Chapter 8: coups de feu.
13 december 2017, 21:30PM. Brooklyn Heights, NY, USA.
Typing sounds were heard from outside of the room; the room was working inside was dimly lit, the only light it received coming in the shape of the moonlight, the laptop brightness and, ocassionally, a cell phone. A man, whose face was not visible from the chin up searched information using the Tor browser, when suddenly his phone vibrated. He grabbed the phone, unlocking it. Message from Janet. “When are you coming back home, honey? We’re waiting for you to have dinner. Your son wants to prepare that pasta you love so much. Kisses.”
The man started typing a reply on his phone. “I won’t be coming back home today. Too much work. Go have pizza with the kids, love you.” He pressed send, and the message was indeed sent. The man then highlighted a name he found in a web site in the deep web. The web site was about illegal racing, and this particular one talked about the Great Automation Run of 1995.
He lighted a cigarette. The sparks that came off the lighter lighted their surroundings, revealing a middle aged man, maybe in his late 40s. He started dialing a number in his phone, and then placed it next to his ear, as he held the cigarette with his free hand.
“Moshi moshi, rejidensu Nakahara?” - A manly voice picked the phone up; it sounded like they were in their early 50s.
“Been a long time, huh?” - Asked the mysterious man, as he raised a slight smile.
“Aaron? Is that you? What do you need?” - Replied the voice.
“I think you owe me a few answers, Kuro…” - Said the man.
Sétè, France, 15:30. 8th of October 1995. 4240km to Athens.
The google maps route can be seen here.
The cars entered the city keeping a low profile. The single lane road made overtaking impossible for the time being, and the police could be on the lookout. As the group entered the outskirts of the city, a bunch of Erin Berloses joined the group. The racers looked at the mysterious cars; they decided to keep a low profile, in case they were undercover cops. But so many? This was certainly strange.
As the lane separation dissappeared, the black cars started maneuvering between the racers, as if they were looking for someone. One of the Erins approached the Chevallier, lowering their co driver window…and sticking a submachine gun out, pointing at the drivers of the police car. Both drivers lowered their heads just in time, as the short burst of fire that’d follow missed its target. With the sound of the gunshots, all of the racers floored it again to try and run away from the shooters.
(Musical suggestion by @MrChips!)
All of the cars crossed the bridge tightly, sharing paint with each other. As the black cars were unable to take out their objective at the first attempt, they started shooting at everyone who was in their way to the Chevallier. Some of the bullets sparkled on the bonnet of the Chaucer, piercing it; soon, the driver of the lime green wagon found himself losing power and having to stop to change a broken injector, which had been hit. The Chupacabra got in front and the EVO RC passed the Bonham as well, but the driver of the latter managed to repair the injector fast enough to catch up and claim back the second place.
The Streets got narrower. In an attempt to avoid the gunshots, the Kanata had to hold back, an opportunity the Bohrs took more advantage of, taking the grand tourer’s former place. One of the Erins pressed the Kiito against one of the guardrails. The Kiito decided to slow down, to avoid what could end up in a fatal crash, but gave its place to the Friala, which swayed past the Erin. The streets got wider and the racers could finally floor it again. This did not leave the black cars behind, though, which either growled or spooled their freshly installed turbos to keep up.
One of the shooters tried to shoot at the barking dog inside the truck. The driver avoided this by simply doing the PIT maneuver on the car, forcing it to spin out. The 350 Turbo, NRZ, Interval and Roadcat avoided the gunshots by swaying their cars violently, forcing them into drifts that turned them into harder targets. The Holyzon, however, was hit on one of the wheels, forcing the driver to drive with a punctured tyre until it was safe to stop and change the tyre.
The driver of the Tsukuba tried to avoid the gunshot while her brother tried to return fire; while they were engaged in a gunfight with one of the shooters, another one of them approached them and pointed their gun at the driver of the white car. Another shot was heard.
The driver of the Dynamite had shot that shooter down.
The racers soon rejoined the highway. Passing just next to the discount supermarket, civilians ran away in panic as they heard the gunshots, their yelling more than audible despite the loud engines. The road got narrower again, and this time falling out of the pavement would have severe consecuences: the roads were surrounded by water in each side; falling out would mean ending sinking in the sea.
As the Erins approached the head of the group, the Potatismos decided to stop to refuel, as the fuel low indicator had already turned on. As the D114 divided itself in two lanes again, the drivers lined up to go through as fast as they could, as well as the shooting cars. The highway could be their salvation…or where they are hunted down.
To be continued.