Twilight held tightly onto one of the seats as they rode, the rumbling of the massive engine making it difficult to hear anything else. She looked between the twins, Arnold holding his SMG tightly, watching as they ate up the distance between themselves and the edge of the district. Skeeter simply stared ahead, watching for feds as he drove.

Both men wore their respective masks from the rescue mission a few days prior in hopes that concealing their identities would enable them to return to the garage when Twilight went home and things finally settled. Twilight had already pointed out how slim that chance was, and they’d responded by changing the subject. The thought of not being able to return home was too much to deal with right now.

Instead, they sat in a tense silence, scanning the streets for an enemy they knew was waiting for them. They didn’t have to wait long.

“Look left!” Skeeter called, and both passengers immediately complied, noticing the group of four SUVs blocking the road. They were arranged in a makeshift wall, a majority of their occupants patrolling on the other side. It was hard to tell given the distance, but it didn’t appear as though they’d noticed the Outlaster yet.

“Well, we don’t wanna go that way.” Arnold said, eyes staying on the enemy until it left his line of sight.

“It’s not like one area can be easier to get through than another.” Twilight countered. “One way or another, we’re going to encounter feds when we leave.”

“Think magic’s gonna help us here?”

“Maybe if there were fewer soldiers. I can only do so much at once, and we might have a few seconds at best once they spot us.”

Skeeter frowned underneath his ski mask. Even with Allen dragging a chunk of them away, it looked as though the feds still had enough people to form a strong perimeter around the district. The Outlaster was strong enough to plow through any resistance, but heavy armor wouldn’t stop the feds from broadcasting their location; and as Twilight had just pointed out, they would be there to greet the trio no matter which way they tried to leave.

Skeeter passed more blockades, some having five or even six cars. He finally stopped behind the rec center, intent on conserving fuel while they figured out an alternate approach. They couldn’t stay here, but if they tried to leave they would most certainly be spotted. There had to be some way to-

“We could try goin’ west, then loop around back east.” Arnold suggested.

Twilight looked at him, puzzled. “How would that help? Not only would we still be seen, but we’d have a longer way to go.”

“True, but think for a sec.” he said as Skeeter turned around to listen. “So far we’ve seen every avenue blocked off by a squadron of four or more cars, right?”

“Right…” she said with a nod.

“That looks intimidatin’, Ah know…but ya’ll gotta remember that south is a big place. Really big. With a ton of streets that they’d need to guard.”

Skeeter reached under the back of his mask to scratch the back of his head, not immediately understanding where his brother was going with this. Twilight, however, had no such trouble.

“They don’t have enough people.”

“Nope.” Arnold agreed. “You’d probably need a good part o’ the national guard to box someone in here like that. What they musta’ done was send a squad from each o’ the other blockades to reinforce the ones on the east end once Allen rushed ‘em. They musta’ known what we’d be tryin’ soon as he did what he did.”

“How?” Twilight asked, frowning.

Arnold simply shrugged. “Experience?”

Skeeter turned back around and resumed driving, turning west. “So how many ya reckon is in the ones on the west side?” he asked.

“Maybe…three cars? Ten to fifteen guys at each block?” Arnold replied. “We can make it through that, right?”

“Absolutely.” Twilight said confidently as her hands began to glow. “Just make sure you hit one of the cars, Skeeter. I’ll handle the rest.”

((((((*******))))))

Allen swerved as the Jaguar rammed into him again, then replied by flooring the brake pedal and allowing it to collide with his bumper. He returned his foot to the accelerator as the silver car fought to regain control behind him.

“That’s my girl. Sick ‘em.” he said, patting the steering wheel affectionately.

He had been swerving like a madman through the limited traffic of the eastern residential district for the past ten minutes, trying to lose the only cars that seemed to be able to keep up with his. Ten minutes, and already Beauty had taken quite a beating, back window missing once more and an undoubtedly warped rear bumper from the Jaguar’s unrelenting assault.

