DVD Commentary: Sigh... another gazillion months for an update. I can only say sorry about that. When I started this story, I was unemployed and had a lot of free time. Now that I work full-time and have a YouTube gig going I have had NO free time to work on this story. Being a responsible adult sucks balls. But there is good news: my brother got me one of these newfangled tablet things and I got myself a keyboard for it, so I've been working on this motherfucker during my breaks (and maybe slightly after. Ssshhh...) Nearly all of this chapter was done in the span of a month. So now I can safely say that further chapters will be coming a LOT faster. But we shall see- just because I wasn't typing doesn't mean I wasn't actively mapping out the story. Still not satisfied, but you've waited long enough for a goddamn update.


They stopped at a nearby diner, ostensibly for their quality burgers, but also so that Mike could use one of their outlets to charge a cellphone. They ate in silence. The burger was indeed quite delicious. When they were done, James asked, "So, are you actually going to tell me what this plan of yours is?"

"Patience," Mike answered, "and I'll show you." After checking on the phone's battery, he announced, "Okay, let's roll." They rolled- down the nearby streets at below the posted speed limit. Scanning the surroundings, he said, "Let's find some of the locals. You take the right side."

"Okay," James simply answered. He didn't bother trying to ask again what exactly they were doing here. Nobody actually lived in this particular area... legally. 'Locals' in this area meant the homeless. In that regard, there was probably a decent population. It didn't take too long to spot a figure in an alley who didn't appear to be a working a shift of any job he'd ever seen. He pointed. "Got one."

His partner's acknowledgment was to brake the car abruptly despite the low speed, then briefly back up and turn down the alleyway. They crept up behind the walking man. He glanced over his shoulder at them, then simply shuffled over to the wall, obviously resigning himself to an incoming roust. He looked to be over 50 but it was hard to tell- living on the streets had a way of adding a decade or two to someone's appearance. By now they had stopped and gotten out of the car. Mike took on a friendly tone. "Hey man. How're you doin'?"

"I was doing fine." There seemed to be an emphasis on the word 'was'.

"Don't worry, we're not here to bother you," he assured the man, before faintly adding, "much."

The man was skeptical (or perhaps had heard the last part.) "Oh yeah? Then what?"

"Is this your usual stomping ground?"

"One of them. I have several."

"Does that include a spot about… five blocks that way," he gestured for illustration, "and three blocks that way?"

The man's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Because… well okay, we are technically going to ask you to move. You see, there's this building there that we're interested in. All we'd like to ask of you is to go keep doing what you're doing here now, over there instead. Now it can be you or anyone else you know; we just want somebody to watch the building around the clock and let us know if anybody comes or goes."

"So what, this some kind of stakeout?"

"Yeah, that's exactly right."

"And what's in this for me?" the man asked, obviously not one to just do something because someone asked, even a cop.

Uh oh... James feared his partner was going to play hardball and threaten to haul him in on vagrancy or some other offense, but instead he played nice guy. "If you help us get our man, I'll treat you to something good to eat."

"How about to drink?"

"Anything within reason. Do we have a deal?"

"Okay, I'm intrigued."

"My man. Here, take this phone." Mike held out the freshly charged device. "Just call if you see any activity at the place. You know how to work one of these?"

The bum scoffed. "I'm homeless, not retarded, son."

His partner didn't even blink at the snark. "Oh, well, okay." He just showed the contact list. "It's simple. My number is the only one in there. Just don't get cute and try to pawn this. It's an old and worthless model anyway, but it does still have some fancy GPS shit in there so I WILL know if you do."

"Yeah, I got it," the bum replied, seemingly bored with the threat.

Mike went about showing the man to the spot and giving some final instructions. James wasn't paying attention, instead wondering to himself as to the viability of this method, of which he had his doubts. He didn't even remember if they got the man's name at any point. Once Mike had dismissed their new spotter he asked, "Do you really think this is gonna work?"

His partner shrugged. "Eh, it's worked before."

"Before? You mean this isn't the first time you've tried this? It actually does work?"

His partner held his hand out flat and wavered it side to side. "Eh... Sometimes."

It was about a week later that James was sitting at his desk going over the latest reports when Mike came into the bullpen and asked, "You got anything there?"

The answer was a straight no; nothing had come up at all. None of the confiscated guns matched with any of the ballistics dug out of the garage. None of the booked yakuza could be placed at the scene of the crime either. There were no brothers with the names Koji and Shoji/Joji living in Virtual City, at least according to official records. Checks on red Honda models had also yielded no good matches. And his partner should have already known this. Looking up, he saw Michael with a phone in one hand and a shit-eating grin across the face. "Nothing," he replied, a sinking feeling deep down in his gut about what his partner was going to say.

