Pitbabe S2, Chapter 33 pg 7
Pitbabe S2, Chapter 33 pg 7
I glanced at the rearview mirror. The eye-searing red Supra MK4 that passed me earlier made a sharp U-turn, causing four or five cars trailing it to swerve as well. Other drivers on the road honked furiously, but the red car didn’t seem fazed. Once it got its bearings, it floored the accelerator, chasing me down.
Just from the driving style and the reckless, thoughtless moves, I knew exactly who was behind the wheel. No matter how many cars he switches, he can’t change his character. Even after being sent to rot in jail for two years, he’s still out here tailing the same pack leader. If this guy isn’t evil to the core, he’s just hopelessly stupid.
As expected, Winner and his lackeys were hot on my tail. I pushed the car to get as far from the lab as possible, veering onto a route leading out of the city. I avoided busy roads since I could no longer keep my speed at a normal level. Driving into the city could risk innocent bystanders getting caught in the crossfire, so my goal was to lure these idiots as far from people as I could.
The roads grew emptier, the streets clearing until they resembled a racetrack. Winner’s gang closed in more easily now. The black car and the green one broke off from the pack, accelerating until they were almost parallel with me. They were clearly trying to box me in, leaving no escape. Both cars squeezed closer, as if they’d come prepared for a collision. Judging by their skills and the cars they were driving, these guys were probably racers too. I had no idea Tony had so many racer henchmen—I thought it was just that one loser.
The farther I drove, the fewer buildings lined the road. I randomly turned into some alley, ignoring the navigation system entirely. There was no time to think that far ahead. All I knew was I had to lead them to a place where I could deal with them more easily. This area had barely any houses, just open land interspersed with patches of forest. Thankfully, there were some streetlights, but the distance between them was pretty far. Without high beams, visibility would’ve been terrible.
After driving straight for about a kilometer, the gang seemed to lose patience. The green car swerved and slammed into mine with such force that I nearly lost control. Luckily, I managed to steady it in time, but before I could recover, the other lackey’s car, flanking my other side, rammed me again. My car swerved once more, but I wrestled the steering wheel to keep going. Winner stayed glued to my rear, showing no sign of accelerating to join the fray like his minions. If I had to guess, he was probably too precious about his car. What other reason would a coward like him have?
I was boxed in on all sides, but none of them had managed to overtake and cut me off yet. I had to give credit to Phii Alan for tuning my car to perfection, making my little RX-7 as agile and ferocious as its proud owner could want. And I owed some thanks to the person who bought me this car out of affection, though I doubt he planned for me to use his beautiful RX-7 to play bumper cars like this.
They chased me into an old car graveyard, a massive concrete lot littered with hundreds of car wrecks. Some still looked intact, with most parts in place, while others were just skeletal frames. They were arranged almost neatly, stacked on steel racks at least three meters high, organized into blocks to store the car carcasses up to the top.
It was like the towering shelves in a supermarket, with aisles running between each block. The difference was that instead of tissues or spices, the “products” here were the remains of decommissioned cars.
Bang!
A gunshot rang out, followed by a loud thud against the rear hood of my car. It seemed they were done playing cat and mouse. They started rolling down their windows, firing bullets to help pin me down. Five cars, each with at least one gun. They unleashed a barrage while chasing and ramming me. All I could do was try to escape, weaving from one block to another, yanking the steering wheel with all my might until the concrete floor was marked with rainbow-like tire tracks. Even in this life-or-death moment, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret that Babe wasn’t here to see my latest drift. That last curve? I think it was the best I’ve ever pulled off.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
A bullet pierced the driver’s side window, flying into the cabin. I have no idea how it missed my head when its trajectory suggested it could’ve punched through my skull. Was it sheer luck, or was it predetermined that someone like me wouldn’t die from something as pathetic as this? A single shot to the temple, dead in seconds—that’d be too painless, wouldn’t it?
Bang! Bang!
I roll down the window and fire back, and the results are pretty satisfying. It looks like I managed to take one of them down. A purple Silvia S15 spins out of control, swerving and crashing into a pile of scrap metal before going still. I mentally tally a point for myself while ducking to dodge bullets. The driver’s side window is already riddled with holes, and the rest of it is so cracked it’s turned opaque, making it impossible to see out. Half of me is worried because I can barely see my surroundings, and the other half is stressing about whether brother Alan will chew me out for taking the car he stayed up all night tuning and getting it trashed like this.
Bang!
“Damn it!”
Another shot hits the windshield, the bullet piercing the passenger seat. If I’d brought someone along tonight, they’d be done for.
The windshield cracks from the impact, but luckily it doesn’t shatter completely like the door window. Still, it’s annoying enough to make me curse under my breath. With the situation clearly stacked against me, I need to figure out how to deal with these guys fast. There’s no guarantee the next bullet will be as forgiving as the last few.
Bang!
The latest shot comes from that punk Winner, who takes advantage of my car coming out of a turn to fire again. I can’t tell if he’s a good shot or just reckless, because I’m not sure what he was aiming for. If he was targeting my head, his aim is pathetic. But if he was aiming for the hood latch, I’d have to give him props.
The hood flips up, completely blocking the windshield. My visibility is now almost zero, with only the driver’s side window offering a glimpse outside. It’s an utterly unnatural way to drive, but stopping to close the hood now would not only increase my chances of dying—it’d be the dumbest way to go out in history. So, my only option is to keep driving like this.
“Give it up nicely, you mutt!”
Winner’s voice roars over the sound of engines, as irritating and grating as ever. I’ve felt this way since I first met him through Babe. After just a few encounters, I could tell he’s the type of dog that barks loudly but doesn’t know how to bite. That’s why he’s stuck as a lackey for life. Guys like him can never lead, though they’re decent enough at stirring up trouble.
I’m up against four enemy cars, and my car is clearly at a disadvantage. My already half-fried brain has to kick into overdrive, because I need a way out now. If I hesitate even a second longer, I’m done for.
I can’t lose here. No way.
I scan my surroundings. Babe’s instincts let me see far and in detail, but there’s nothing here except condos and old cars. I’ve only got one gun in the car, with just a few bullets left, and the car’s been shot to hell. I hear the enemy gang’s cars splitting off in different directions. Their speeds vary, and one of them is having engine trouble—I can pick up a strange sound from it. But their condition is still way better than mine. If I had to guess, they’re probably trying to surround me to cut off my escape. No matter how I look at it, there’s barely any viable way out left.
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