Still, he found little room to complain. One, the pursuit had taken them far away from the SUVs, and two, the occupants of the other cars still hadn’t managed to get a good look at his empty passenger seat.

“Keep comin’ guys. I can do this all day.” he muttered to the cars in his mirror. So far, two of the pursuing vehicles had bitten the dust, one slamming head-on into a pickup truck, the other into a concrete wall. Now only the Jaguar and three others remained, and while the driver of said Jaguar seemed quite capable, Allen had no problem taking him out personally once the others had crashed.

Financial was only a mile away now. Leading the feds there at this time of day was a risky move. Traffic would be beyond crowded, leaving very little room for error. While his pursuers would almost certainly crash in the mess of commuters and taxis, he was in just as much danger.

Suddenly, one of the SUVs pulled out in front of him, the gunner opening fire.

“COME ON!!” he screamed in frustration as he was forced to turn to avoid the bullets, then laughed as he heard one of the feds spin out behind him, the gunner immediately staying his trigger.

“Nice aim!” he called back to the man in the sunroof. His amusement was short-lived, however, as yet another SUV tried to T-bone his right side. He tapped the break to allow it to fly past, then quickly turned the way it had come as another one rounded the corner and opened fire.

“Come ON!! HOW ARE YOU ALL GETTING AHEAD OF ME!?”

The answer, he realized, was obvious. They’d probably positioned people in back alleys all around the city, ready to give chase or cut him off at a moment’s notice. Just as they had several nights ago, the feds were working together to force him into a less favorable position. They were herding him into other, stronger units and trying to box him in. It was like an old-fashioned fox hunt, and he was the prey.

Behind him, the ever-present Jaguar continued to close in on the Mach 1, the passenger leaning out to fire his SMG at him and forcing him to duck down to avoid the shots.

That Jaguar was becoming a real problem. He suspected it was the same duo from before the Goodman job, and obviously they were taking their defeat quite personally. So far, he’d been spared a majority of their punishment, owing to his car’s better handling and his knowledge of the area. However, the Jaguar was not only much faster than his car, but being handled by a driver who was clearly learning his tricks and doing their best to make sure he couldn’t use them. The “home field” advantage that Allen held over his opponents was useless if he couldn’t get where he needed to in order to make it work.

The Jaguar gunner stopped perforating his car as he reloaded. Allen sat up a little more in his seat and drew his pistol, considering taking advantage of the temporary lapse in machine gunfire to take him out.

Suddenly, yet another armored car rounded the corner just ahead of him, the gunner leveling his LMG at him. He stared at it fearfully, suddenly feeling the SMG target the back of his headrest. Panicking, he dropped the pistol onto his lap, turning the steering wheel as far left as it would go while simultaneously flooring the brake pedal.

His pursuers, unprepared for his maniacal U-turn, swerved to avoid him. A few slammed into each other or into buildings, the rest simply spinning out. He immediately slammed his foot on the accelerator, determined to get as far away as possible before they recovered and came after him again.

I take it back. I can’t do this all day. HURRY UP SKEETER!!

((((((*******))))))

Arnold stared in confusion at the mage a few seats back, wondering what on earth she was doing. He would’ve asked, but she seemed to be in deep concentration, so he left her alone.

She was kneeling down, palms flat on the floor, and appeared to be pouring energy into it. Every so often he’d see the energy pulsate or spark lightly, as if it were alive and getting impatient. Skeeter, too, noticed strange things happening to their getaway vehicle, particularly around the plow on the front, which was glowing a faint pink and sparking angrily.

Finally, Twilight stood up with a tired sigh and dusted her hands off. “Finished.”

“What was that all about?” Arnold asked.

“I condensed a small fraction of my magical energy into the plow. Once it comes into contact with something, it’ll send a violent electric pulse outward, disabling electronics and stunning everyone nearby.”

Skeeter quickly turned around in his seat. “But…we’ll be fine, right?”

