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Mission No. 56

Zoness
District 13

"Nightriders"

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Falco paced the floor of Katt's garage. It wasn't that he was nervous about Grimmer's impending attack, nor that they'd confirmed he was part of the Black Dragonfish. No, he was nervous about Katt. Last night she'd stopped by the garage, appearing shaken up; but she wouldn't even step over the threshold. She just stayed long enough to deliver Grimmer's warning, then left again, even after he begged her to stay.

Every member of the Free Birds gathered at the shop that night; it was the first time they'd met up in full force. His anxiousness was probably getting to them, too, but he couldn't help it. Bowser checked his weapons, Shani hung her legs off the side of her bike, and the others likewise were ready to hop in their seats and go at any minute.

Then, one-by-one, the Free Birds' ears perked. A faint roar had started somewhere in the distance. The noise grew louder and louder till a swarm of thundering machines swept past the front of the shop. The combustion engines were so loud they shook the loose screws and tools on the workbenches. Above the rumbling pierced the hoots and hollers of Grimmer's Gang, their specific taunts and jeers lost in the wind. They were accompanied by the sound of tires squealing and car horns blaring in an attempt to get out of the way, as well as the rattle and clang of trashcans knocked on their sides.

While the roar faded, it didn't die out completely. The culprits were still on the loose somewhere in the North End. This was more than a show of force; it was a challenge.

With a loud thud, Mouser dropped through an open skylight and landed on Falco's former sleeping quarters—the raised car. "They're on da loose!" he cried.

"Yeah, I think we got the message loud 'n clear Mouser," Shani said.

Falco quit pacing and cupped his wings to his beak. "Alright everyone, all hands on deck! This is not a drill!"

One after another, the Free Birds met in the middle of the garage. Falco looked around, seeing a myriad of excited faces: some old, many new. It was surreal having this many people looking to him expectantly, waiting for orders.

"Well fellas, this is it," he told them. "Our first rematch with Grimmer. Years ago when we were just idiot teens screwin' around, we didn't know any better. You rode your bike loud, fast, and reckless, and if someone else showed up with different colors, you involuntarily-dismounted 'em. That was just what rival gangs did. But we're not kids anymore, and there's more at stake here than our pride. We ain't doin' this for fun anymore. This shit matters.

"For too long, Grimmer's treated the North End like his playground. He trashes the streets, he steals, he threatens, and he fucks up people who get in his way. All our friends and fellow Zonessians live in fear because of him, and there's nothing they can do. The Mob don't care and the Bureau gives him a pass, so either we clear him out ourselves, or give up our home to him—"

"Oh shut up and lemme ride my goddamn bike!" Shani exploded, launching to her feet.

"Yeah! Just get to da part where we blow 'em up!" Mouser urged, rubbing his hands together and practically drooling. When Falco glared at him, he quickly tacked on, "All in da service of District 13, of course!"

Bowser slapped the back of Mouser's head. "Hush little mouse; bird is talking. Let finish."

Falco glanced between them. "I know you're itching to get back at Grimmer, but we have to be careful. If we kill anyone, we can't expect any mercy in return."

He traded glances with his oldest friends, and they knew exactly who he was concerned for. Katt's life was at risk, but he wasn't about to tell the newest members that.

"They have us outnumbered at least four-to-one" he explained, "so they can afford to lose several goons to every one of us we lose. Still, I like your spirit; we can put that rage to good use tonight. No killing… but fuck 'em up all you want. I know you; you've got more guts, brains, and skill than all of Grimmer's men combined. So let's show them the North End ain't their little amusement park. Now who's with me?!"

The rest of the Free Birds jumped to their feet and cheered their agreement. They strapped on an assortment of goggles, gloves, and gas-masks before mounting their bikes. Shani rolled out on a camo-green military motorcycle—though they could never get out of her if she rode it during the invasion, simply bought it from an army surplus store, or of course, stole it. Bowser drove a monster of a touring bike with wicked exhaust pipes and an extended front wheel—a design worthy of a demon straight from hell. Mouser's was a smaller sport bike that similarly fit his size like a glove: red, but perpetually streaked with black as if he'd just escaped an explosion by the skin of his teeth. Falco of course drove the Azure Sky, excited to put it to the test against his arch-nemesis.

