The pounding of boots rang out through the prison. The officers guiding Automne down the hall kept eyes forward.
"Lynch 'im, Dep'!" a prisoner shouted. "You talk you die!" Said another; the whole jail block had been packed with Baula's lackeys. The Vale Police department were still gloating despite the countless thieves, murderers, and terrorists they let slip away. Sienaerde being one of them. No one knew where she had gone. But they captured or killed enough to hold a successful press conference, so a few losses were negligible. At least that's the spin the local news tried to put on it.
After months of interrogation one of the "Golden Geese" was finally heading to court to testify. In the end no matter how many deals he could make, Automne was lookin at a long stay in a small hole.
The team leading Automne seemed to know that. They were practically chuckling as they lead him into the back of his own private, heavily-armored transport. Automne, gave everyone he passed the same one-eyed scowl.
He was finding it difficult to look pissy with only one eye.
The two guards in the back with him weren't very moved by his looks and jeered on as the two in the front of the truck pulled out of the prison lot, one squad car leading them, one tailing them.
And what a sound those three cars made. Engines and sirens blaring through Automne's body the convoy flew down the streets of Vale towards the city's largest courthouse. As they went Automne's eyes fell to the floor of the small truck. Guards on either side of him, his wrists in shackles, he reflected on the last few years of his life with sorrow. And the last few months with the most profound guilt he had ever known.
He made himself sick.
The roar of engines echoed through his chest.
He felt so hollow.
Violent tremors spread through the steel seat and into his flesh.
A familiar sensation of comfort rolled through him.
His gut hardened with fury. His eye flashed between the two guards. They were probably good men, but they'd need to die if he was going to escape.
The idle static of the guard's radio turned to a voice. "All eyes up, we gotta motorcycle on ou-zzzzzt tai-zzzzzzt"
The two officers looked to each other in shock. If they had heard the full message then they would have known that a solid white sports motorcycle had just swerved through cars to tailgate the back squad car. The officers in said car were stiff as boards. The motorcyclist was approaching fast. Their radio was screeching like an electronic chalkboard on crack. They went for their guns but rounds had already pierced the car. They didn't even hear it coming, the cyclist raised a large, black n' yellow handgun with a suppressor.
Bullets shattered the front window, the back window, the driver's window, the passenger's window. Blood sprayed as rounds hit the officers. Electricity and plastic exploded from the front console. When the cabin had been liberally coated the cyclist revved forward and blasted the passenger's side tire. With a metallic shriek the car swerved off the road, onto the sidewalk, into a shopfront.
The guards in the back of the armored truck didn't need a radio to know that the job was going sideways. The sound of gunfire, screaming, breaking glass, and steel smashing concrete was enough. Thus, with no further preamble, Automne attacked. He sprang off his heels and rammed his head into the right guard's the other jumped forward Automne drove an elbow into his balls. His fervor ramping up he swung back at the other with open maw and gashed his face with bare teeth.
Tires howled and burned rubber fouled the air as the motorcycle swerved to avoid the truck's attempted sideswipe. The masked driver was too agile, they bobbed and persisted with their assault. A depleted magazine fell to the pavement as they reloaded and showered the front car with bullets. To the recipients' horror the rounds hit not the tire but the gas tank. Metal shards and fire erupted from the car with the force of a bomb. The hood and other appendages jettisoned from the car as it erupted in flames. The hunk of scrap went limp and dropped dead in the road, the transport slammed into the tail end of the patrol car with a loud roar.
This worked in Automne's favor.
The officers in the back of the transport had been able to gain some control over the young man in the seconds before the collision. Years of experience had taught them how to beat the crap out of inexperienced derelicts. They were raining down on Automne with elbows and fists and knees before the crash. When the flaming wreck of steel hit them them all flew back and into the hard surfaces in the tight holding area. One guard bashed his head against the door and struggled to rise, the other didn't even writhe. This was Automne's chance; rising, he threw both fists into the gored cops jaw.
The pop of bone crunching in joint was heard even through the layers of sheet metal separating the front end of the truck from the back. The driver was struggling to push around the burning wreck of cruiser one-ninety-six, flaming bits of the fender were still visible in the grill. The passenger was bashing at the radio, struggling to get the screeching hunk of plastic to a working could have used an average Joe on a ham radio if they could find one, but the damn thing couldn't catch a single station.
Metallic shrieking pierced the air like needles all around them as they chugged forward down the streets of Vale. The motorcyclist was falling into their blindspot and the road was just stretching on and on. Black asphalt as far as their tunnel vision gaze could perforate. They could hear screams echoing behind them, but none of it mattered when they get broadsided by a military grade humvee.