“Of course.”

He gave a small sigh of relief. “Good to hear.”

They continued down the street for a few minutes, silence once more dominating the inside of the bus. Twilight and Arnold looked up as heavy metal suddenly started playing from the bus’s speakers, then cut out as Skeeter continued to fiddle with the channel buttons. For a few moments all they could hear was static, then a news broadcast faded into clarity.

“…property damage as this deadly chase continues. Citizens are urged to stay in their homes to avoid any more unnecessary casualties. Police are being dispatched to intervene as we speak, and several blockades have already been set up to halt the assailants and their quarry. It remains unclear who said quarry is or who their pursuers are given the lack of license plates, but what is clear is that both parties are armed. So far, the chaos seems to be staying in the eastern parts of the city, though given the erratic nature of the quarry it is likely that…”

“We need to double-time.” Arnold said plainly.

“Ah’m pushin’ this beast as fast as it’ll go.” Skeeter replied. “We’re almost outta the district.”

Indeed, not thirty seconds later they were treated to the sight of the promised three armored SUVs blocking the road over the next hill. Arnold hurried to the back of the bus, preparing to silence anyone who managed to avoid the blast.

“Hey Twi?” Skeeter called. “Ya’ll better hang on to somethin’.”

Twilight did just that, watching as the soldiers in front of them scrambled out of the way. A thought suddenly occurred to her.

“Skeeter?” The mechanic turned toward her slightly, eyes never leaving the road. “Won’t the soldiers at the other roadblocks hear us when we smash through?”

Skeeter grinned maniacally. “Only one way to find out!”

((((((*******))))))

Jeff suddenly leaned away from the window, hissing as he held the bullet wound in his upper arm.

“Med kit’s behind you.” Carl said absently, his gaze dancing between the Ghost and various hazards on the road.

“Thanks.” he replied as he reached behind his seat and retrieved the white tin box, wincing as he unintentionally stretched the wound. “This is such bullshit.”

“Something’s different.” Carl muttered.

“Huh?”

“He’s fighting differently than he did a few days ago.” Carl elaborated so his partner could hear. “He used to do more ramming than anything else, probably to conserve ammunition. Now-”

“-he’s purposely trying to keep us at a distance.” Jeff finished as he searched for a pair of tweezers, his partner nodding in affirmation. “He can’t be worried about damage to his car, considering what we’ve already done to it.”

“Twice.” the other man agreed. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I’m thinking I want a look at the front seat of that car.” Jeff replied with a nod as he picked up his radio.

((((((*******))))))

Allen’s attention bounced between the road and his handgun as he struggled to reload it. Finally succeeding, he turned around to continue firing at his rivals in the Jaguar, only to glance back and forth in surprise and confusion when he didn’t see it.

He spun back around and ducked as he heard gunfire pepper the hood, straightening up when it stopped and firing two rounds at the shooter. He then retracted the pistol in satisfaction as he watched the man retreat into the relatively safe confines of his car, said car falling back into line with the rest of his pursuers as two more took its place.

Allen chewed his lip anxiously as he shifted gears again, trying to make up for the speed he lost every time he took a corner. The situation was escalating beyond road rage to all-out chaos, and he still hadn’t heard anything from Skeeter.

Have they been caught? he thought worriedly, then immediately shook the thought away. The mechanic had proudly gone into detail about just how unstoppable his “side project” was. If he was to be believed (and Allen saw no reason not to), it would take an act of God to even slow that bus down. Plus, he had faith in their ability to find a way around any potential hiccups.

No, the only one in any danger was him.

And right now, that was just how he wanted it.

The two cars now chasing him were slowly but steadily gaining on him, their gunners leaning out of windows as they tried to get a fix on his head. He turned to aim behind him, wondering if the feds had invested in bulletproof tires for the smaller vehicles after the last time they’d done this.

