Vincent Law's white knuckled grip on his pistols was unwavering as he chased the offender down the

brightly lit street. The workers of the hour dutifully made way for the chase, calmly crouching as the
Feeler ran past at full tilt followed closely by Vincent. The Law's black trench coat fluttered behind
him, untouched by the sparse gunfire of the Feeler's contraband automatic rifle. Diving behind the
corner of the looming Clothing Co. building, the offender released a string of guttural curses and
dropped into a kneeling firing stance, unloading his weapon upon the closing Law in a deadly spray of
metal.

Without flinching, Vincent leaped towards the wall of the Clothing Co., using his forward momentum
to leap upwards over the gunfire. He landed with a roll, coming up in a low crouch with a single pistol
drawn, the other in its holster at his side. A flash of surprised crossed the Feeler's face at his sudden
exposure, before Vincent's single shot caught him between the eyes. The now lifeless body slumped
backwards at the force of the shot, landing with a heavy thud against the looming building.

Vincent stood slowly, gun still trained on the body. He tapped his black ear piece, opening a
communications link with the Law Headquarters. "Target subdued. Approaching to check for life
signs," he reported in a monotone voice.

"Approved," the ear piece replied. "Proceed."

Vincent cautiously approached the Feeler, and nudged the body with his foot. Getting no response, he
knelt down and checked for a pulse. Finding none, he spoke again into his ear piece. "Target deceased.
Personal identification number..." Vincent glanced at the man's bloodied jumpsuit, reading off the
number printed underneath his worker's insignia, "...4287451."

After a short moment, the ear piece shot back a reply. "Identity confirmed. Name: Michael Clothing;
Age: 27; Status: Deceased, executed for crimes of feeling."

"Confirmed." Vincent closed the communications link with another tap, rose from the body, and walked
off, confident that the lower ranking Laws would arrive shortly.

---

Vincent Law arrived at home, a large, two roomed abode complete with all the necessities. He
unbuckled his gun holsters with practiced ease and hung them off his desk, next to his simple bed.
Shrugging off the trench coat of his occupation, he hung it with respect next to a dozen other carbon
copies hanging in his closet. He moved to the second room, and selected a food packet from cold
storage to eat for the evening. The noonday sunlight streaming in through his window, and a glance at
his blue watch confirmed he had only an hour or two before his shift was designated to sleep. He
placed the food packet on a heating pad to cook, and approached the Battery in the back corner, taking
a seat next to the cylindrical device.

The Battery was the cornerstone of modern human civilization. It harvested the biochemical Furion
energy produced by emotion, collected by a small, highly developed implant in the brain. These
'harvester' implants were built to contain Bronowski's Area, the section of the brain found to be
responsible for all emotional output in the beginning of the twenty second century. Upon the induction
of an emotion, the Bronownski's Area produced an influx of the Furion chemical which, upon reacting
with normal brain cells, produced a vast amount of bioelectricity that mutated the cells into an
energized, or emotional, state. The implant actively collects the Furion chemical as it is secreted;
 storing it in a series of self-contained, balloon-like sacks. At the start and end of each day, the Battery
collected the Furion chemical to produce the same reaction in a controlled environment, extracting the
bioelectricity, and effectively solving all the world's energy needs overnight. As an added benefit, it
eliminated emotion from the individual, creating a near Utopian society where greed, war, and poverty
became suddenly nonexistent.

Vincent grabbed a plug, a thin piece of steel that connected smoothly with the port on the base of his
skull, twisting sharply to lock it in place. A long, clear rubber hose extended from the plug to the
Battery, down into one of seven Furion holding tanks. Five of the seven tanks were already filled from
earlier extractions, and one was draining the raw Furion into the core of the Battery to power Vincent's
home. Without a second thought, Vincent activated the machine, preparing to allow it to extract the
Furion chemicals from his brain.

A click; a whir; then nothing. Vincent arched an eyebrow curiously. But... there should be something.
Normally, the whirring would continue, drawing the deep blue Furion out of the storage sacks in his
brain. The expected drainage, however, did not occur.

It's a simple malfunction thought Vincent, nothing to cause inquiry. It will show up on maintenance
scanners and be repaired. I can easily go a day without it. He deftly twisted the plug and gently pulled it
out. Not giving it a second thought, Vincent consumed the now heated food packet, and went to sleep
until his next shift.

---

An infinite valley of light green hedgehogs spanned out before him, rolling haphazardly down into a
pink cloud funnel. The black sun shone brightly through the clouds, causing shadows to appear where
they had no logical reason to be. Vincent spiraled around the edge of the cloud funnel, arms
outstretched as if in flight. The orange sky quickly faded to a bright purple as the last of the hedgehogs
tumbled down...

Vincent awoke to the sound of his timer. The bright colors and airy feeling of flight still clung to his
conscious senses, much to his surprise. Unconscious hallucinations illogically based and vibrantly
embraced... perhaps I have just experienced a... dream? Vincent had only heard about them as a
precursor to his Law training. Feelers often had these psychological episodes, caused by the over
stimulation of the Bronowski's Area by the Furion chemicals during restful periods of unconsciousness.
They often talked, twitched, and moved in their sleep, which was a sure sign of the Furion chemicals
taking hold.

Vincent took a quick survey of his surroundings, but found himself in the same position in which he
went to sleep before. The Furion is already leaking into my brain because of the dream, he thought, but
it hasn't begun to affect my body. Satisfied with his findings, Vincent heated up another food packet for
breakfast. The stars shown brightly in the cloudless night sky, and the new moon could just be picked
out from the surrounding black.

