"I am not okay with this!"

Lyohniy had to shout to be heard over the sound of the wind howling around him as his cherry red convertible sped down the road towards the highway. Dressed fully for battle the four of them had a hard enough time fitting in the car as it was, and having the top up was a luxury they couldn't afford. Roan sat hunched in the front seat with one hand on the door and the other braced against the dashboard. Vermilion sat behind him, firmly gripping his lance to keep it from flying out of the car. With her weapon likewise preventing her from sitting back, Cyan held herself forward with one hand on the back of the driver's seat.

"Which part?" she asked.

Lyohniy's hands spun the steering wheel as he stole a look over his shoulder, "The part where my baby is put at great personal risk!"

Cyan raised an eyebrow at him and tilted her head to the side, "…Your what?"

"Hey, you have your sweetheart." he shouted again, "I have mine!"

Roan pointed his hand forward for a moment before bracing it against the dash again, "Turn left."

Lyohniy growled at his navigator in frustration and pulled the car into the unexpected turn. Cyan felt her stomach lurch as they accelerated rapidly through the intersection. The motor churned loudly and the chill of the early evening sent goosebumps up her arms. Street lights began to flicker to life as they rode past and the last rays of the sun gradually disappeared behind the looming city skyline. At the next intersection, she spotted the flashing blue and red lights of a patrol car that had stopped in the middle of the road. As the four of them barreled towards it, an officer stepped forward and waved for them to stop. Lyohniy ground his teeth and mashed down on the brake, bringing the car to an abrupt halt. This close to the intersection Cyan could see five cars in total, blocking the road in all directions. She should have guessed that military would coordinate with locals to keep civilians out of harm's way.

"Great." Lyohniy sighed with irritation, "Which way now?"

Before anyone could answer him a loud, deep rumbling echoed towards them from further down the intersecting street. The officers all turned to stare at the sight of an enormous three-axled tractor cab as it thundered down the road in their direction. It was much larger than a normal commercial cab, and looked to be built for bear with armored tires and a ram bar mounted across the grill. After a few seconds it became clear that it wasn't going to stop in time, and the officers dove for cover. The truck engine roared as the cab crashed through two of the blockading cars, flipping them into the air. When it passed in front of them, Cyan could see it was hauling behind it an industrial shipping container resting on a flatbed trailer. It smashed it's way through the car at the opposite end of the intersection, hurtling it into the nearby building. Two more identical rigs followed close behind, along with over a score of motorcycles buzzing and weaving around them like a swarm of angry hornets. From their formation, it was pretty clear they were acting as an escort instead of a pursuit. The riders all wore dark, indistinguishable leathers and full face helmets with polarized visors. The convoy sped through the intersection as the stunned officers looked on, helpless to stop them.

The ensuing silence was broken by Roan, who extended a hand in the direction the trucks had gone.

"That way."

Everyone stared at him, and Lyohniy shifted the car into gear and sped after them without a word.

The convertible followed in pursuit towards the city center. Roan guessed that they must have been forced off of the highway at some point and we're likely making their way back towards it. He directed them to the nearest on-ramp, following signs that lead out of the city. They entered the highway, frantically searching the tangled interchange of roads for their quarry.

"There they are!"

Cyan followed her brother's outstretched hand until she saw the trucks on the tier of roadways just above them. Lyohniy let out an exasperated sigh and crossed over three lanes in as many seconds to reach an exchange that would take them up. Horns blasted behind them as they wove through the busy traffic and circled the ramp in record time, entering the expressway above. The tires screeched again as he pushed the gas pedal to the floor, closing the gap between the nearest truck in front of them.

One of the riders near the back of the convoy glanced over his shoulder and noted the rapidly approaching car. Cyan saw him exchange a number of hand signals with the others, and the three rigs began to pick up speed. Fat chance, Cyan thought. There was no way those trucks could outrun them while hauling that much cargo. As if in response to her thoughts, several of the motorcycles weaved around them and began to drop back. The two closest riders each lifted a sleek-looking automatic weapon into view and took aim at the car from over their shoulder.