The Free Birds wheeled their bikes out of the garage, and Kitt lowered the door behind them. Pukes and the younger feline stood together as it descended like a curtain between them, watching. Kitt palmed his bat confidently, while the vixen wrung her hands as they left.

"I hope they'll be alright," she said.

Together the Free Birds' motors created a cacophony of rumbles. With Falco in the lead, they rolled out of the garage's driveway and onto the street. The roads in the North End were far more decrepit and poorly-kept than those near the city center, but the potholes and garbage only provided obstacles that were fun in a challenging way. The storefronts didn't have as many eye-dazzling signs as downtown, nor were the streetlights as bright, or even functioning at times; but their headlights lit the way, knifing like lighthouse beams over rivers of sparkling black.

It didn't take long to run into Grimmer's Gang—literally. They intercepted them from a side road, merging into their left flank and often colliding together in nasty spills.

As they clashed at the junction, the Free Birds cheered and hollered a battle cry. Shani rode her army-green bike up a discarded wooden pallet like a ramp; she launched into the air and cut directly across a biker's path as he passed beneath her. With fear in his eyes, the mutt struck his head against her rear wheel and flipped off the back of his bike. He landed flat on his back, spraying blood and a tooth or two from his mouth.

The gang sneered and answered back, taking deadly swings with their clubs and ramming their bikes against the Free Birds. Falco saw a glint of silver just in time to swerve and avoid a chain link tossed on the street in front of him—but one of his teammates behind him wasn't so lucky, and got the projectile tangled up in his wheel so he spilled out.

Two gang members harassed Bowser from either side; one rammed his bike into his, while the other swung a heavy chain like a whip. Bowser raised a muscled arm and took the full brunt with a wince, but when it wrapped around his bicep he pulled the chain towards him, jerking his enemy clear off his bike. While the other member locked his motorcycle against his, the croc growled and nosed them both towards the sidewalk, taking control of their shared course with his larger touring bike. The gang member screamed when a lamppost came up in their path, and Bowser forced his bike straight into it. The cycle erupted in a spectacular orange fireball, illuminating the street as they left its wreckage behind.

Even though the group was only half of Grimmer's total forces, they still had the Free Birds outnumbered. There were too many to take in a head-to-head conflict, so they had to divide and conquer. To this end, they wove in between the bikers, trying to get their attention.

"Hey scum-lickers!" Shani shouted. "Is the only reason you ride your bikes 'cause you like the way the rumble tickles your balls?"

"Or is it because it'd be considered illegal dumpin' if ya stopped to park 'em somewheres?" Mouser finished, knocking one of their helmets off with a metal pole.

Amid an onslaught of return insults, the Free Birds split up. Shani broke left and disappeared down a side alley, while Mouser and Bowser took a right turn down another road.

It worked like a charm. The leader of the current pack—an overweight rat with silvery scales on his bike—turned to watch them over his shoulder. "Well don't just let 'em get away!" he yelled over the roar of the engines. "Tail 'em!"

The pack broke apart, with three or four bikes to each group. Meanwhile Falco skillfully slipped his way through the remaining cycles, peering at their riders. Unlike the Free Birds' vehicles, which were mostly flat-shaded with crisp colors, the Gang's bikes were covered in reflective blots of paint that imitated reptile scales: there were camouflaged, green alligator patterns; red, black, and white stripes like snakes; and ruddy coppers that matched dragon scales.

But no matter how much he searched, he couldn't spot the three iguana brothers. He even tried silencing his thoughts to listen for their telltale inner voices, but couldn't distinguish them. That worried him a bit, knowing the gang's leaders were not with the main force.

Eventually he managed to pull alongside the leader; the rat laughed heartily at Falco when he saw him, revealing a toothy grin of yellowed teeth. "Oi Lombardi, ya finally decided to show ya face in the open, eh? Big mistake, 'cause the Bureau will have to peel ya off the street with a shovel when we're done with ya!"

Falco could feel the hate and bloodlust radiating from their minds—and, in a few cases, glimpse images of what they planned to do to him if they ever caught him. The gang brandished an array of clubs, wooden boards with nails, loose chains, and pieces of metal pipes in their hands to drive the message home.

Well, they weren't the three lizard brothers, but they'd have to do.

"Ha!" he taunted. "You shits couldn't catch a parked truck if the brake slipped and it backed into ya!"

The rat tipped towards him and swung his bat, but Falco twisted the throttle and sped off, taking the lead and gaining quite a wide margin. The rat cursed and sped up to match his pace, with his buddies doing their best to keep up. And with that, the chase was on.

