“Redline”
- Eddies
- 3,644
Charter Hill, Night City
After "Calling All Cars"
The engine of Night City thrummed beneath their feet, through the alleyways and over a couple fences. Sirens rang in the distance, flashing lights bounced off glass towers, and the air grew thick with heat and sweat, the aftershock of the bank job still burning in Ryan's veins. Every second wasted was a second closer to getting boxed in by the NCPD. They barely made it out alive from that psycho freak @Ivo "Ironhand" Lasko, let alone @MaxTac's arrival. With the money shards bagged in hand, some likely damaged from the crossfire and tell-tale burn marks in the bag, at least the two last men standing in their crew was the same duo that started out from El Coyote Cojo.
Ryan moved with purpose, his boots striking pavement as he scanned the parking lot of some overpriced corporate housing complex. The kind of place where suits parked their high-end rides, trusting the city's security systems to keep them safe. That trust was a mistake. He jerked his chin toward a sleek, dark Chevalion Emperor parked under the glow of a flickering streetlamp. Quiet, sturdy, unassuming, perfect. "There," he muttered, already moving. A quick glance for alarms, then he pulled out a small breaker chip, jamming it into the port beneath the door handle. The interface lit up, glitching for half a second before the locks popped with a soft click.
Usually, the corpos had an advantage here. Especially with their rides often low-jacked or loaded with some primo security that would get you flatlined by a hit squad soon after. Charter Hill was middle-management though, not worth the trouble, their vehicles were fair game and thanks to the well equipped, privatized police force, it was never a thought. Ryan swung the door open, sliding into the driver's seat. His hands moved fast, rewiring the ignition, hotwiring the beast into a low, purring rumble. A trick he learned from @Nessa Graves long ago during their booster days. "Get in," he barked, eyes flicking up to check for any watching eyes.
As the engine roared to life, he dropped the bag of hot money shards onto the center console. "Hope you like ridin' dirty." Then, without waiting for a reply, he slammed the accelerator, the tires screeching as they tore out onto the neon-lit streets.