Chapter Text
Some time in 1992, Berlint, Ostania. Early morning.
“—WHAT DO YOU MEAN I ‘TRY TOO HARD’!?!?”
Firefighter Franky Franklin demanded as he argued, the rescue truck speeding through empty streets, lights flashing, siren wailing.
Behind the wheel of said rescue truck was Senior Engineer Loid Forger.
“I mean exactly that,” Loid said calmly. “You try too hard.”
He turned the wheel as the truck screamed down the empty road.
“You should just be yourself,” Loid said honestly.
“And stop making those stupid little explosive robots as presents.”
“THEY AREN’T STUPID! I MAKE THOSE WITH LOVE AND CARE, YOU JERK! AND WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH MY LOVE LIFE—WHY DO YOU EVEN CARE!?”
Loid shrugged.
“You’re my best friend. Of course I care.”
He looked at Franky with a knowing expression.
“If you want a girlfriend… wouldn’t you want her in one piece?”
Franky glared at him before Loid let out a snort.
“Just saying…”
Franky grumbled before their radio crackled alive.
“Rescue 15, what’s your location?”
The voice was none other than Chief Sherwood.
Picking up the mic, Loid responded almost gleefully.
“Chief! How was the family vacation?”
“Fabulous,” Sylvia replied in a monotone voice.
“Where’s your location?” she asked again, voice flat.
Loid glanced at his watch.
“Five minutes ahead of schedule.”
“Make it double. Chief out.”
Six and a half minutes later:
Flashing blue lights and hazard lights came into view as they merged onto the Autobahn, traffic backed up for kilometers.
Pulling up to the scene, they were met with a six-vehicle accident—two tractor trailers, three sedans, and one wrecked work van.
One sedan lay flipped onto its roof, while the work van had punched through the guardrail and slammed into a tree. The two trucks had jackknifed across the road, blocking all lanes.
Several ambulances and two fire engines were already on scene treating the wounded, while highway patrol blocked off the road.
As the truck came to a stop, Franky jumped out.
“I’ll get the equipment.”
“Right.”
Gone was Loid’s humor—in its place, total professional focus.
Stepping out, he zipped up his tunic, pulled on his helmet, and grabbed his Halligan bar.
Franky trailed behind, carrying the hydraulic cutters and rescue tools.
“You could help, you know!” Franky said, straining slightly.
“You’ve got it,” Loid replied.
A firefighter in a yellow helmet approached them.
“Glad to see you—we’ve got most people out and accounted for, but we’ve got two still trapped in the van over there.”
Loid rolled his neck.
“Let’s go…”