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Bowser and Mouser led their pursuers on a chase through the abandoned portion of the North End. The members from Grimmer's Gang steadily gained on them, but were tiring of the pair's antics. Unfortunately for them, they had no idea they were tailing the team's heavy weapons and demolition experts.

The inseparable pair rode side-by-side, Bowser's tour bike and hulking form dwarfing Mouser on his compact sport bike. The croc looked in his mirror at their pursuers, who angrily waved makeshift weapons and clubs in the air. "You are having plan, small fry?"

"Relax ya walking purse, we're almost there…"

The road ahead was closed off with a few traffic cones and orange-striped barriers, and for good reason; it ended at a 12-foot drop into one of the sewage canals.

"We are going over that?" Bowser asked.

"Yeah! But uh, I'm gonna need you ta go first, big guy."

His friend gunned his engine. "Is no big deal for Bowser…"

Pulling ahead of Mouser, he took the barrier at full speed. His bike effortlessly crashed through, sailed over the canal, and landed safely on the opposite side. Not a second later Mouser wove through the wreckage and jumped after him, also sticking the landing—but unlike Bowser, he swerved to a stop and faced the jump behind them. He unhooked none other than a grenade launcher from his back and aimed for the ramp.

Bowser's eyes widened at the glint of the bulky launcher in his friend's hands. "Mouser, is no time for boom-booms! Remember what Falco said!"

But the mouse just squinted an eye and bit his tongue as he carefully looked down the sights, lining up a shot. As soon as the bikers' headlights began to gleam over the ramp, Mouser pulled the trigger. The launcher jerked back in his hands, emitting a satisfying THOOMP. A live grenade sailed through the air in an arc that mirrored their previous jump, landing in the water at the base of the ramp with a quiet plop.

"Huh… puny rat missed!"

"Wait for it, wait for it!" Mouser said with a grin.

Just as the first cyclist's wheels left the ground, the grenade exploded. It sent up a wall of sewage water towering into the air, covering the jump like a curtain. All the driver could do was jam his eyes closed and hold his breath, holding on for dear life as his bike crashed through. By the time the goon opened his eyes again, the road was fast approaching. He began to adjust his bike too late and butchered the landing, taking a nasty spill.

Each of the successive jumpers met similar misfortune, thrown off course by the wall of water and wiping out as soon as they landed. Their bikes clattered away and scraped over the pavement while the drivers rolled and flipped on impact, flinging drops of sewage left and right. All things told, they ended up in one heap of a mess.

Groaning, Grimmer's men dragged themselves towards their vehicles like arthritis-riddled caterpillars. But when they looked up they saw Mouser glaring down at them from his bike, grinning as he smacked a torn metal signpost in his hand.

"Oh, you think youse can just get back on your bikes and drive away like nothin' happened?"

They laughed at the tiny mouse, defiantly crawling to their bikes. "Whaddya gonna do?" one of them said. "Bite my ankles?"

But Bowser pulled up behind his companion; his looming form emerged from the shadows into the streetlight, silencing the felled gang members. He looked at Mouser, hefting his own blunt weapon. "We chasing Grimmer's Gang to edge of North End?"

"All da way," Mouser grinned.

The pair gunned their engines and drove at the members, beating them with their clubs and herding them away from Falco's neighborhood—hopefully, for good.

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Far on the other side of the North End, Falco led the majority of the pack away from Katt's shop. He had two immediate goals: cause as many wipeouts as he could by taking difficult paths, or—in the event he couldn't trip them up—buy time until the other Free Birds could meet back up with him. Either way, if they managed to get him off his bike, he was one dead duck.

The gang members following him hurled insults over the roar of their engines, though those were the least of his worries; their other projectiles included rocks, bricks, broken bottles, and most dangerous of all, chain links. A lizard towards the front of the pack swung one such instrument Falco's way, forcing him to swerve to avoid tangling it up in his wheels. The weapon backfired, as another one of Grimmer's Gang ended up getting it twisted up in his own chassis, promptly wiping out.

Every second the chase stretched on, Falco risked getting brained in the back of the head by a well-placed shot, but he knew where he was going. One last turn and there it lay: a wide sewer canal shaped roughly like a half-pipe, with two narrow inclines of concrete on either side.

