“Well, at least we didn’t get knocked out this time,” Jessica said. “That part gets old fast.”
The stars had moved a little. The party was raging fully now; the shouting, laughing and engine sounds had magnified tenfold and were now all Tesla Squad could hear. The boxes in between them and the party proper provided meagre sound-proofing, if any. They couldn’t hear whispers, only normal talking volume or higher.
Jarred wasn’t paying attention to their discussion. He had more important matters to focus on, like burning through his ropes. All it took was an almost nonexistent spark of an electrical arc, closer to a static jolt than his normal lethal bolt of lightning, to burn through the rope. It took concentration to control it so, but it wasn’t a hard task, nor was he at risk of burning himself—the benefits of a secondary, but no less important, power. But he had to concentrate to direct the spark.
He could smell burning rope, the scent like cheap tobacco and almost exactly what he imagined it would be; could feel the scorching heat close to his hands. Finally, the restriction on his arms let go and his hands were free. He held them out in front of him.
“Did you just burn through your ropes?” David asked.
“Yep,” he replied.
“Okay, me next!”
“What about ladies first?” Jessica asked.
“I thought that only applied to lady-like damsels and such,” David countered.
“Oh,” she said, scratching her rear. “Touché.”
Jarred burnt through David’s ropes and then worked on Jessica’s. As he was working on Modok’s bonds they heard a bandit coming closer, muttering about checking the prisoners.
“Get ready to jump the bandit,” he commanded, leaning in close to whisper. David and Jessica hid their hands and ropes behind themselves. Jarred wasn’t going to risk burning the rest of Modok’s rope with the bandit present. He was only halfway through the most important part of the knot, but the smoke that continuing would cause would just attract attention.
The bandit produced the keys and unlocked the cage. Modok twitched, clenched his considerably-sized hands into considerably-sized fists. He was shaking.
Without warning he snapped the ropes, which miraculously didn’t give Jarred whiplash—his reflexes just that fast—and sprang up. Modok lunged at the startled bandit and smashed both fists against his head.
It took a total of two seconds.
“Well,” said Jarred. “That was easy.”
“Now we just have to sneak past the partying bandit horde,” David said. “Maybe we should lock this guy in here?”
“And steal us some phat bandit wheels,” Jessica added.
“Should be a walking cake, or whatever that phrase was,” Jarred stated.
Jarred led the way. He carefully pushed the door open, though it was doubtful anyone would be paying attention due to the partying—he hoped—nor would anyone hear one little gate opening amongst the much-louder anarchistic revelry taking place.
Still, he breathed a large sigh of relief when they found their weapons and got to some bandit vehicles apparently undetected.
“Jess, you’re up,” he said, indicating the nearest van, a maxi taxi. “You can hotwire a van, right?”
“Yeah,” she replied, “but why do we need a van?”
Modok spoke. “Because I turn to stone in daylight. I need to be inside something.”
“Ah. And that would be bad because we wouldn’t get paid.”
“Exactly,” Jarred replied.
“One stolen—er, liberated—van coming right up.”
Jessica moved to the right side, picked the lock on the driver’s door and disappeared into the foot space. After some tinkering a spark ignited and the engine roared to life.
Loud enough to draw attention.
“The prisoners!” someone shouted.
Jarred didn’t wait around. He shouted “Cheese it!” and dashed around the front to the passenger side and opened the sliding door.
David and Modok didn’t have to wait to be told; they were already getting in when he got there. Before the door had even finished sliding shut Jessica embraced her lead-footed nature and the van sped away from the dirt track, down Parkland Boulevard and out of the parkland, onto the car-strewn Roma Street.
The chase was on as about twenty bandit vehicles came roaring after them like lions hunting gazelle.
Brisbane city was littered with rubble everywhere. The roads were still mostly intact, as most fireballs detonated in the Element War were in buildings. Mages were the new terrorist, allegedly freeing the world’s sheep from the control of consumerism. The result was a bloody five-year war and a lot of destroyed cities. That destruction was everywhere, and it made getting around difficult because a lot of streets were impassable. It didn’t help that many of Brisbane’s streets were one-way, a fact that Jessica blatantly ignored due to having two dozen bandits on her tail, keen to not let her get away.
She tore down Roma heading east, since the debris along the direct path to Central Station was still being cleaned up. She accelerated hard then braked hard coming into the turn onto George Street. That street was a winding path between abandoned cars, the wheels crushing all manner of detritus underneath as the van ploughed ahead. Adelaide Street was a bad idea—another gang of bandits were known to live there somewhere—so she sped on to Elizabeth Street just as the bandits began firing assault rifles at the van.
Breaking hard she turned left and almost ran into an overturned bus, narrowly squeezing between it and the nearest car. The left mirror went flying.
“I know this is a chase, but please don’t crash us,” Jarred called out.
“Can’t make any promises,” Jessica replied. Another hail of assault rifle fire tore at their back, this time connecting with the window. Jarred fired back, hitting two bandit drivers and sending their vehicles swerving, one into a food court and the other into the underground mall parking, not far from where the group had once dashed out of the mall, a group of subterranean goblins after their meat.
David also fired back, but a shotgun was almost useless at ranges much greater than in-your-face. They reached the spot where they’d encountered Modok a month and a half ago. The car pile-up was still there. Jessica turned up Albert Street and headed to Queen Street over the bricks and coke bottles. They narrowly avoided some emo kids near Hungry Jacks as they sped past amidst another hail of bullets on Queen Street proper.
This time when Jarred fired back, he only hit one bandit, though this one careened into another who accelerated in surprise and hit a third bandit. The two crashed spectacularly into a corner newsagent.
“They’re still on us!” Jarred called out, ducking below the shattered back window.
“You have an assault rifle!” Jessica replied. “Assault them!”
“Fuck it,” Jarred whispered. He charged his power and let loose with a fork of lightning that whipped into another five bandit cars with explosive results.
“SCORE!” he yelled. Then ducked as more bullets battered the back door.
“How are we doing?” Jessica asked.
“Down to twelve—no, eleven. I think.”
“We’re almost out of fuel!”
The lead pursuers closed in, and Jarred ducked to reload as David unloaded buckshot into their faces. Eight bandits crashed, and it was even more spectacular as some even went flying.
The bandits backed off then. Jessica veered right at the end of the street. Right onto Adelaide. Right into another group of bandits.
“Shit!” she yelled, slamming on the brakes. She tried to back up. That was when the missile hit the ground behind the rear back wheel, and sent the van tumbling into Office Works.
