Laser-Helmet

City of darkened streets requires Officer Satan (Amlan) to find weapons of inspiration en-route to a post-career retirement 'view' of simplified jog.

Anime/manga comics inspired stuff. Thanks for reading, 

DISCLAIMER: This work of fiction offers no commercial/explicit ties to any person(s)/body and all images/references used herein therefore comprise a purely 'personal' expression for social art (for 'open' views/translations).

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Amlan Satan, Slovak-Algerian, was the marshal, the captain, the chieftain, the best-cop, of his jar/head Earth realm city of darkness, invisible. He was Officer Satan, pre-retirement, and his last case was the one worth the memoir and story-tell (Facebook-like). Follow along, friends (Selfie-like).

SATAN: This city's skyline sure looks like the future, Chief.

POLICE-CHIEF: You're the chieftain, ok...but this syndicate is using lasers, wow.

SATAN: They run drugs and arm their gargoyles with laser (blinding); and gems?

CHIEF: That's the street-word, Satan...take care not to take your weapon high.

SATAN: A liquid-nitrogen weapon ('ice-gun') ought to frighten evil on bikes!

CHIEF: Lasers are the new word, and that's why the Mayor's afforded us an art!

SATAN: No worry, Chief; if one thing I know, it's utilitarianism for Hell (ha).

CHIEF: Good (Selfie-like).

Of course, any 'good' city of no-joy tale for animation or cartoon-consciousness for sadness and fright requires a real light of love, not just lasers and ice. That's where our heroine comes into the theater, a lovely waitress named Ezzy who swore her regular, Amlan Satan (officer hero), wished to be a priest and retire to manage a vineyard, somewhere in Belgium (Brussels?). She fell for him, and he continued to worry that making her a 'mark' for official-love would land her in a target-Hell cast by the evil drug syndicate he was now fast tracking/hating/hunting (Facebook-like).

DRUGLORD: Damn ice, damn.

ASSOCIATE: We've got some company orders/media to label Satan as a drunk!

DRUGLORD: This guy's an officer-hero type; he not care for media prestige, ok.

ASSOCIATE: The standard methodology of stalking/threats may not be lead, sir.

DRUGLORD: Yeah, yeah..."Officer Satan, idealist, not shirked by laser-tag."

After a while, the syndicate's power(s) seemed to diminish, perhaps because Satan, officer hero, promised his 'fans' that he'd take time to actually/honestly enjoy legal/overground/raceway bike-fun to (simply) forget about the evil ones he'd tracked/hunted, bad-guys on bikes who looked-the-part of laser-armed Earth realm humans of leviathan/uncertainty (damn).

DRUGLORD: I need retreat, now.

ASSOCIATE: We've a special 'package' for you (Auckland), sir.

DRUGLORD: Good...maybe I invest in Nasdaq from there (ok).

ASSOCIATE: At least Satan didn't bloody-murder ya, sir.

DRUGLORD: Good...I'll buy my son some robot-toys and only think money (ok).

Amlan retired and flew to Brussels, and yes, it was with is darling (Ezzy). She'd make him her signature sandwiches with tomatoes and help him forget why his last-case, the one worth tell, linked to lasers/ice, was worth forgetting, perhaps to think of a longer-future of TV, sports-bets, and love (Selfie-like).

"Doing well is the result of doing good. That's what capitalism is all about" (Ralph Waldo Emerson). 

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"Money is everything" (Ecclesiastes)