"I just got a call. Somebody just went into that building we're interested in. Let's roll."


They rolled out in the Mustang. James had pointed out that it wasn't inconspicuous but couldn't argue that the retort that they might need the horsepower. Hardy's phone rang again while enroute. "Shit." He fumbled it out of his pocket and glanced at the caller's ID, recognizing the number as his outsourced spotter. He was about to answer it before deciding it better to simply hand the phone over to his unoccupied partner.

James briefly spoke to the man and put the phone down. "Our suspect vehicle just left the place heading north."

"Shit," he cursed again, a bit more forceful this time. They were still a good distance away from the departure point, and their suspect could be going anywhere. Little Tokyo was north, but that was as far as guesswork went. "We need some eyes on this guy. Call Janet, have her get some traffic camera footage."

His partner did so. Mike ignored the ongoing conversation and focused on driving a route between the garage and Little Tokyo in hopes of cutting off their target. Eventually James said something that grabbed his attention: "Got him. He's actually coming our way somewhat. Take a left." They continued on, James giving instructions and Mike making the turns. "Okay, he's going to cross our path up ahead." Less than a minute later the red Honda went through the intersection up ahead. James pointed, wholly unnecessary. "There. That's him."

"Got him." Pressing on the gas a little harder, he accelerated up to the stop sign and turned after the briefest of stops. "Let's jam 'em." He cruised up behind the suspect vehicle. The driver was the only visible occupant in the car, as expected.

"Uh, we're following just a little bit close here, aren't we?" James asked.

"You think?" he answered, making no attempt to hide the sarcasm. "We're jamming him."

"Yeah, pretend that I don't know what that means."

Mike sighed. "It means we roll up on him so maybe he panics and does something stupid so we can get all nice and legit probable cause."

So far, this 'jamming' method did not seem to be working. Their suspect couldn't have failed to notice a flashy police car come up hard behind but continued to drive with no change except maybe drive even more law-abidingly. "We could just run the plates and see if there's anything we can pull him over for," James suggested with a hint of an edge.

"Yeah, we could. You're the one with the free hands here," he shot back.

James typed the plate number into the car's computer at a speed that would make Mavis Beacon proud. "Huh, well that's interesting. The record's clean; no wants or warrants out on it. But the information doesn't match the vehicle. It's supposed to be junked."

That was a red flag for a stolen car. "That will do it." The lights and siren went on. The suspect jerked his head up- he definitely noticed THAT. He didn't promptly floor the gas like a guilty criminal would be expected to, but didn't pull over to the side like an innocent motorist would either. He clearly knew the light and noise show was for him, yet simply continued on like nothing was amiss, probably while considering his options and chances. "Maybe he just doesn't know what to do," Mike sarcastically suggested. "You wanna get on the microphone?"

James started to do so when the suspect finally made up his mind, pulling over to the curb. Well, that was not what I was expecting... Both vehicles crawled to a stop. Mike was ready for the driver to jump out with guns blazing, but he remained in his car like it was any other totally normal traffic stop. But the officers certainly weren't going to treat it that way. "You ready?"

"Ready," his partner replied.

"Let's go." They emerged from the car, crouched behind the open doors for cover, and drew their weapons. "James, you still got the mic."

With his gun in the right hand, James grabbed the mic with his left. His voice came out in a bullhorn roar. "DRIVER! SHUT OFF THE ENGINE! GET OUT OF THE VEHICLE WITH YOUR HANDS UP!" Not bad, kid...

Seconds ticked by. The suspect did not comply with any part of the order. After a few tense seconds, the car roared, the tires squealing as it took off. "Here we go." The officers climbed back into their own car and sped off in pursuit.

The suspect was trying to ditch them with a fast getaway. Having already gotten a good jump on them, he tried to make the most of it by turning down the first street he came across. The officers made the turn themselves just in time to see the car take another turn at the next intersection, trying to break out of their line of sight long enough for them to lose the trail. Nice try, but it's not going to happen... Their speeds quickly exceeded 100MPH. Mike tuned out the voice of his partner updating dispatch on the situation and their position. This little game of follow the leader continued for several blocks before they managed to close the gap significantly. Esaki was right; although clearly possessing an above-average degree of driving skill, their man couldn't match the training undertaken by the VCPD. The perp stopped turning, apparently realizing that he wasn't going to lose them that way.