"Ah, geez!" Lyohniy exclaimed in surprise, swerving the car around the deserted traffic lanes in an effort to prevent the riders from drawing a bead on them. The tires squealed in protest as Cyan and the others took cover from the hail of gunfire that erupted over their heads and splashed off of the ground around them. Vermilion quickly thumbed the controls on his weapon, raised his bow, and snapped a shot at one of the cycles to their left. The rider ducked his head and accelerated from Vermilion's direct line of fire. On the right, Roan drew a single blade from his sheathe and, when the cycle came close enough, hurled it into the outstretched weapon barrel. It exploded on impact, destroying the gun utterly, and sent the bike careening into the nearby guardrail. Metal and plastic crunched as the bike was twisted into a wreck and its rider hurled to the ground, rolling to a stop on the side of the road. Undaunted by the sight of their fallen comrade, the rest of the riders continued the assault in a carefully choreographed pattern.

"Was there a plan here?!" Lyohniy called out to no one in particular during a futile attempt at steering the car into one of the bikes that had gotten a little too close. The rider easily pulled away and began leveling his weapon at them. In an impressive feat of dexterity, Lyohniy managed to fish one of his pistols out from behind him in his left hand and sprayed several shots in the bikes direction. The shocked rider quickly dropped back even further to avoid the counterattack.

Cyan tightened her grip around the driver's headrest, "Stop the bad guys, interrogate Torchwick and find out what he knows, leave them for the police to find while we escape."

"Stop them. Right." Lyohniy chuckled, entirely without humor, "How, exactly?"

Cyan winced, unable to look at him as she responded "Didn't really think that far ahead…"

Lyohniy's shoulders visibly slumped as he turned a wide-eyed stare in her direction. The sound of engines howled around them like a pack of ravening wolves as the riders steadily began to encircle the car.

"V!" Cyan desperately shouted, "We need breathing room!"

"On it!" he replied, his eyes never once leaving the swarm of enemies around them.

With one hand on his weapon and the other on the car door, he studied the rider's maneuvers, looking for any opening he could exploit. After a few seconds he must have found it because he began to flex the fingers gripping his weapon in anticipation. His gaze locked onto the motorcycle nearest to him as it drifted closer and closer. He didn't even flinch when the rider aimed his gun at him.

The car shuddered underneath them when Vermilion leaped a full four meters into the air. The stunned rider fired at him uselessly as he tried to adjust his aim upwards, and Vermilion descended upon the bike landing squarely on the seat behind him. They struggled briefly for control of the gun, but after a few sharp blows the rider was thrown to the ground with a shout of surprise before tumbling to a stop on the side of the road.

Vermilion shuffled forward in the seat and quickly grabbed the handlebars, twisting the throttle to keep pace with the others. Roughly half of the remaining riders broke off their attack to deal with this new threat. Vermilion lifted his left hand high overhead and quickly spun his weapon on an open palm, transforming it back into a lance. He then gunned the throttle straight at the nearest motorcycle, and swept the tip of his blade along the ground, slicing cleanly through the back tire and dropping the bike in a wreck. Another one approached from Vermilion's right, and with a quick shift in grip he swiped the lance over his opposite shoulder. The first strike smashed through the windshield sending a hail of shattered plexiglass into the staggered rider. The second cleaved through the chain guard in a shower of sparks and the bike drifted to a halt.

Another of the riders further ahead pulled back hard on the handlebars, lifting the front wheel of his motorcycle into the air to spin it a full one hundred and eighty degrees before setting it back down, pointed straight in Vermilion's direction. He took aim with his rifle as the two of them bore down on each other and loosed a stream of weapon fire in a series of controlled bursts. Vermilion artfully leaned his bike through the assault, using his weapon to swat the occasional shot out of the air. Once they were close enough, he adjusted the grip on his weapon closer to the bottom of the shaft like a jousting lance. He speared the other bike's headlight and, with a sharp cry, funneled the raw kinetic force of his Semblance through the attack. With a screech of metal grinding on metal the lance burrowed through the other bike until it hit the engine block, lifting the whole thing into the air, flipping end over end completely and depositing the rider to the ground.