Falco swerved off the main road and dove into the canal. Like many in District 13, it was dry save for a few puddles of oily water. Grimmer's Gang spilled in from the side and fell in rank behind him, making up for lost time on the straight way. The pack of wolves gained on him, but Falco had a few tricks up his sleeve.

Ahead, the sewer passed beneath a warehouse via drainage culvert. The circular tunnel was pitch black, with only a thin pinprick of light at the opposite end. But Falco sped right on into it, ducking beneath the arch. The curved ceiling was so low he felt his head feathers whipping against the underside of the concrete.

While the gang followed him in, the last of the troop wasn't so fortunate; the tall badger at the end had no hope of making it through, even if he ducked. He jammed on the brakes far too late, smacking his forehead against the concrete lip of the tunnel. His bike flung out, and he fell backwards onto the canal floor, clotheslined by merciless concrete.

The tunnel itself was hard to stay steady in; Falco's bike kept threatening to creep up the curved side and spill over—but he'd run the tunnel a thousand times as a kid and knew every dip and imperfection. He carefully clutched his bike with his knees, crouching low like a jockey and counter-balancing whenever the Azure Sky wanted to run up the side without him.

The long tunnel amplified the roars of the other engines till they were deafening in Falco's ears, sounding like a swarm of overgrown locusts. To the bikers' credits, most were able to keep their balance, but one in back ended up scaling the side of the tube and flipping over, crashing the driver behind him as well.

The speck of light at the end of the tunnel grew larger and brighter till finally it widened around Falco, and the avian shot into the night. He barreled around the canal corner only to find the next obstacle: all over the basin of the next turn lay a pool of black, slippery oil. Yet rather than braking or trying to climb out of the canal, Falco sped up.

Right before the turn started, he drove up the sloped side of the sewer. Using his momentum, he rode straight up the curve and onto the wall of an adjoining building. For a few seconds he was literally riding sideways on the brick wall, parallel to the ground—in fact, for one exhilarating second, Falco felt like he was flying again.

The centrifugal force holding him against the wall ran out around the same moment he cleared the hazardous oil spill. He rode back down the incline and eased onto the base of the sewer, heart racing after the death-defying stunt; he couldn't even believe he'd successfully pulled it off.

Looking back, he watched as Grimmer's Gang took the turn at full velocity, eyes wide and gawking after having witnessed his one-in-a-million maneuver.

The gang entered the turn with too much speed. Their wheels struggled but couldn't find purchase in the oil. As a result, each and every bike flew out from under them, the riders unceremoniously deposited in the black goo or along the outside incline of the turn, badly bruised and bleeding once their ragdoll-like bodies settled.

A cocky grin twisted Falco's beak. "And just like that, the sewer is full of shit again…"

The gang was so covered in oil that their forms and species were hard to distinguish from one another. But the rat from before pushed himself up on his arms, groaning. "Enjoy your moment, Lombardi; you won't be laughing for long…"

"Yeah-yeah. Now tell me where Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbest are hiding."

Falco listened to the rat's thoughts, hoping he'd unintentionally give their location away. But when he peeked into his head, the cocky smile was soon wiped from his face.

With a screech Falco's tires spun against the sewer floor, and he barreled away down the canal. At the same time, he used his wrist unit to make a call to the shop.

"Kitt, Pukes, do you copy?!"

After a moment of tense waiting, the static ended. "Yes Falco? What is it? I-I mean, we copy!"

He sighed; it was Pukes' voice. "Oh thank goodness; I heard from one of Grimmer's men they're coming for the shop! I-I got caught up in the chase and I'm far away right now, so you need to hide while the others defend you!"

"Alright Falco, I'll find Kitt and we'll take refuge in the shelter."

"You mean he's not with you right now?!"

"N-No, he's up on the roof keeping watch!"

"Oh great… Well, get him to come down as fast as you can and take shelter; the garage doors should hold them, but I don't want to take any chances. I'll call the others and see if they can get to you soon. Don't fight them, you understand? Don't fight them! And remember, we prepared in case something like this happened!"

But all Falco heard in response were squealing tires and a sudden crash of metal, followed by Pukes' scream.

"Pukes!" he yelled.

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The vixen tripped backwards, landing on the floor. A truck had just rammed through the garage door, rending the metal slats in two. The driver put the truck in reverse and pulled out, leaving a gaping hole in the mess he'd made. Soon appearing to fill said hole were four members of Grimmer's Gang, the rest of the Free Birds guarding the shop left unconscious or groaning, stretched out on the ground.

