Spike Speeder raced across the highways of the Sprawl on his motorcycle, a sleek model covered in metallic red. A rapsy rumbling was all the noise the machine made as it flew across the pavement. The winds of the city and wastelands tried to follow Spike, but in the end he was too fast for even the wind. The neon lights of the Sprawl seemed to be a blur to Spike's eyes. By night the roads were mostly cleared, allowing Spike to glide at top speed. Although he enjoyed the rush and sweet thrill of unhindered speed, Spike had to get to his safe house as quickly as he could. His contact, known only as Agent Klaws, was supposed to be waiting for him there.
The roar of another motorcycle caused Spike to glance backwards for a split second, but that was all Spike needed to spur him to hit his accelerator. He knew these clowns; they were the same bully boys Wormwood Corp had sent after him. Spike sighed as his tempermental bike began picking up speed, athlough Spike could tell the hit team was gaining on him. It never failed to surprise Spike how many hitmen would come after the Sprawl's hottest edgerunner, but that hardly made him used to it. As his pursuers slowly moved within arm's reach, Spike veered to the left shapely, off the highway and into a more obscure downhill road Spike knew like the back of his hand.
This section of the highway was largely in ruins, mostly because of the worldwide riots of 2016. It was a bumpy ride, and Spike knew that even the slightest mistake in his steering could send him flying off the road at a frightening velocity. Weaving through the hundreds of abandoned and wrecked machines on the road, Spike couldn't help but grin when he heard the shouts of his pursuers crashing the obstacles he had goaded them into challenging. Spike turned his head for a split second to see the leader of the hit team skid to a halt rather than continue pursuit. Much as Spike savored the stupid look on the goon's face, this proved to be a mistake. The wheels of Spike's bike flew over the incompleted highway, sending the edgerunner flying.
Calvin whimpered slightly when he realized he had once again gone flying over a cliff. No matter how many times he made the same mstake on his bike or sled, the crash landing never got any easier. All he could do was yell as he plummented back down to the earth, gravity's cruel whims bringing him down. He hit the ground of a thump, both savage bike and rider sinking into the ground for a few inches. When Calvin regained his senses, he looked up to see Moe and his friends laughing at him from the cliff.
"Aw, did Calvin forget he couldn't fly?" Moe said in his ever deepening voice.
"You wanna throw rocks at him?" one of Moe's underlings asked. To Calvin, all the massive nitwits of the school had started looking the same.
"Yeah," Moe said as he stooped down and snatched up a rock. By the time he hurled it with all his considerable might, his friends had likewise readied stone missiles. Calvin's only option was to grab his bike and run from the stream of rocks. Somehow, despite being a natural reaction, Calvin's flight was laughed at and openly mocked, with a dozen insulting shouts following Calvin through the woods.
The roar of another motorcycle caused Spike to glance backwards for a split second, but that was all Spike needed to spur him to hit his accelerator. He knew these clowns; they were the same bully boys Wormwood Corp had sent after him. Spike sighed as his tempermental bike began picking up speed, athlough Spike could tell the hit team was gaining on him. It never failed to surprise Spike how many hitmen would come after the Sprawl's hottest edgerunner, but that hardly made him used to it. As his pursuers slowly moved within arm's reach, Spike veered to the left shapely, off the highway and into a more obscure downhill road Spike knew like the back of his hand.
This section of the highway was largely in ruins, mostly because of the worldwide riots of 2016. It was a bumpy ride, and Spike knew that even the slightest mistake in his steering could send him flying off the road at a frightening velocity. Weaving through the hundreds of abandoned and wrecked machines on the road, Spike couldn't help but grin when he heard the shouts of his pursuers crashing the obstacles he had goaded them into challenging. Spike turned his head for a split second to see the leader of the hit team skid to a halt rather than continue pursuit. Much as Spike savored the stupid look on the goon's face, this proved to be a mistake. The wheels of Spike's bike flew over the incompleted highway, sending the edgerunner flying.
Calvin whimpered slightly when he realized he had once again gone flying over a cliff. No matter how many times he made the same mstake on his bike or sled, the crash landing never got any easier. All he could do was yell as he plummented back down to the earth, gravity's cruel whims bringing him down. He hit the ground of a thump, both savage bike and rider sinking into the ground for a few inches. When Calvin regained his senses, he looked up to see Moe and his friends laughing at him from the cliff.
"Aw, did Calvin forget he couldn't fly?" Moe said in his ever deepening voice.
"You wanna throw rocks at him?" one of Moe's underlings asked. To Calvin, all the massive nitwits of the school had started looking the same.
"Yeah," Moe said as he stooped down and snatched up a rock. By the time he hurled it with all his considerable might, his friends had likewise readied stone missiles. Calvin's only option was to grab his bike and run from the stream of rocks. Somehow, despite being a natural reaction, Calvin's flight was laughed at and openly mocked, with a dozen insulting shouts following Calvin through the woods.