With more of the escort thinning out around them, Lyohniy straightened the wheel and pressed harder on the gas. As he approached the back of the trailer, the doors suddenly burst open. Rows of storage crates marked with volatile Dust warning symbols were stacked to the ceiling, held in place by loading straps. In front of those were another four armed men arranged in a firing line, two of them down on one knee, taking careful aim at the car with high-powered assault rifles. These ones were dressed differently than the bikers: all black sweatshirts, slacks, and combat boots with dark sunglasses instead of riding leathers. Lyohniy's eyes widened as he began to feather the brakes.

"Roan!" Cyan's voice rang out.

A soft, affirming grunt was his only reply before he sprang into action less than a heartbeat later. Lyohniy's eyes darted in his direction and he winced as he pushed the pedal to the floor, trying to get him within range of the trailer before it was too late. Just as the new group of assailants began to open fire, Roan abruptly vanished from the passenger seat. The gunmen cut their attack short when they saw one of their number hit the floor of the trailer with a thud that sent his rifle skittering across the highway. The three that remained turned to stare behind them as Roan stood up straight and clenched his hands into fists, snapping the punching daggers into position.

The first gunman shrieked in terror when Roan descended on him, and attempted to brace his gun in front of him as a shield. With a single smooth upward slice, Roan cleaved the gun in two then planted both of his heels into the man's chest with a backwards flip, throwing him into the kneeling man behind him hard enough to knock the both of them into the wall. The third stood up fast and swung the butt of his rifle through the air like a club. Roan swayed at the waist, ducking his entire upper body out of the way of the strike and spun around to hammer the man with a sharp elbow to the back of the neck and then followed up with a roundhouse kick that brought him to the floor. The first man that Roan had knocked down regained his footing, as did the one that been pinned to the wall by his companion. Both of them produced a small metal stick from inside their jacket, which grew into a rod a half meter in length that crackled with electricity with the press of a button. Roan ducked under the first stun baton, and crossed his blades in front of him to block the second as he simultaneously thrust a heel in the first man's chest. He continued to evade their attacks until the second man made an awkward forward lunged. Roan turned his back to the man and vanished, reappearing behind him to shove him forward into his companion, who was quickly incapacitated by the electrical charge. He then leaped over the man's head, coiling his legs around his neck like a snake, and pulled the stunned man into the air through his forward dive before throwing him upside down against the trailer wall.

Seeing that Roan had the fight well in hand, Cyan directed Lyohniy to pull forward past the trailer. Vermilion followed them, continuing to swat aside the motorcycle escort as they tried to intervene. Steadily, the car approached the cab until it was nearly parallel with the open driver's side window.

"Hey!" Lyohniy shouted at the cab, attempting to get his attention over the roar of the engine, "HEY!"

The driver briefly flicked his gaze, which was mostly hidden behind a pair of darkened sunglasses, at the car before both he and his passenger turned to stare in bewilderment.

Lyohniy paused, apparently surprised that they actually listened, "…Pull over!"

"Ha!" the driver laughed out loud, "Yeah, right kid! Like this?"

He then turned the wheel sharply in the car's direction, attempting to smash them into the guardrail. With another growl of frustration, Lyohniy slammed on the brakes, narrowly evading the trailer as it was dragged ever closer to them like the crest of an oncoming wave. Once he was clear of the immediate danger, he snatched up his pistol again and opened fire at the enormous tires on the back of the trailer. Despite scoring several direct hits, they refused to burst. Cyan mused on how military-grade vehicles were certainly built to last. Inside of the open trailer doors, Roan was bracing himself against a stack of crates with one hand while struggling with his leg and forearm in an attempt to push off the assailant that had apparently been thrown into him by the sudden motion.

"I think I can stop it!" Vermilion shouted, pulling his bike alongside the car, "Roan! Get ready to bail!"

Roan pried the huge gloved hand away from his face as he gave his muffled reply, "Hrmf… not… a… problem."

With that he thrust his leg outward, tossing the much larger man away from him and disappeared deeper into the trailer.

Vermilion peeled away from the car in the direction of the truck's passenger side and began to accelerate forward, flexing his fingers around his weapon in anticipation. Lyohniy followed close behind, and Cyan's eyes were drawn to the sight of Roan throwing open a hatch on the roof of the trailer and climbing out on top of it. He held himself low, bracing against the intense wind as he carefully made his way forward. Vermilion eased up on the throttle to adjust his speed before flicking a control lever that locked both it and the handlebars into place.