At the head of the four stood Dimmer, tapping a board with a nail through one end against his palm. His head swiveled left and right till he caught sight of Pukes scrambling away on the floor. He smiled evilly. "Well, it looks like you're all alone now!" he said in a patronizing pout.

The other members laughed and swung their weapons impatiently, slowly advancing on her.

"Maybe this'll teach ya to cook for a moron like—"

"She's not alone!" a voice corrected.

Before they could reach Pukes, a small feline dropped down from above, landing between them. Kitt brandished a metal baseball bat and glared at Dimmer defiantly, readying to hit a grand slam with the lizard's head.

While surprised at first, the gang began to shake with laughter. "Seriously?" one of the thugs said. "Lombardi left a little twerp on guard duty? He must not care about either o' you that much."

"No reason to complain," Dimmer said, advancing once again. "This squirt's the little brother of Falco's tail. We can have twice the fun—"

At that moment the door to Katt's private workroom burst open, flying clear off its hinges. A cacophony of mechanical screeches pierced the garage, and out walked Bruiser, Pietro's robotic assistant—fully repaired, and fully operational. He stopped just outside the doorway and swiveled his head to face the group of Zonessians.

"I require oil replenishment."

Dimmer scowled; the look in the robot's blank eyes suggested he intended to squeeze all the oil he needed from their veins. "I thought that tin can was out o' commission!"

The robot's head snapped towards the iguana, focusing his empty yellow eyes on him. "If you do not intend to make a purchase, please leave the shop."

"It's just a bucket o' bolts!" one of Dimmer's men said. "We can take it!"

Dimmer pointed his spiked plank. "Alright loose screws, prepare to meet your maker!"

Bruiser whirred for a second. "Request to speak to the manager—DENIED."

The men charged him, but Bruiser was too quick; he saw each of their blows coming beforehand and calculated the appropriate deflection so that every attack simply glanced off his arms. Then whenever he sensed an opening, he struck back with a punch too quick for the eye to follow. Even outnumbered four-to-one, it wasn't a fair fight—nor was it easy to attack him all at once in the cramped space between the cars.

Swollen and badly beaten, Dimmer and his men backed off from the metal monster. With a claw over his newly-broken nose, Dimmer pulled out his pistol and fired shot after shot at the robot, but the bullets pinged off his hard exterior.

Bruiser walked forward with squeaking joints, undaunted. "Careful, please. Store policy is, 'you break it, you buy it.'"

"It won't stop!"

"RUN!"

The gang turned to scramble out through the hole they'd made, but Bruiser caught a hold of the one in back. Arms and legs flailing helplessly, the robot lifted the poor creature above his head and carried him to the garage door. Once outside, he unceremoniously hurled his victim several yards down the street.

Kitt and Pukes rushed to the hole in the door, the feline running out to swing his bat while the vixen stayed behind to cautiously peak through. "And stay out!" Kitt yelled.

Bruiser waved to the fleeing members. "Please visit our website to answer a brief survey about your experience today. You will receive a free air-pressure checkup next visit."

"Since when was Bruiser working again?" Pukes asked. "I thought Katt was working on Falco's bike instead!"

They heard footsteps behind them and turned to see a figure stepping out of the backroom.

Kitt's eyes widened. "No way! When did you—?!"

"Nevermind that! Where's Falco?!"

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Falco whizzed across the North End, gut churning at what might befall Pukes and Kitt. He cursed himself for not suspecting some sort of dirty trick up the Gang's sleeve. He should've left more men. He should've reinforced the door. He should've made them stay anywhere else! He only hoped he could reach the shop in time—

But a chain flew from nowhere and wrapped itself around his arms. As he sped past, the coils constricted tightly around his wrists. The slack ran out, and Falco was jerked straight from his bike, cutting his thoughts off. He crashed painfully on his side while the Azure Sky clattered to the street.

Growling, he looked up to see none other than Scrimmer seated on his motorcycle. The black-and-purple-scaled iguana grinned down at him. "Well-well-well, look at the little birdie I caught!"

Falco's eyes followed the links to the back of Scrimmer's onyx motorcycle, where the lizard had attached the end to a hitch. When he realized what the lizard was up to, his stomach sank.