Then a black and white SUV slammed into the one on the right, red and blue lights flashing menacingly, and all hell broke loose.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?” he screamed. “NOW YOU GET INVOLVED!?”

All around him, LVPD cruisers were emerging from parking lots and side streets and even the driveways of homes. Whereas before the calamity had been contained in the road battle between him and the feds, now the cops were engaging both sides with overwhelming numbers. They rammed into the feds, into him, and even each other on more than one occasion. The chaos soon resembled that of a demolition derby in full swing.

Allen drifted around a corner to the right as he attempted to escape the chaos, instead almost running head-on into a fed SUV. He turned left to avoid it, his eyes going wide as another one T-boned two police cruisers. Everyone was attacking everyone now in this chaotic waltz. Allen felt about ready to puke as he tried to keep track of it all. The feeling was exacerbated as another fed car slammed against his left rear side, purposely forcing him out of the residential area and toward a busy highway. Even through his nausea, he found that odd.

It was almost like they were trying to-

An explosion immediately ended that thought process, and he suddenly found himself fighting for control of the Mach 1. He glanced to his right, and his heart sank as he saw the dreaded double-fishtail of sparks in his rear-view mirror. There was no way he’d survive like this, not with the current chaos. He turned back to the front, looking past the highway just a few blocks away which separated the east from financial.

His heart leapt. He still had a chance.

All he had to do was make it past the highway and he could lose them in an alley, hide the Mach 1, and find a new car.

“C’mon Beauty! Just a little further, sweetheart!” he called out. He could’ve sworn the car jolted forward in response, determined to deliver its master to safety.

A police cruiser suddenly slammed into his right, forcing him into oncoming traffic and nearly making him crash into a light pole.

To his left, a gunner from an overturned fed SUV opened fire, forcing him to duck behind the questionably safe cover of the door until the gunner was out of sight.

He silently marveled at the durability of his car; broken and battered but continuing on, undeterred.

We can make it. he thought confidently as he stared at an appropriate alleyway just through the underside of the highway. We can-

Suddenly, he was distracted by a bright flash from atop the highway. He looked up, raising his pistol to engage whoever was firing at him from above, then felt his jaw drop as he saw a familiar silver sports car parked above him, safe from the carnage beneath it. Shock turned to dread as he noticed the double glare of a pair of binoculars coming from the passenger window as it sat above him, and he suddenly felt painfully conscious of his empty passenger seat.

He leaned over slightly as he passed under the highway, feeling around the floor on the passenger side for his radio. Their cover was blown. It was time to abort to plan B.

Finally managing to find the small black handheld, he raised it up to his face and pressed the button, hastily returning his eyes to the road and scanning around for danger.

The warning died in his throat when he saw the soldier with the RPG.

There was nowhere to turn, nowhere to hide. He felt his heartrate rise as he watched the soldier raise the explosive ordinance in slow-motion, the chrome tip of the missile aimed at the passenger door of the Mach 1.

Sorrow gripped him like a vice as he looked down at the steering wheel of his beloved companion.

“I’m sorry.”

With that, he grabbed the radio and his pistol in one hand and opened the door with the other, holding the fedora to his chest as he jumped and rolled to safety.

Mere meters away, the former queen of the streets of Las Vegas erupted in a glorious fireball, her former beauty now marred by hellfire.

((((((*******))))))

Remus sat in a chair at the front of the trailer, rubbing his temples as he considered everything he knew about Flynt.

He considered, he contemplated, and he reflected.

Then he growled in annoyance as he continued to come up short.

He had Flynt’s method of planning down to an absolute science. He was a rash, protective, paranoid young man who’s lack of trust in the world around him had led him to adopt a “shoot first” fighting style, incapacitating or disabling his opposition before they could make a move against him. Since their last confrontation, he’d learned that Flynt had also begun relying heavily on his friends, their differing areas of expertise more than making up for his various weaknesses. He’d read all about the vigilante phase shared by the three boys in their childhood, and they were without a doubt a formidable team.