Cyan's eyes widened as she watched him draw his legs up under him until he was hunched on the bike seat in a crouch. His eyes darkened in deep focus as he glued them onto the tractor cab.

No, she thought, he's not going to…

"NOW!" he shouted.

And then he jumped.

The eyes of everyone nearby were drawn to the sight of Vermilion's Semblance carrying him into the air, clearing the top of four meter high trailer by an additional six. Roan broke into as much of a run as he could manage and made a short hop down, using his own Semblance to bring him back into the relative safety of the front passenger seat. Lyohniy cut the wheel hard and steered as far away from the rig as he could.

As Vermilion descended towards the tractor cab, the raw power he absorbed and channeled around him began to coalesce until it formed the outline of a visible red cone. He concentrated into a full head first dive, funneling the energy into a spiral around the tip of his spear and angling himself precisely and carefully at the hood. His voice rang out in a furious cry as he thrust the spear into the hood which crumpled under the force of the impact like tissue paper. The road surface beneath the cab was shredded from trying to absorb the trucks forward momentum without its tires to carry it. As the front of the rig was forcefully slowed down, the back end of the trailer lifted nearly a full meter off of the ground before crashing back to the street with another thundering impact that crushed the rear axle. Immediately after the making contact, Vermilion used his lance as a pole vault, swinging the last bit of his downward momentum around into a forward jump, just as his stolen motorcycle pulled past him. The bike pitched and buckled from the impact as he landed back on the seat and he quickly grabbed the handlebars to stop it from falling over.

"Woooh!" Lyohniy called out to him, laughing as he did so.

Cyan looked worriedly at the destroyed rig behind them as the men that were still capable of moving crawled out one by one and collapsed onto the street. Roan turned back to look at her as if sensing her thoughts and said, "He wasn't inside."

She looked to him in the passenger seat and nodded, "One of the other one's then."

Then she turned her worried gaze at her brother. He carried himself with determination, but the exertion had clearly taken its toll. It was very unlikely he had any more attacks like that left in him, at least for a while. She furrowed her brow and quickly surveyed the two remaining trucks growing larger in front of her, as well as the remaining swarm of other motorcycles that was rapidly closing in.

Cyan gently touched one hand to Lyohniy's shoulder and pointed at second of the remaining trailers, "Get me closer. Roan? Follow my lead."

Again Roan nodded, taking a few measured breaths to steady himself.

"V?" She called out over the sound of the engines, "Back Lyoh up and clear the rest of these guys out."

The two of them look at her, then looked at each other. Vermilion gave her an affirming nod and a little smile played across his features. Lyohniy smiled as well, though his was much more sinister, eyeing the bikes closely as he wrapped his fingers around the wheel and hit the gas.

Two more riders approached the car from either side, but Vermilion was on top of them before they could even draw up their weapons. He pulled up just behind the one on the passenger side and thrust, missing the back tire by mere centimeters as the rider sharply swerved away from the car. Using his legs to guide the bike, Vermilion shifted his lance back to a bow with a twirl, drew back a shot, and quickly loosed a bolt of energy that knocked his bike out from under him. The other rider watched his companion fall, and turned back just in time to see Cyan standing up in the back passenger seat in a ready stance, holding her massive sword braced across her chest. His surprised scream made her smirk, and midway through her swing she turned her wrists to smack him with the flat of the blade. The tires on his bike screeched as he tumbled to the ground. Cyan held her sword behind her and crouched back down, nodding towards Lyohniy. The gap between them and the next trailer steadily disappeared.

"Get around to the front!" Cyan shouted.

"Right!" Lyohniy's hands whirled around on the steering wheel.