Scrimmer kicked his stand and revved the engine. "Why don't we have some fun around the block?"

The avian stood and frantically tore at the coils around his wrists, but they had wound too tight; the links towards the end acted magnetic and clung together stubbornly.

"This will pay for what you did to my brother—and for daring to show your face in the North End again. But don't worry, when I finish dragging you around, you won't have much of a face left to show!" The iguana threw his head back to release a wicked laugh and took off.

In a last ditch effort, Falco blitzed the motorbike—but he couldn't keep up. Soon the slack ran out and the chain snapped taught, jerking him off his feet and onto the ground. Scrimmer mercilessly dragged him over the road, the asphalt tearing at his clothes and feathers. Falco felt every rock, pothole, and shard of glass he passed over—painfully. Yet there was nothing he could do; the chain stayed taught, leaving no chance for him to wiggle his arms free and get off the lizard's wild ride. It would only be so long before his clothes turned to rags and the asphalt flayed the skin from his bones.

Of all the ways Falco imagined himself dying, being dragged to death over the grime-covered streets of his childhood was the last. Already the road had torn through his cargo pants to his knees, ripping the feathers clean off. It was quickly tearing through his jacket, too, so Falco twisted onto his back. All it did was transition the pain to his spine and ass, but at least it alleviated the road burn on his knees for the time being. The constant buffeting of the road left him dizzy and completely turned around till he lost track of where the iguana was taking him. For now all he could do was hold on and pray.

But Scrimmer showed no sign of slowing down. He raced through the streets of the North End, taking pleasure in finding the dirtiest, most run-down sections to rake Falco across. His maniacal laughs, gleeful stare, and blatant schadenfreude reminded the bird of a particular lizard he never wanted to meet again, but apparently the universe was full of his kind…

The lizard squeezed the throttle even harder, and the road tore at Falco's back with increasing force. The last shreds of his jacket and shirt gave way, leaving nothing between his shoulders and the asphalt. A searing pain tore at his back, and Falco clenched his beak to keep from crying out. But the pain only grew in intensity, and he soon felt blood spilling down his spine.

Then, he heard it; rising over the sound of Scrimmer's engine was a second motor. He twisted around to see his own blue-and-red bike approaching from the rear—only now someone else was riding it.

"Katt!" he shouted back, spirits soaring. "You crazy girl—what are you doing here?!"

"Hang on, Falco!" she yelled, the whine of her engine growing louder. "I'm almost there!"

Falco tried to hang on, but it was difficult; he gasped in pain and jammed his eyes shut. It felt like he was slipping from reality, and at this rate he would pass out any second from the excruciating sensation.

Scrimmer looked back to see what was up, but ended up running into a pile of trashcans. The garbage spilled all around Falco, and the lizard had to slow to regain his balance.

Falco's shoulder bumped against an upside-down trashcan lid. He seized the opportunity and flipped over onto it, laying on his stomach and removing his bloodied back from harm's way—just in time too, for Scrimmer recovered and sped off again.

It was tricky business, but with careful balance, Falco managed to keep the trashcan lid underneath him. The metal screeched noisily as it scraped over the road, bursts of orange sparks lighting the dark asphalt.

Katt steadily gained ground till she caught up to Falco, who wobbled precariously on the trashcan lid. She bent low to pick him up, but when she tried to heave him onto the Azure Sky the bike listed dangerously and almost fell on top of him. "Shit!" Katt released him and swung her weight to the opposite side, struggling to maintain balance while Falco jerked back onto the lid.

"Forget me!" he growled. "Catch up to Scrimmer!"

Katt merely nodded and pulled ahead, driving between Falco and the iguana. The lizard looked over his shoulder again, eyes widening when he noticed the Azure Sky gaining on him. He scowled and hunkered lower over his handlebars.

What's this motherfucker up to? Falco asked himself.

Concentrating, he listened for the reptile's thoughts. Beneath several layers of the lizard's fear, excitement, and hatred, he began to make out a series of flashing images. He put them together to realize Scrimmer intended to ditch him quick so he could focus on Katt. His preferred method was letting Falco swing out wide when he made a turn, dashing him against a wall and covering it with some new bird-brain-colored graffiti.

Looking ahead, Falco saw the turn the lizard had chosen coming up. Just as he'd predicted, Scrimmer slowed to take the corner at a sharp angle while letting Falco's momentum carry him on into the wall—but by now the avian had a plan.

