. "You catch that news about the highway chase?"

"Yeah, saw it on the feeds. Looked like some action movie shit."

"Well, turns out it's our problem now. Chief wants us on it."

Jacques nearly choked on his coffee. "What? Why us? We're homicide, not highway patrol."

"Because," Eugène said, weaving through a particularly dense patch of traffic, "these assholes used a fucking rocket launcher."

"A rocket launcher?" Jacques whistled low. "In Paris? How the hell did they get that past security?"

"That's what we need to find out. The brass is freaking out, thinking it might be some kind of weapons smuggling ring."

Jacques set his coffee down. "Shit, that's heavy. But why us? Surely there are better-equipped teams for this kind of thing."

"Chief didn't say. My guess? They want to keep it quiet, use detectives who can be discreet."

"Since when are we discreet?"

"Hey, speak for yourself. I'm the king of subtlety."

"Yeah, right. And I'm the Easter Bunny."

They drove in silence for a moment, both lost in thought. Finally, Jacques spoke up. "So, what's our first move?"

Eugène drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "We start with the basics. Check the traffic cams, see if we can ID the vehicle or the perps. Then we hit up our contacts, see if anyone's heard whispers about weapons moving through the city."

"Sounds like a plan. But what about your Beaumont case? Thought you were close to cracking that one."

"Yeah, I was. Chief says I can keep working it, but this takes priority. Daily updates on both."

"Jesus, he's really piling it on, huh?"

"Tell me about it. But hey, at least it's not boring, right?"

Jacques snorted. "Yeah, because what every cop dreams of is taking on arms dealers with military-grade weapons."

"Beats writing parking tickets."

"True that."

They lapsed into silence again, the city streaming by outside their windows. Eugène tryed to piece together the little information they had.

"Hey," Jacques said suddenly. "You think this might be connected to that terrorist chatter Intelligence picked up last month?"

"Possible. But why hit a random police car? If it was terrorists, wouldn't they go for a bigger target?"

"Unless they're testing our response times, seeing how we react to a smaller attack before going for something bigger."

"Shit," Eugène muttered. "I hadn't thought of that. Good catch, partner."

"See? I'm not just a pretty face."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't let it go to your head." Eugène pulled the car into the parking lot of their precinct. "Alright, let's get to work. You hit the traffic cams, I'll start making calls to our contacts."

"Got it. And Eugène?"

"Yeah?"

"Try not to piss off too many people this time, alright? We might actually need their help on this one."

Eugène flipped him off as they got out of the car. "No promises."