But this driver wasn't going to make it as easy as the first one. He swerved the rig to cut them off when the car approached. Lyohniy clicked his tongue in frustration and braked hard, slowing up enough to avoid a collision with the trailer. He approached from the other side and met eyes with the rig driver in his side-view mirror as the truck swerved again. Despite the convertible's agility and speed advantage, they couldn't accelerate fast enough to make it to the front of the rig before getting cut off. After two more failed attempts, Lyohniy growled and grabbed for one of his pistols again. He fired a single shot that blasted away the passenger side mirror. The driver reflexively swerved in that direction, which Lyohniy anticipated and went the other way. On the other side, he knocked out the driver's mirror in only two shots. Before he could use the driver's impaired vision to his advantage, two passengers leaned out of the cab's windows on both sides, brandishing the same heavy assault rifles as the others. Lyohniy quickly hid the car from their view by moving directly behind the trailer.

Cyan placed a hand on Lyohniy's shoulder, "We'll take the long way. Roan!"

"Mm." He nodded and moved to back her up.

Lyohniy tailgated closer behind the trailer and Cyan saw the locking bolts on the doors begin to slide out of place. She grabbed her sword out of its leather strap and quickly darted forward to the hood of the car, much to Lyohniy and Roan's surprise. Before the trailer occupants could get the doors open all the way, she slammed them shut again with a single swing of her sword. The strike also wrenched the bolt into an odd shape, preventing it from opening again. She looked over her shoulder at Roan who appeared at the top of the trailer in the blink of an eye, reaching his hand down towards her. She jumped off of the hood and grabbed it, swinging easily to the top beside him.

The two of them stood up and sprinted for the front of the rig. At roughly the halfway point on top of the trailer, a hatch popped open and several armed men began spilling out onto the roof. Roan threw his arms behind him and snapped his daggers into position, as Cyan took her sword in hand and grinned. The men stood in a relatively competent firing position and spat a stream of gunfire her direction. Cyan's sword wove a defensive tapestry that turned the hard rain away. Upon reaching the first two men, she crouched and spun her sword in a complete circle that knocked them both off of their feet and clear off the side of the trailer. A third man gaped at her and tried to level his rifle. Roan dashed into him, and swiftly cut the barrel of his gun off before dropping low and sweeping his legs out from under him. The two of them pressed forward, disposing of the assailants one by one as more of them appeared from the open hatch. She flicked her gaze at Roan, pointing a hand downward. He nodded, sliding the heel of his foot into the head of the latest man to appear at the top of the hatch. He fell back down into the trailer in a daze, and Roan disappeared after him.

Cyan continued on, easily clearing the gap between the cab and the trailer, landing on the hood in a crouch. She heard the occupants startled exclamation as she raised her sword high overhead and brought it down hard on the hood. She blinked in surprise as her strike glanced off of the thick metal plating with barely a scratch. She tried again a second and third time, managing little more than a dent. Before she could raise her weapon to strike again, the truck suddenly swerved out from under her. Cyan fell to one knee, pressing her free hand on the hood while she glared at the men in the cab and thrust her sword tip into the windshield to hold herself in place. The three of them recoiled in surprise, but Cyan immediately became distracted by an odd warm sensation beneath her palm. She turned her eyes back towards the hood and gingerly felt around with her fingers, then smiled.

She closed her eyes and began to concentrate on the sensation of warmth and the sounds of the truck engine churning beneath her. Before long she honed in on the combustion of Dust inside the engine and reached out for it. As she took hold of that energy and began to draw it outward in a familiar bright glow, the engine began to stutter out and stall.

"What's wrong with you?" one of the men behind her shouted, "Speed it up!"

"It's not me!" the driver shouted back in disbelief, "The whole thing's going dead! How's she doin' that?"

At last the truck sputtered to a halt, and the passengers inside the cab turned their attention to the subtle whoosh of air being displaced behind them. They stared, and Roan stared right back at them. In a matter of moments, he knocked all three of them senseless and out onto the street. Cyan took a few breaths and opened her eyes again, turning to face him. He shook his head in dismay.

The convertible pulled to a stop alongside them as Vermilion raced on ahead.

"Two down." Lyohniy beamed at her, "One to go. C'mon!"

She returned his smile and hopped into the back seat. In that same instant Roan appeared in the front seat next to Lyohniy and the car sped off. With a quick glance, she noted that he was right. The entire escort had been taken down, and there was no longer anyone else following them. She felt her hands fairly tremble with eagerness as they sped closer to the last rig. This was it.