It only made sense that they should work together to escape the city.

So when his second-in-command had informed him that Flynt had flown out of the southern district like a bat out of hell…attempting to protect the traveler by himself…he’d been effectively stumped.

Flynt wasn’t stupid, Remus knew that for certain. He undoubtedly knew the risks of facing such numbers and firepower alone, and the disabling of their cell phones was clearly meant to give him some yet-unconsidered advantage. Thus, Remus deduced that the boy’s suicide run was part of something bigger. But what?

Remus was still grumbling to himself when he heard the aforementioned second lieutenant hailing him through the radio next to him. “Lieutenant Jeffrey to Commander Remus! Jeffrey to Remus! Come in!”

Intrigued by the urgency in the man’s voice, Remus snatched up his radio and fumbled with the button. “Remus here. Go ahead.”

“Sir, The anomaly isn’t in the car!” Jeffrey all but shouted over the sound of engines and gunfire.

Remus’ mind went blank. “What?”

“She’s not in the car! The Ghost is a decoy!”

Remus sat there, blankly staring at the other agents for a long moment. Then he hastily flipped through channels until he found the one he was looking for. “All blocks, check in!”

“West one, standing by.”

“West two, standing by.”

Remus listened intently as each group checked in, the same bored monotone informing him that their status had not changed.

“West eleven, standing by.”

“West twelve, standing by.”

...

Remus felt his face contort in anger as he growled into the mic. “West blocks twelve and fourteen, move to assist thirteen.”

“Roger.” was the simultaneous reply.

Remus tossed the radio back on the desk and rubbed his face with his hands. Now they were screwed, well and truly. She could be anywhere in the city by now, and he had no means of determining where or even which direction she’d taken.

The worst part was that it was his own fault, having given the order that had allowed them to escape undetected. He’d been under the assumption that if they did try something like this, Flynt would have had them leave the same way he had, but clearly he’d been mistaken.

He leaned back in the chair, rubbing his face as he tried to think of some way to salvage the situation. There had to be some clue as to where they might’ve gone, something he hadn’t considered.

“Sir, damage report from West thirteen.”

He picked up the radio again. “Report.”

“Looks like something massive smashed through the block. I’d say it was magic, but I don’t think magic would cave an armored door in like this, although it was definitely magic that took down the men stationed here.”

The mechanic’s work, no doubt. he thought to himself. “Twelve and fourteen, continue tending to the injured agents. Everyone else, keep your eyes peeled for a doomsday bugout vehicle of some kind and be ready to mobilize.”

He crossed his arms as he considered this new information. Flynt’s friends were undoubtedly guarding the anomaly while he served as a distraction, and since they obviously couldn’t hope to hide whatever gigantic contraption they were escaping in for long, they had to have a relatively close destination in mind, perhaps a safehouse of some sort.

The other agents in the command center suddenly became aware of frantic typing coming from the corner where he sat, looking over as their commanding officer stared intently at the computer screen before him.

Remus ignored them, his fingers continuing to tap-dance across the keyboard as he bypassed various security measures until he finally found what he was looking for. He scrolled down, searching through the dates and expenses for anything of use. One particular entry caused him to raise an eyebrow in interest.

Glow plugs for a school bus from the seventies? he wondered. That must be what they’re trying to escape in, though I’m sure it looks nothing like a school bus now.

He continued scrolling, noting more school bus-related purchases as well as dozens more that were obviously meant for the finished product. He soon became frustrated, however, when he couldn’t even find those anymore.

Finally, he shut the laptop and leaned back with a sigh. He knew that the twins had a shelter of some kind somewhere, but there was nothing in their bank records to suggest where it might be. He groaned as he realized that he was just as screwed as before. The traveler would be beyond their reach soon, if she hadn’t already-

“Uh…Sergeant Cullen to Commander Remus?”

Once more, Remus picked up his radio and held it close to his face. “Go ahead.” he prompted flatly.