As Scrimmer made the turn, Falco got his legs underneath him and crouched with shaking knees on the trashcan lid as if it were a skateboard. He pulled as far back on the chain as he could, pushing the lid out in front of him while maintaining his balance. He swung out and continued on towards the wall at the corner of the turn, but at the last second before the impact, Falco rode the lid up the side of a few bags of trash until he was skidding the metal shield up the wall. He pulled the chain in, allowing him to slide along the bricks like a surfer on a towering wave.

"Oh SHIIIIIIIIIIIT!" he squawked.

He continued into the turn Scrimmer had made, but at the end the chain caught on a street lamp, and Falco found himself jerked from both the lid and the wall. He fell to the sidewalk, slamming his shoulder into the concrete with a pained grunt while the lid clattered next to him. While not as spectacular or graceful as he'd hoped, he'd avoided being dashed against the wall.

Scrimmer cursed and started to speed off again—but Falco wasn't done yet. Before the slack in the chain could run out, he got to his feet and threw himself over the part of the chain that wrapped around the lamppost. In this manner he'd essentially tied a loose knot around the pole.

Scrimmer drove off without noticing what Falco was up to; he was more preoccupied with Katt being right on his tail. But as soon as the chain ran out, his bike abruptly jerked to a stop, and the iguana went sailing clear over his handlebars. At the speed he was going, he landed several yards away and skidded a few more, flipping and rolling end-over-end. Finally he crashed into another heap of trashcans and garbage, coming to an abrupt halt.

For a second Katt felt torn between beating the iguana to a pulp and tending to Falco. Eventually she just pulled alongside Scrimmer's toppled bike, bent over to remove his keys from the ignition, and drove away.

"You… bitch…" Scrimmer spat, struggling and failing to get up.

When Katt got to Falco he was lying on his back, shaking with quiet, unhinged laughter. "Oh man… seeing Scrimmer's bike get ripped right out from under his ass was worth this! Did you see the look on his face when he flipped over his handlebars?! I'd let myself get dragged a mile over broken glass to see that again."

Katt leaned Falco's bike on its kickstand and dismounted, kneeling next to him. "Shh! Falco you idiot, you look like shit! You're bleeding from… well, everywhere."

"Good: you always did like cardinals better," he tried to joke, but ended up wincing.

The feline undid his chains, lifted his arm over her shoulder, and helped him up. She sat on his bike while Falco plopped down behind her, leaning against her back and hugging her stomach.

"Say… this looks an awful lot like my new bike: the one I lost recently."

"Dimmer attacked the shop, but I managed to fix Bruiser in time. Then I found the Sky without my Falco on it and feared the worst, so I hid my bike in an alley and took yours."

"But, how did you find me?" he groaned. "How did—?"

She looked away. "That's… not important right now."

"Still, you shouldn't have come for me! What will Grimmer do?"

"I don't know… but I couldn't just let him kill you, could I?! He doesn't own me."

He smirked. "Heh, well… thanks. It's a good thing you showed up when you did, or my guts'd be spread over every street in the North End by now."

Katt hissed, noticing the blood his arms left on her shirt. "Looks like half of them are already. I need to get you back to the shop before you bleed out—"

A bright orange light flared in the street beyond; there, in the darkness between the streetlights, licked a bouquet of red-hot flames. They reflected off the paint of a motorcycle—and the green scales and yellow slit eyes of the lizard sitting atop it. The rider slowly rolled his bike beneath a street lamp, revealing himself to be Grimmer. The Dragon's Breath roared beneath him, a monster of a motorcycle with iridescent emerald paint and a large fairing crafted into a dragon head. Tongues of fire continued to curl up from the maw, causing the air in front of Grimmer's face to waver slightly. His reptilian eyes glanced away for a second, taking note of his brother's body struggling to leave the pile of trash he'd landed in. When they flicked back to Falco and Katt, they burned with a new fire all their own. He didn't speak a word.

But he revved his bike.

Eyes narrowing at Grimmer, Falco unwrapped his arms from Katt's waist and sat up. "Katt, I'm gonna need my bike now."

But the feline gripped the handlebars tighter. She looked over her shoulder, clenching her teeth. "Falco, I can't let you fight him like that! You're badly wounded! If you're doing this for me, don't!"

"Sorry kitten, but I gotta do this. I have the chance to end it all here."