As the four of them approached the trailer, Cyan was surprised to see someone standing on top of it. His bright orange hair fluttered in the winds out from under a black bowler hat with a feather stuck in the brim, and a grey scarf tied in a knot hung around his neck. At his shoulders was a loose fitting white trench coat with a large upturned collar, black gloves buckled at the wrists, and dark slacks. He was resting both hands on the hooked handle of a simple black walking cane in front of him. He stood with a casual ease, apparently indifferent to the circumstance of being on the top of a trailer that was racing down the open road. Cyan recognized him instantly from the file photo Roan had found last year.

"You know," his winsome voice carried to the car over the howling winds, "when they radioed to me that we were being attacked by a bunch of kids, I thought it was just a metaphor."

Roman Torchwick shook his head, eyeing each of them with equal parts disbelief and contempt, "Do your parents know where you are?"

Cyan ground her teeth and dug her fingers into the headrest. Vermilion likewise seemed to take exception to the remark, as he quickly raised his bow and fired. Torchwick almost absentmindedly leaned his head out of the way, using one hand to hold his hat into place.

"Oookay." he mused, "Guess I'll consider that nerve touched."

He made a motion to brush off his shoulder and narrowed his eyes at them, "I'm sure you've all had a lot of fun tonight, but I suggest you turn around right now and go home."

Lyohniy laughed, "Or what?"

Torchwick responded by pointing the tip of his cane at the car and clicking a button on the handle, and a tiny clear cover with a target reticle etched on it flipped upwards.

"Or else the kid gloves come off."

When he pressed the button again, the tip of the cane erupted in a burst of orange hues, and a large prolate spheroid of crackling energy barreled down at them accompanied by the high-pitched whistle of a lit firework. Lyohniy swerved at the last minute, and the shot hit the ground with an explosion strong enough to crack the surface of the asphalt and nearly throw the car into the guardrail. Cyan was more than a little shocked by the force behind that attack. Torchwick snickered and leveled the cane, preparing to fire again. Vermilion's bike engine growled as he pulled forward to a better position, drew back on his bow, and got an attack off first. The arrow went wide as Torchwick spun on his heel and took aim at him instead. He fired several blasts one after another, and despite Vermilion's best evasive efforts each one landed closer than the last. Finally, one last shot struck the ground directly in front of him and the debris threw the bike too far off balance to recover. Vermilion stumbled to get his legs under him and quickly leaped away from the bike just as it started to fall, his Semblance propelling him high into the air. Lyohniy's eyes widened and he moved to line up the car underneath him.

Torchwick turned his body to the side, placing one hand on his hip as though he were at a competition shoot and lazily pointed his cane at Vermilion as he began to descend. He sneered maliciously and muttered, "Pull."

In the instant before he fired, Roan suddenly appeared in the air, interposing himself between Torchwick and the helpless Vermilion. In each hand was one of his daggers, and he threw them both in succession just as Torchwick pressed the trigger. The cane's discharge collided with the first dagger and the opposing blasts cancelled each other out. Torchwick growled and tried to readjust his aim, but the second dagger forced him to hop back several meters out of position, where he braced himself for the ensuing explosion. However, the second dagger did not explode, and Roan tumbled safely to standing in front of him. Torchwick chuckled, apparently both amused and annoyed by the successful bluff. On the street below, Lyohniy deftly wheeled the car into position, and the tires screeched from the sudden impact of Vermilion landing on the now vacant passenger seat. Cyan helped to pull him down safely, ensuring he didn't lose his balance and fall.

"Are you okay?" she asked fearfully.

Vermilion drew in several more breaths and nodded. He was exhausted, but alive. She sighed in relief and the three of them turned their attention back to the trailer.

Whatever else Cyan might have been expecting to see when she looked back up at the battle occurring above her, she was surprised to find Torchwick more than holding his own. Roan's twin punching daggers flashed against the evening sky in a dizzying attack pattern. Torchwick responded by artfully wielding his cane like a club, interposing it between the incoming strikes. After ducking away from a horizontal slash, Torchwick swung his cane upwards in both hands like a golf club. Roan managed to sway out of the way into a back handspring. He landed in a crouch and dove forward through the air with his arms pointed forward in front of him. Torchwick chuckled and shifted to the side with a quick spin and swatted Roan in the back of the head as he went past, knocking him down to the trailer just shy of the back edge. He stood up and shook the fog away just in time for Torchwick to plant his foot in the center of his back. Roan took the blow, but promptly vanished the instant Torchwick made contact, reappearing behind him and transferring his forward momentum into a kick of his own. Torchwick let out a surprised grunt and stumbled forward off the edge of the trailer.

