Grand Theft Auto

Weston, 9pm, 6th July 2029. 

Animated holo-ads continue to blind the drivers below, showing off the latest defense gadgets and electric cars. Pedestrians pass hurriedly over a slot built into the pavement, a two-inch thick wall threatens to emerge in the event of a security breach. More concealed technology is strategically placed around the streets including collapsible weapon turrets, controversially designed for tackling riots. Weston industrial district mostly comprises of abandoned construction sites, huge containers and the burnt out shells of disused factories. Large diesel trucks crawl down the wide roads; tuk tuks, cyclists and electric scooters fill up the remaining space.

A tall man in his thirties, dark haired, grizzled and wearing a grey combat jacket is one of the few pedestrians. He's found one of the last remaining phone boxes in town, covered in out of date posters and barely legible graffiti. Remarkably, it begins to ring as he approaches. He puts the receiver to his ear for several seconds and then replaces it without saying a word. Now he exits the booth and walks into the path of a bright red Sentinel saloon that screeches to a halt before him. To the driver's astonishment, the man pulls out a weapon from inside his jacket and points it squarely at the vehicle's windscreen. With his free hand he first points at the driver and then towards the pavement. The driver emerges, a shaking and whimpering young woman. She backs away from the man, her eyes fixed on his gun.
"P...p...please don't!"
He ignores her entirely, walks towards her car and sits in the driver's seat. The keys are still in the ignition and the engine is idling. For now, the car is as good as his.

The woman breaks down in tears as he speeds off, disappearing in seconds. Bystanders have been watching but haven't made any action. The traffic behind continues to move as if nothing happened.
"Jesus! That was my Dad's car!" She screams. "I'm so dead! So, so dead!"
The people on the streets turn away and continue about their day. Not a single soul helps the woman. Her accessories have spilled out of her dropped handbag and has fallen in between the slots in the pavement.

A crime like that, performed in front of dozens of witnesses and surveillance drones, surely that man must have been caught. It turns out that the man was already wanted for years and that the woman was lucky to have only lost her Dad's car. By the time the police were called to track the stolen Sentinel it had been taken to a specialist and the IDs changed to make it invisible to the cameras. This was no ordinary carjacking. Twenty expensive vehicles had been hijacked in June and July under similar circumstances by a man matching the same description. The authorities, now trained to deal with civil disorder and reliant on hi-tech equipment to handle petty crimes were unsure about how to stop this man. He would appear nearby an expensive vehicle, snatch it and disappear without a trace. Scans of his face had produced no matches and any of the stolen cars that turned up again were found almost completely destroyed and without any traces of DNA.