Trashed

Chapter 1

The van was red. Normally in these types of situations, the car is a sleek, black vehicle that pulls up to your door, stuffed to the brim with secret agents in suits, sunglasses, and a special identification card they use to get in anywhere. But humanity ran out of the colour black 10 years ago. There were no more shiny black cars to show up with a classified mission, no more formal dark coats. Nowadays, there was a banged-up scarlet van with 2 people wearing navy blue suits with brown ties. We dealt with what was left, what wasn't ruined.
"Captain Johnson. We need you to come in," the man on the left said. Looking him up and down, I sneered at his appearance. The people down at the Station seemed to be hiring just about anyone to do their dirty work nowadays. He had to be at least 50 years old, hair slightly thinning, his figure short and stout. Deciding to nickname him Matt, I sneered. I easily towered over him, and he shivered as he recited my name. It didn't surprise me, I had a reputation, and it probably wasn't the best kind. I thought over my answer before making the most logical decision.
"No," I simply said, stepping back and beginning to close my door. Internally I was cursing these idiots who had come to my door, it was six in the morning after a three am session working down at the Station. I wasn't even dressed yet, let alone consumed the holy drink, coffee. HELEN would probably berate me for staying up so late, but I couldn't be bothered with another lecture from my AI at this time of day. Sometimes I regret creating her, but she was more useful than not.
"Captain, it's urgent," Matt repeated. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I stood so I was at my full height. The woman gulped, not realizing that a person these days could be a whopping 6 feet tall. Everyone now was a midget, not enough resources to go around to get really tall. I had been cursed with genes that made me grow until I was effectively a giant. Thanks, Baba.
"So is sleep. Come back at a reasonable hour and I might help you."
"A message has come through the teleporter from Commander Kishma," the woman said. Her bold red hair was slicked back, revealing the cleanest hairline I had ever seen on a woman. Her eyes were a cold steel grey, searching me top to bottom. She had obviously heard about the incident, the whispers and the lack of clearance making everyone truly wonder what happened that fateful day. But they all know what I did, no one could keep that big of a crime silent. Her mouth was twisted into a grimace, her heel tapping against the ground, and I gave her the name Debra. For an agent, Debra wasn't very good at concealing her feelings. "He has said it was for your eyes only," that made me pause. Kishma and I weren't friends anymore, after the incident.
Why would he write something for me? Kishma hates me. I thought.
"What colour was the message written in?" I asked, words slipping out of my mouth before I could stop them. Kishma and I had a code, each colour a meaning. I hoped the agents were idiots and looked at the hue of the ink before arriving.
"Green," Matt stuttered, confused.
"Give me 15 and I'll be right with you," I slammed my door shut, breathing heavily. Green was bad. Green was rare now, too. Green meant-
"Amy, your heart rate is getting rather high, would you like me to initiate the Panic Protocol?" A calming voice came from the ceiling.
"Not right now, HELEN," I silently thanked the AI for not allowing me to start spiralling, back into a hole I had only just managed to pull myself out of. I had promised everyone, promised myself that the incident would not control my decisions, but I was never good at keeping them. If I had to pick my main character flaw, it would be my ability to stay true to my word. People didn't trust me anymore, and I gave them reason not to.
"Alright, boss. Would you like me to start the coffee machine?" she said, her English accent smooth and rich.
"Yeah, I'm just gonna go get ready," I muttered, pulling open the sliding door that leads to my bedroom.

I couldn't help but remember the horrid events of that day as I stared at the white walls of my bedroom. The onrush of waste onto land destroyed everything in its path. The trash cannons were supposed to launch all of Earth's problems into outer space. They were supposedly designed by the greatest scientists alive, but when time is ticking down, mistakes are made. No one predicted that they would fail, no one expected for the meteors to crash back onto earth's oceans, covering its whole surface in what could only be described as a savage tsunami.