Instead of falling, he hooked the handle of his cane around the back of Roan's neck. Roan let out a choking gasp as he struggled to regain his footing, but could not prevent Torchwick from maneuvering himself around, and dragging Roan off the trailer at the same time. In desperation, he grabbed at Torchwick's coat, his blades reflexively returning to their closed position, and tried to pull himself back up. Torchwick knocked his grip loose with a sweep of his arms, and clubbed him across the face one final time. Roan fell wordlessly from the trailer and landed on the hood of the car below. Vermilion and Cyan each grabbed him by the shoulders, while Lyohniy swerved and slowed down to prevent him from sliding onto the road. After losing a good sixtey or seventy meters on the truck, they managed to pull him into the back seat with Cyan where he held a hand to his head in a daze.

Once he was safely out of danger, Lyohniy let out an impressed whistle, "Man. He's good."

Cyan stood up in the back seat, gripped her sword firmly with both hands, and gritted her teeth, "He's finished."

She touched a control on the inside of the grip, and set her weapon into motion. With a sudden snap-hiss of pressurized air the handguard separated from the hilt almost entirely and rotated around as other mechanisms swiveled the outer edges of the split blade away from the barrel. The serrations of the cutting edge began to separate from the rest of the blade, which collapsed downward to form a support cradle around the sides and below the turbine in the hilt. One last burst of pressure sent the edges hurtling downward, intending to anchor the weapon against recoil.

Lyohniy's face faulted at the sound of the anchors tearing into the fabric of the car seats, and turned his head to stare at them, "Oh, come on!"

Cyan ignored him and turned the barrel of her fully transformed weapon in Torchwick's direction and quickly pressed the priming trigger. The turbine emitted a high-pitched whine as the energy inside of it began to build. Now recovered from his initial surprise at the sight of a somewhat large piece of artillery suddenly mounted on the back of a sports car, Torchwick quickly brought his cane up to bear and fired another blast. Vermilion leveled his bow carefully at the incoming attack, and detonated it with a shot of his own before it crossed even half the distance between them. Torchwick curled his lip and fired several more shots, and Vermilion answered each one in kind. The turbine whirled faster, glowing white-hot from the energy building inside. Cyan had to shout her brother out of the way when she was ready. He complied, as did Roan, and even Lyohniy, shifting as far down on the seat as he could.

Torchwick's eyes widened, and he spun his head in the direction of the cab while touching a hand to his ear, "Turn!"

Cyan caught a glimpse of the driver's shocked expression in his rear-view mirror just before the squeezed the trigger. He mouthed out an expletive and spun his steering wheel as far to the right as it would go.

An enormous bright blue column of solid energy erupted from the barrel of her gun with an ear-shattering explosion. Lyohniy struggled to regain control of the car when the recoil sent it into a skid. She had intended the blast to hit the roof of the trailer just where Torchwick was standing, but the sudden maneuvering caused her shot to go wide. It arced through the evening sky over the highway and landed several hundred meters in front of the rig where it destroyed a large portion of the road in an even more massive explosion. Torchwick turned his gaze back to the car, and threw himself down flat on the roof to avoid a second blast that sailed over his head. Cyan recycled the turbine and continued her assault. Each successive shot pushed their car further and further away, so she paused to allow Lyohniy to make up some of the distance while quietly cursing the circumstance that was allowing this to continue. If she had been firing from a stable position, she could have drilled him between the eyes with the first shot. Or at the very least disabled the truck. In spite of the driver's efforts, her last shot had clipped the upper-right corner of the trailer, shearing away the thick metal of the reinforced container into molten slag.

Torchwick stared at the hole in the trailer and shook his head, turning his attention towards the signs posted along the highway. After apparently settling upon one in particular he touched his earpiece again, "Plan B! Now!"

