The hiss of an autumn rainstorm on a sleepy highway is blown out by an avalanche of roaring engines and piercing sirens. A police helicopter watches from the sky as a dozen patrol cars smash against each other in pursuit of a singular vehicle. The police motorcade seems to care nothing for civilian vehicles; vans, motorcycles, and luxury cars too slow to avoid the tsunami of metal are ejected from their lanes.
One may reflect on the unimaginable loss of life and property, if one could focus in between the explosions of family minivans.
At the head of this atrocity is a green truck, belching black smoke from an engine at the brink of death. The chassis shows the scars from dozens of collisions. Both doors have been lost at some point during the chase, and the mangled speakers bravely play a sickly variation of "Pop Goes the Weasel".
Aiden Pierce clears an intersection in his ice cream truck from hell, and with a tap of his phone, he hacks the stoplights just as the group of police cruisers enter the intersection. The lights change, and four more civilian martyrs are created to stop the police's pursuit.
Aiden sees his escape: an internet-controlled bridge. Conveniently pre-hacked on his cellphone, this too only required a single tap to start its slow ascent. Grinding the accelerator into the floor of the van, Aiden aims the truck at the rising bridge. The truck is launched over the river, and it lands on the road with a telling crunch. Several police cruisers believe they can replicate the feat, but arrive too late. There will be many more empty places at Chicago dinner tables that night.
Realizing that he eluded the police, and that the latest impact to his stolen ice cream van would make it undriveable soon, Aiden decides to immediately leap from the moving van. His body is smashed against a Blue Line support girder, and it falls to the ground.
Aiden takes a second to wipe the blood from his eyes and give a smile to some shocked citizens taking photos with their smartphones. "It's the vigilante! Go Aiden!" they cheer, celebrating the blood-stained sociopathic technocrat as their bank accounts are instantly siphoned. Rent, savings, groceries, and dreams are converted to 0s and 1s and drawn into the economic black hole that is Aiden Pierce.
**[PROFILER: POTENTIAL CRIME]**
Aiden's eyes are torn from a nearby sports car to his phone. There is a notification from the Minority Report-esque profiling system. Aiden knows that if he games the system and arrives just in time to stop (kill) every criminal, Chicago would love him. Hopefully this time, he thought, I can keep control of my vehicle so as to not obliterate a full bus shelter. The police took me way off course last time.
The newly-destitute crowd cheer despite the exhaust from Aiden Pierce's stolen sports car filling their lungs.