---

It was getting close to the end of his shift, two days later. He had not been interrupted by any more
dreams since the first, but his Battery had yet to be repaired. His attention drifted from his Battery at
home to the full implant in his brain, as he stared out into the street.
 Suddenly, his ear piece coughed to life with a patch of static. "Vincent and Robert Law, a Feeler has
been spotted at the intersection of Clothing Co. and Shoe Inc. heading north by northeast. Proceed with
haste."
"Confirmed," replied Vincent and Robert simultaneously. Vincent took off at a sprint, heading directly
south to intercept. He quickly unclipped his two pistols, and turned the safeties off with a trained flick
of each thumb. Normally, Law HQ only required the use of one Law in eliminating lawbreakers, so
when they sent two Vincent could only assume the worst.

Vincent caught a strange odor in the air as he approached the intersection the Feeler would pass
through momentarily, and it was something he smelled before as part of his Law training. He stopped
cautiously behind the northeastern corner of Clothing Co. to examine the intersection, peering out into
the intersection with extreme caution. Workers in their grey jumpsuits peacefully went about their
appointed tasks, walking up and down the street.

The Feeler, visually identified to be a middle aged male, burst around the far corner, wearing an ancient
contraption that Vincent had only seen once before. It was made of a large holding tank complete with
back straps and a nozzle attached with a long hose. A few inches from the nozzle, a small blue flame
flickered.

"Target sighted. Engage?" asked Vincent into his ear piece.

"Engage," returned Roberts voice, "I will arrive shortly."

"Confirmed," replied Vincent, training both his pistols on target.

The Feeler must have caught a glance of Vincent, because he made a powerful dive towards the
building, leaving Vincent's line of sight. Vincent silently cursed, and was about to peer around the
corner when a long, red-orange jet of flame flew past, nearly burning off the right side Vincent's face.

"What are ya gonna do now, pig?!" taunted the Feeler, "I'll fry yo ass as soon as you jump 'round tha'
corner!"

A duality of new sensations took hold of Vincent's body. His hands started to tremble of their own
volition, and he squeezed the grips of his pistols until he heard his fingers pop. He felt as though there
was a chunk of ice in his chest, burning his internal organs, and sapping logical thought. Robert, the
HQ, the workers... all was forgotten, except for the annoyingly arrogant laugh of the Feeler.

Vincent gave each gun a powerful half-twist, changing from semi-automatic to fully automatic.
Without another thought, he walked calmly around the corner, both guns drawn and firing.

Everything happened in slow motion. Every step towards the Feeler let loose a concentrated rain of
gunfire. Every bullet entered the Feeler at a different point, sending a tiny spray of blood into the air
and sending the Feeler into a new spasm. The Feeler fell to his knees, eyes slowly rolling into the back
of his head, yet the bullets continued to rain down. Five short steps led him directly in front of the
mangled corpse, and Vincent's guns only stopped firing because they ran out of ammunition. A splatter
of gore coated the ground and wall in a three foot radius.

Vincent kept his guns trained on the body, triggers held down so hard they were drawing blood from
 his fingertips. Robert rounded the far corner, but didn't catch Vincent's attention. He stopped, and
tapped his ear piece.

"Target subdued. Approaching to check for life signs."

"Approved," said a voice in Vincent's ear, "Proceed."

Robert jogged up next to the gore covered mess that was once a human being and knelt down, checking
for a pulse or a sign of breathing. Satisfied, Robert reported back. "Target deceased. Personal
identification number... unknown." A series of bullet holes had torn apart the ID into fragments
indistinguishable from the surrounding gore. "Requesting immediate backup; Vincent Law is
unresponsive."

Then all was black and silent.

---

Vincent awoke, head feeling like it was about to burst. He could taste blood and, oddly enough,
chocolate cake. It felt like a billion spiders were constantly running up and down his body, and he
thrashed violently, only to find he was strapped down on a cold medical examiners table.

"Don't move," commanded a white pillar, its voice sharply echoing within the confines of Vincent's
mind.

"Buh... wha... eh....?" wheezed Vincent, trying to talk around a tongue that wasn't responding to mental
commands. A bright myriad of colored lights raced overhead, sending Vincent's mind into another
spasm of brilliant pain. Everything else was hidden by a thick haze of gray, obscuring his immediate
surroundings. Every inch of his skin itched and burned, and his body involuntarily convulsed back and
forth.

"Your implant has ruptured, Vincent Law, and the built up Furion is leaking down your spinal column.
Under normal circumstances, Feeler's are subdued immediately. However, we are giving you another
option. Your efficiency rating is greater than ninety eight percent of Laws in the world. It is possible to
reintegrate you, but the resulting..."

The white pillar droned on for a few more seconds, but all the sounds and their echoes began twisting
the words into an incoherent mass. Vincent flung his head from side to side, trying to clear his head, but
he only succeeded in agitating his already excruciating migraine. He couldn't help but tense up in pain,
straining unsuccessfully against his leg and arm restraints. The white pillar stood there a moment, then
walked out of view. Almost immediately, a soothing white cloud descended upon Vincent, and one by
one his raging senses calmed, until he could barely feel anything at all.

Vincent closed his eyes.

---

"Identity confirmed. Name: Vincent Law; Age: 32; Status: Deceased, assisted suicide for crimes of
feeling."
Joseph Grave nodded slowly to himself, and gave just enough slack in his nylon rope to lower the body
the last few inches. He tossed his end of the rope into the mass grave, and went to get the next body.