“Sir, some kind of APC just passed by our position. It looks like a heavily-armored…school bus?”

“Which way was it headed!?” he asked, suddenly standing.

“East.”

His heart skipped a beat. There was only one place they could be heading that made any sense.

“You and your block get after them.” he said calmly. “Everyone else triple-time it to the eastern city limits and keep them from reaching the desert.”

Having given the first order, he turned to two nearby agents. “Intercept their next radio transmission.”

((((((*******))))))

Allen ran. He had no idea where he was running, he just knew he couldn’t stop.

He ran through puddles of filth, climbed over walls, and knocked over garbage bins.

Behind him, he could hear the distant shouting of his pursuers as they followed him.

He continued running.

A police car skidded to a halt in front of the exit to the alley he was running down, two officers climbing out and hurrying towards him. Deaf to their orders for him to freeze, he jumped and began climbing a service ladder to his right. One gave his partner a leg up, said partner hurrying up the ladder after the man in the coat. He drew his pistol as he neared the top, ready to shoot the runner before he could get any further, then cried out in surprise as the heel of a boot met his face and sent him bouncing back down through the ladder cage.

Allen ran across the roof of whatever building he was on, then jumped across the narrow gap at the end of the building and caught a windowsill on the next one, proceeding to drop to the one below that and continuing until he stumbled onto the concrete ground of the alley below. He then continued running.

An outlet mall loomed above him as he exited the alleyway, obviously packed if the crowd at the front was any indication. He lowered his scarf and ran that way, not slowing down until he made it inside and merged with the crowd of oblivious shoppers. He exited as quickly as he’d come, disappearing through a door marked “staff only.”

He leaned against the wall as he took the radio off of his belt and pressed the button, still breathing heavily. “Skeeter! Come in!”

The mechanic picked up almost instantly. “Al? Ya’ll okay?”

“No, I’m not. I’ll explain later.” he replied breathlessly. “Listen, plan A is a bust. Shit hit the fan and someone saw into my passenger side.”

The door to the room suddenly opened and he tensed, expecting either feds or cops. Instead, a freckly teenager strolled in, bobbing her head to the music blaring out of her headphones. Noticing him, she lowered the headset to tell him off for trespassing, only to go pale as his knife suddenly appeared under her chin.

“Sit down, shut up.” he hissed.

“Sitting down, shutting up!” she squeaked as she complied.

Allen turned back to the radio, knife still in hand. “Just abort to plan B. They’re probably moving to cut you off now.”

“Ah don’t think so. We’re almost there now, ‘n Ah don’t see-HOLY SHIT!!”

“Skeeter!?” Allen called, suddenly hearing the distant sound of bullets bouncing off of armor plating, as well as Arnold's muffled shouting. “Skeeter!”

“Yeah, ya’ll wasn’t kiddin’! They definitely know!” Skeeter yelled back. “Well, there goes our lil’ secret!”

“Just take out anyone following you and stick to the plan! I’ll rendezvous with you as soon as-”

Static suddenly blared from the radio, making him cringe as he held it at arm’s length to spare his hearing, then disappeared as quickly as it had come. His ears still ringing, he cautiously brought it back to talking distance. “Skeeter!?” he called experimentally.

“Hello Flynt.”

Allen froze.

The voice on the other end said nothing more, yet it still resonated in his ears, bringing all other thoughts to a screeching halt.

It’s not possible…he thought quietly.

Memories of events long past immediately began replaying themselves in his mind’s eye: his family, torn apart and bloody; the call he’d gotten in the hospital; the mile-long bloody streak he’d left on the streets of Vegas afterwards…this voice brought all of this back and more.

A thousand questions ran through his mind.

He decided to ask the one that mattered.

“Frost!?"

Author's Note

Sure it probably took too long, but I feel good about this one.
Be sure to leave a like if you enjoyed, follow me for more content, and leave a comment with your thoughts.
Peace.