Without warning the truck violently swerved to a ramp that would take them off the expressway. Lyohniy had to brake almost to a complete stop to make the turn as well, and lost quite a bit of ground in the process. Cyan exchanged a questioning glance with Vermilion and Roan, the latter of whom turned his gaze skyward.

"There." he said, and pointed at something overhead.

In the distance Cyan could vaguely make out the twin jets of a Bullhead VTOL aircraft headed in their direction. Doubtless it was part of the military's response to the theft, acting as aerial reconnaissance for the ground-based pursuit. Thanks to her display up there, they had his position. And theirs.

"It doesn't matter!" she said with determination, "Even if they catch us with him, we'll still have time to get our answers if we end this now. Floor it!"

Lyohniy nodded, decidedly less sure than he had been up until now, and accelerated after the trailer. Cyan quickly checked the status indicator on her weapon and noted it was dangerously close to overheating. If she fired again now she would risk a barrel breach. With a frustrated growl, she quickly returned the cannon to it's original configuration and hunkered down in the car to reduce drag. Torchwick strode to the edge of the trailer wearing a supremely confident smirk on his face.

"It's been quite a ride, kiddos." he said, smugly tipping his hat, "But I have a boat to catch, so this is where you get off."

Cyan blinked at him, and then looked past the truck at the road ahead. She had been so intently focused on Torchwick that she hadn't even noticed they had turned back towards a mountain pass that led out of Atlas City. A huge man-made tunnel opened up into the darkness in front of them, illuminated only by the headlights of the cab.

Torchwick grinned even wider as he produced a small cylindrical device from inside his coat pocket and held it high overhead, and his voice positively oozed with condescension, "Now make sure to brush your teeth, finish your homework, be in bed by 10, and don't forget to take your consolation prize…"

Cyan look back and forth from him to the tunnel, and finally saw a ring of flashing red lights surrounding the entrance.

"No—!"

In the instant the front of the cab reached the tunnel, Torchwick clicked the button. The whole area around him was rocked by a series of violent explosions as the charges buried in the walls detonated in sequence. The first of the now loose rocks began to fall from the top of the tunnel and Torchwick gave a dramatic bow to just in time to duck underneath of them.

No! she screamed to herself, They were so close…!

Lyohniy slammed on the brakes, sending the car skidding across the road in a near-spinout. He managed to recover enough to slide the car sideways, finally screeching to a halt after bumping up against the edge of the collapsed tunnel. The truck vanished into the darkness, and Torchwick along with it, while the road between them was covered in destroyed stone. Cyan slumped back in the car seat, her stomach in knots, and her whole body utterly numb. All that effort, and nothing to show for it.

The sensation of someone gently shaking her shoulder brought her back around. She looked up in her brother's worried eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked her again.

She nodded and quietly responded, "Yes." and then took his hand and pulled herself up from the seat, "Is everyone else okay?"

Though exhausted, Vermilion was largely unhurt. Roan sported a few bruises but had no serious injuries. Lyohniy on the other hand was leaning over the edge of the car, unmoving and silent.

"Lyoh?" she said fearfully, and moved to stand over him. He was awake, gingerly running his hands over the car exterior, carefully examining tiny dings and dents caused by the abrupt stop against the debris. Each additional scratch he detected provoked his ire anew.

Cyan rolled her eyes and sat back in the seat.

"He's fine." she announced to Vermilion and Roan, both of whom breathed a sigh of relief.

A spotlight shone down around them, and Cyan suddenly became aware of the Bullhead's twin jet engines whirring overhead accompanied by sirens approaching them from the distance. The four of them stayed in their seats as a veritable fleet of police cars and other emergency service vehicles pulled up to the scene and screeched to a halt some distance away from the convertible. A number of uniformed policemen filed out with their weapons drawn. After a quick examination of the scene, the one in the lead holstered his pistol, and it was then that Cyan recognized him.

"So let me guess." Detective Greene said, his voice fairly laden with sarcasm, "You were minding your own business, when suddenly they just came at you. Out of nowhere, right?"

Cyan, Vermilion, and Lyohniy all exchanged a glance, along with a nervous laugh.