The industrial area they were currently in had only light traffic to dodge at this time of day. The suspect had every reason to go all out while Mike had to ease off the gas when the occasional vehicle got caught in the midst of the chase. It was hard to judge who had the faster car. The officers alternatively gained ground and lost it. The Honda launched clean over a railroad crossing and slammed back down with a shower of sparks. If they were lucky, it might have crippled the perp's car. Not wanting to risk the same fate, he slowed down as they went over the crossing, but even their car didn't stay entirely on the asphalt.

Unfortunately, the rice burner didn't show any signs of significant damage. The pursuit continued on in a tug-of-war of distance when the traffic became suddenly heavy: an 18-wheeler was on the right side of the two-lane road, and another was coming down the left. The suspect got into the oncoming lane to pass the first, racing the other to the empty space of road between them. The oncoming truck blared its horn, as if the driver was under the belief that the person in the car speeding down the wrong side of the road with a cop trailing behind just simply hadn't noticed it. The maneuver turned out to be a miscalculation- he wasn't going to get ahead of the right truck before the oncoming one smashed headfirst into him. He pumped the brakes, trapped on three sides: the truck in front; the truck on the right; the VCPD Mustang behind. The only open path was onto the sidewalk. He cut left sharply, jumping the curb and sideswiping the buildings.

On the other hand, Mike had the luxury of time to check the sidewalk for a driveway that he simply could safely drive up without such a big loss of speed. The sidewalk was narrow; the driver's side mirror scraped the wall. Both cars returned to the road once past the trucks. The suspect's error had allowed them to catch up. However, there wasn't any safe way to forcefully end the chase at these speeds; any loss of control could result in a flip or other sort of catastrophic crash for either vehicle. They could only hope to trap him if he spun out or got stuck.

The chase continued until another truck blocked the way, this time a flatbed pulling out from a factory yard of some sort on the right. In the process of making a left turn, the driver froze upon seeing the oncoming vehicles, the truck blocking both lanes. This time the suspect decided to turn right, into the open gates of the factory grounds. They followed into the compound, which was a maze of buildings. A forklift coming through the same alley the suspect turned down had to brake sharply, causing a load of large wooden dollies to fall off and break open, rolling all over the place. Mike swerved around the mess (or at least tried to) causing him to go past the alley and crank a 180.

By the time they got back there the suspect was gone, having finally gotten enough of the lead needed to ditch them. They zoomed to the end of the buildings, then paused to look both ways for any sign of the car or which way it went. There were none. Did he go left or right? Right would go further into the compound; left would lead back the way they came in. There had to be a second way out. He guessed deeper and went right. Another building loomed ahead, looking like it went all the way to the fence on the left, so he went right again. They came out into another wide-open area with still no hint where their suspect went. They slowed to a crawl and looked around again. Just when it seemed like all hope was lost the red Honda drove into view from the left, far into the distance. He hit the gas and cut a diagonal path across the lot to intercept it.

As they got closer James said, "Fence." Easing off the gas and looking closer, he could just barely make out the chain link perimeter fence running between them, and that the Honda was in fact back on actual streets. A quick glance left revealed a group of cars, probably marking a parking lot where the exit was. It would take a significant amount of time to go that way and around the fence; they'd lose the suspect for sure on the open streets. Backup was still an unknown distance away. Going around wasn't an option, so he instead pushed back down on the gas. "Fence," his partner repeated in a more urgent tone. It also went ignored. Mere feet from the obstacle his partner shouted, "FENCE!"

"I see it," Mike growled back. The Mustang tore through the fence and hit the street sliding sideways, a rear wheel banging the opposite curb. Up ahead he could see the suspect turn around in his seat to look back. Mike waved to him. "Surprise, motherfucker!" But the suspect had more than them to worry about now; another police car was coming down the street from the opposite direction. The fugitive turned left at the next intersection to avoid it. They followed, the backup unit turning down a further intersection. They shot down this street until another squad car came out from a perpendicular street at another intersection, partially blocking it. The suspect turned right, sending him on a crossing path with the first backup unit. The cars reached the next intersection at nearly the same time and almost crashed into each other. Once again the suspect had to turn away.

The trapping maneuver hadn't worked out and now the pursuit was heading out of the industrial area and onto more traveled streets. They were probably headed for the nearest freeway entrance. A road work project loomed ahead, cutting the two-lane roadway into one and resulting in a line of traffic. The suspect instead smashed through the construction barricades and sent workers diving for safety. The construction barriers proved solid enough to send the car careening off course and onto the wrong side of the road. Just past the construction area was a four-leaf clover design. Unable to get back to the right side at this point, the suspect simply went up the nearest exit ramp. "Oh boy," Mike said, "this could get ugly."

