They left right away, and it only took ten minutes to get on the highway, it was tight after midnight shift, the summer solstice still shining, the highway had enough cars to get an easy kill, but few enough for an easy escape, that last part was essential, highway patrol were trigger-happy with gangs, often shooting to kill during car chases. The group had chosen an old Hyto hybrid 2061 usilo, a practical car that had enough pep to keep it out of the cops shooting range and was common enough to make it impossible to identify, especially when in stock silver. In the driver's seat was James, bouncing slightly in his seat, sweating and occasionally punching the steering wheel, with enough psycho in him to give a great dane a heart attack, it was a wonder he hadn't started eating the shirt off his back, riding shotgun was Tommy's friend Ralph, a fat kid who was also running with the gun runners (no pun intended). He was understandably nervous being beside James, considering the state James was in, as he loaded the guns they'd borrowed from the gun bank, the storage facility the runners used to store guns. On his lap was a sawed off pump action 12 gauge shotgun, a CP-10 10mm machine pistol, and a wood grain SR-109 "raider" assault rifle with a barrel magazine. Tommy was in the back, looking around as they drove, looking for a particularly slow lane to shoot at with a faster lane beside it. His face hid no emotion, he was exited; the thought of using those guns from a car was giving him an adrenalin buzz already.
"Come on! Let's get this Goddamn show on the road, Ralph, we there yet?" said Tommy, sounding like a foul mouthed impatient ten year old, not a seventeen year old stone cold killer.
"We would be there already, but your dog in the driver's seat keeps missing the exit". Said Ralph
"Who you calling a dog ya' fucking wench!" roared James, the psycho talking more than he, who was not paying the least bit of attention to the road, Swerving violently to avoid a slow moving minivan. James opened the upper side port of the cars fibreglass roof. "hey, move that fucking shit stain of a car out of the fucking fast lane you stupid ignorant soccer mom bitch!" he cried out, giving the van the finger.
"Jesus, sorry man" said Ralph, who was apologizing mostly to keep James from freaking out and crashing, rule one for a friend or someone near a psycho user, never piss them off, a pissed psych user had dead people around them.
"Hey, junkie" said Tommy "can you keep your eyes on the road?" Who had obviously never heard the first rule.
"Fucking yea I can!" said James pressing his face against the windshield, drugs taking an effect on his sense of dignity.
Ralph took this moment to speak up "yea this looks like a good spot, Tommy you want the rifle or the shotgun?" he asked, like he was offering ketchup or mayonnaise for fries.
"Uh...I'll take the terrorist rife, you can take the shotgun, and James you got the pistol".
Obviously such a small weapon would be a pitiful weapon for the mighty James, because at this point, his perception of reality was ruined, everything was a challenge, he was making sure the tarmac knew not to look at him wrong, he was telling the car to go faster like you would an animal, and when it hit a bump and shook, he yelled at it. Obviously he was going to blow this out of proportion.
"Why the fuck do I get the wimps gun?" he yelled, looking at the gun in disgust
"Because you need one hand to drive idiot" Said Tommy.
"Oh... still." said James
"Still nothing James you ne-"Tommy was cut off by Ralph.
"Guys, shut up, remember, don't shoot the cars in front, if they crash and block the exit, we're screwed, with that out of the way, I think I see our first victim" said Ralph, referring to the bus beside them, he was having a tough time moving his girth in his seat to get a better angle on the window.
'fuckin aye" said Tommy, standing up in the car and sliding the sun open and stood up, he slid in the clip, cocked it, and took aim. Several cars screeched as the drivers slammed on the brakes, he opened up with automatic fire, filling the bus next to them with holes, Ralph was cursing like a sailor as he fired round after round into the said bus, after a few seconds the whole bus was riddled with bullet holes as it careened out of control, Tommy was cheering and screaming as the carnage consumed him, he began firing at all the cars in front of them. James was firing at whatever got close, usually the ground, letting lose entire clips in the air, he noticed a small hatch back, grinning, as it tried to escape from them, he floored it. Tommy almost fell out of the car, swearing as he got back up, the engine roared as he gave chase, once close, he opened up at the car, half a clip later a red splatter consumed the car's interior, and it began to roll until it flew right off the bridge they were on, James gave out a howl. The psycho was great, "let all know of the merciless James, and his legendary pistol, "the red dragon'" he yelled, acting like some sort of Norse god rather than a drug addicted loner. This was why psycho was great, it made you a god, it made you care little for the puny mortals in your way, and "nothing can stop my crusade of lead. Nothing at all" he yelled.
With most of the ammo gone and James rethinking his words, they sped off on the nearest exit, Carnage in their wake. The psycho was starting to wear off, and the weight of it all was beginning to take hold.
"Hey Ralph, you see the way that bus took out those cars, nobody could've survived that, how many bodies you need to get in again?" asked Tommy, eye's holding a fire in them, his unquenchable thirst for violence tided off for the moment.
"About five I think, but that's with pistols, still you're in for sure, hell if a higher up pulled that off he'd be on his way to the top, so you're good' replied Ralph, talking like you do when you leave the theatre, not after you pull off a practical terrorist attack.
"Hells yes, you hear that James, you're driving a soon to be legend, Tommy the terrible, I like it, it's got a ring to it, whadda'ya think Ralph?"
"Yea I guess sounds a bit corny, like a family movie villain, but it could work if you got a reputation" said Ralph. "And James, it doesn't matter what the boss says, you're a gun runner driver, and I'll take you in."
James was trying not to cry over what he'd done, or freaking out about now being a gun runner, "Thanks, that's great, but maybe we should get the hell out of here", looking back, only smoke, death and loathing in the air as they drove on.