Thousands of kilos of metal and pure force t-boned them. In a millisecond they were forcefully course-corrected in the junction of Venture Street and Film Avenue. Their bodies flew across the cabin and slammed into metal and the bullet-proof window before they even collided with the corner store on Venture Street. When they came to a full stop the driver was through the windshield and the passenger was struggling to stay conscious.
The turret from the Humvee had been gutted, but the hatch remained. Probably for the sole purpose of letting Petunia pop out with some style. "Hoooooly fuck!" She screamed as she raised her gun out of the hatch. "That shit was tight like nunnery pussy!"
The motorcycle screeched to a stop at the intersection. Throwing down the kickstand the rider leapt off and ran for the armored truck. The slim, white leather motorcyclist pulled a brick of explosives from their back and threw it at the holding section's back doors. Pulling a detonator from their jacket they yelled "Fire in the hole!" as loud as they could with their shrill voice before giving that piece of plastic a tight squeeze.
The explosion shattered every window on the street. Glass filled the air. Warm, late winter sunlight reflecting off every shard and filling the street with vivid rainbows… For a few seconds it was like something from a dream, a surreal, euphoric, elegant landscape. Completely untouched by perversions. It was richer than virgin soil. Those singular moments could have made ya deaf but it would have been worth it.
And when the shock waves stopped Eve rose. Twilight Harmony in her white gloved hands she hurried forward to the tail end of the police transport.
And there he was.
Panting.
Bruises covered his face and his eye patch was dirty and makeshift. The police couldn't let him wear a real one because they didn't want to allow him the possibility of a garaut. Meaning, Automne looked worse than crap. Months of life in prison left him with a grungy essence. But something reminded her of the boy she first saw on the airship.
She raised Twilight Harmony and drilled the guard rising behind him with five rounds.
He was still panting from his struggle. His eye never left her mirrored visor.
With one hand she removed her matte white helmet and dropped it to the asphalt. Aside from the fresh, shallow worry lines it was the same Eve Automne had pictured every day since he was locked away.
She made a few brisk strides forward, took up Dawn Tranquilty and slashed the chain between his cuffs.
They didn't say anything once the iron shackles fell to the road. They just stared. And stared. And stared.
His brown eyes on her white eyes.
"Thank you, Eve… For everything."
She smiled, tears in her eyes.
His eyebrows sank as tears formed. "Eve… I'm so sorry."
She just giggled as she wiped her eyes. "It's not that easy." Her voice full of love. She turned around Twilight and Dawn, returning his weapons home.
He smiled, taking them both with a firm grip.
"Yo! What's the hold-up?! The cops are coming! We don't have all fucking day!" Petunia hollering like a pissed chimp.
Ty even laid on the horn for emphasis. "Let's go!"
"We're talking!" Automne shouted back as he emerged from behind the truck, marching at the car with mounting indignation.
"Oh! I'm sorry! Do you want us to leave your ass here?!" Petunia snapped, shaking her shotgun like a bat.
Automne gave a sigh as Eve started to follow him back to the car. The two both bearing a bashful blush. "I didn't ask you to come save me!"
"Hey, you fucking owe us, pencil dick!"
"Yeah!" Ty shouted. "Because of you I can't show my face anywhere in this fuckin city!"
"Well whose fault is that?!" Automne climbed into the back seat, Eve hurrying in after him as Petunia slammed the top hatch shut and dived into the front. The side door slamming shut the three locked glares.
"Hey we didn't have to come save you!"
"And yet you came!"
Ty slammed on the gas.
"You owe us for all we lost!"
"You can afford a fuckin car what the hell 'd'you want? An apology?!"
"Ohhh no! You wish it was that easy!"
The engine of the Humvee roared as the truck barreled down the streets of Vale, sirens ringing in the distance.
"You're in our debt for the rest of your miserable sexless life, you pale jackass!"
"Oh goodie goodie gumdrops!"
"Stop fighting! We are friends!"
The red and blue of police lights followed Team Taupe all the way to and past Vale's borders. A few hundred-thousand Lien in bounty money bought them a way out of the city and a smooth ride to their future. Ammo, clothes, provisions, and supplies were fitted in the back of their second-hand, previously terrorist owned ride, and with some classic rock in the tape deck they argued in style as they fled.
Despite the ranting, raving, yelling, hollering, whooping, cussing, cursing, spitting, biting, punching and kicking they were all a bit excited.
Someday, they'd forget the drama.
Right now it was just them and the road.
And there was nowhere else they wanted to be.
Thank you all for coming on this journey with me. I have a few things in mind now that this story has come to a close. Gonna go back to a couple things, gonna start some new things, but I ain't goin' away. Stay tuned for more, also keep those eyes open for Team TAPE 2: Frosty Boogaloo! ... I swear that's not going to be the final name for it.
See you later,
-CS