Both cars rode the shoulder due to the traffic coming the other way. The Honda scraped the guardrail a couple times. The Mustang took it a bit slower and made it through unscathed. Once at the beginning of the ramp, the suspect sharply turned and fishtailed across several lanes. The sudden appearance of a car going the wrong way caused considerable chaos among the incoming traffic. Cars swerved and hit the brakes. One plowed into the ramp's Fitch barriers, resulting in an explosion of rubber and sand. The suspect straightened out and took off, heading in the correct direction this time. Thankfully the driver wasn't crazy enough to try driving into oncoming traffic to lose them.

By the time the officers had gotten onto the freeway and through the resulting mess they found themselves already at quite a gap. With a straight open roadway ahead, the suspect could go full speed, clearly trying to just flat outrun them at this point. The other police vehicles became dots on the horizon behind them, unable to keep up. We'll see who has the most horsepower here... It was unclear yet who had the faster ride, but they did have an advantage: while the rice burner was weaving between the traffic in its way, the police vehicle simply drove straight down the left lane with lights and siren on as citizens courteously moved over... usually. It wasn't long before they had nearly caught back up. Realizing the futility of his current strategy, the suspect now simply stayed ahead of the police car in the left lane.

The entire right half of the freeway suddenly became clear of traffic. Another VCPD cruiser was up ahead, driving straight down the middle of the roadway. Mike knew what was going to happen even before they came up behind the slower vehicle: it positioned itself in front of the suspect to act as a rolling roadblock. As they got closer, the Honda tried to go around but the squad car countered the movement. The Interceptor gradually slowed down as it blocked, forcing the suspect to do so as well. However, the lower speed eventually shifted the advantage to the custom street racer. It made another sudden lurch to go around. The squad car tried to block it, but the other vehicle simply had far superior acceleration, and only clipped the side as it got past. Mike passed by on the other side and the sports cars were off down the now-clear roadway.

The Honda was still steadying itself from the collision, allowing them to nearly pull even with it. Both cars were now driving flat out. The squad car quickly fell behind the much faster vehicles. The Mustang proved to be the faster ride, slowly but surely pulling ahead. Soon they were side by side. The driver looked back at them, allowing them to get their first look at one of their suspects. He was indeed young, enough so to pass for a teenager. His expression was a mixture of anger and worry. Then he suddenly sideswiped them. "Whoa!" Michael held the vehicle steady as they ground against each other.

It seemed brute force was the last resort, but James called out, "Gun!" Mike hit the brakes, dropping back as the driver opened fire out the window with a burst of automatic fire at an awkward angle. A couple shots careened off the windshield, but the side windows wouldn't stop any bullets. He dropped further back and swung behind the red car. The driver simply turned and fired through the back window. He retaliated by ramming the rear of the car, rattling both it and the occupant. Their suspect was desperate enough to do anything to get away at this point. A shootout on the freeway was going too far. It was time to end the chase NOW. Before the suspect could recover from the previous hit, he swung back out to the left, accelerated forward a bit off the drafting effect, and struck the vehicle at the rear corner.

With the rear end pushed out, the Honda was pointed towards the median. The driver tried to correct but overcompensated. Another attempt to right the car caused it to fishtail. Regaining traction, the car shot into the median wall at an angle. It launched upwards almost perfectly vertical with a slow spin, then came crashing back down on the other side of the median and barrel rolled into the oncoming traffic. Cars swerved to avoid hitting it, only for some to end up hitting other cars instead. Tires screeching, a big rig smashed aside the flipping vehicle before jackknifing. The wrecked car settled onto its roof but continued to spin around like a top. Gas spilled from the ruptured tank and ignited from the myriad of sparks created from metal sliding across concrete, setting the whole thing on fire.

The Mustang skidded to a halt and the officers leapt out of the vehicle. James started to climb over the median. "What're you doing?" Mike called after him. "Don't go near that fucking thing!" He could see his partner struggling between altruism and reason, the latter currently winning out judging by his hesitation. Suddenly the flaming wreck went up in an even bigger fireball as the gas tank exploded. "See? Aren't you glad you didn't get too close?" Standing back, he glanced upwards towards the pair of helicopters overhead: one likely VCPD and the other Channel 7 News. Bringing his gaze back to the makeshift funeral pyre, the word 'karmic' came to mind.