Katt's knuckles turned white around the handlebars, but eventually she exhaled and released them. Reluctantly she dismounted, allowing Falco to scoot forward and take the reins. "Alright Falco, if you're hellbent on it. But remember, I just saved your life. Don't throw it away so soon…"

He smiled sadly. "It's a gamble I'll have to take sooner or later. I just choose sooner."

Falco gunned the Azure Sky, and the two opponents balanced precariously on the street, facing one another. Anxiousness churned in his stomach. Even across the few hundred feet that lay between them, he could feel every breath Grimmer took, every heartbeat, and every enraged thought. The lizard was dead set on killing him right then and there, running him over if he had to.

When the tension between them reached its climax, they both let off the clutch. Their bikes started forward, rapidly picking up speed while barreling towards each other.

Falco knew his best-case scenario would be to pass so close to Grimmer he caused the iguana to freak and wipe out. Worst case, they'd collide head-on and wreck their bikes, most likely resulting in Falco receiving worse injuries since both his body and vehicle were lighter than Grimmer's.

The seconds counted down fast like the ticks of a timebomb. The stores and cars lining the side of the road began to pass Falco in a blur. Grimmer pulled the lever that made his motorcycle spit flames, the fires whipping around its sides like the tail of a meteor.

Carefully Falco adjusted his bike, aiming to pass right next to Grimmer's with less than a hair's breadth between them. He gritted his teeth; he had to be careful. He was close enough to see the yellow flecks in his eyes now. One more second and they'd—

A blinding white light shone across Grimmer, and the lizard's eyes widened. He threw up his hands and swerved wildly, unable to see where he was going. With several hundred pounds of unpredictable chaos barreling his way, Falco veered off. He wheeled the bike around to face Grimmer, noticing police vehicles now filled the street behind them.

"This is the D-13 Police Department," a voice blared over a megaphone, echoing between the buildings. "You are all under arrest! Dismount from your vehicles and kneel on the ground, or we may be required to use lethal force!"

"Fuck," was all Falco managed to get out. He squeezed the throttle and sped back past Grimmer directly towards the police cars and bikes—but he had no intention of surrendering. Before they could close in, he pulled up alongside Katt, who hopped on behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Someone… didn't like us… playin' around!" Falco grinned through the pain.

"Stop talking and let's get the hell out of here!" Katt urged.

The rest of Grimmer's Gang converged on the block at the same time, pouring in from adjoining alleys. They halted when they saw the police vehicles, which now blared sirens and flashed red-and-blue lights.

"Get back! Scram!" they cried, turning around and making a break for it. Grimmer managed to recover and pull his brother onto his bike, then disappeared down a side alley. Falco drove Katt away from the police cars while a group of gang members followed him—though they didn't seem to be concerned with him in the slightest now that they had bigger worries on their tails.

All around Falco, the Bureau police tried to capture the retreating motorists. Some rammed their cars into the gang's bikes, pouncing on those that fell off and beating them with batons. Others unrolled spiked barriers across the street exits to puncture their tires, and still others managed to pull close enough to tase the members right off their bikes; it was a complete rout.

Up ahead, Falco noticed a white streak of light glinting off something that stretched across the street. It almost looked like a spiderweb strand, but at the last moment he realized what it was.

"DUCK!" he yelled, lowering his head.

Katt complied, hunching down without question. A thin wire whipped over their heads as they drove by, passing so close it combed over Falco's headfeathers. The gang members behind weren't as eagle-eyed; one by one, they ran into the wire, which clotheslined them at the neck. Each fell off his motorcycle, landing on the street while their bikes flew out from under them. The police quickly converged on the downed members, but by the time they reached them, Falco and Katt were long gone.

The avian drove his companion back towards the shop. The sound of the sirens faded behind them, along with the flashing lights and the voice over the megaphone. Besides the purring motor of the Azure Sky, the streets were silent again.

Turning his radio on, Falco broadcast a message to the rest of the Free Birds. "Call off the chase! Every officer in the damn district arrived to break up the fight; they're arresting people from Grimmer's Gang now. We'll regroup at the… shop…"

Falco's grip on the handlebars weakened, and the cycle began to slow and wobble. Clouds of black sprouted from the edges of his vision, his eyelids and head feeling heavy. His muscles finally gave out, and he slumped forward on the bike.

"Falco?" Katt asked, concern twinging her voice. "Falco?!"

But the avian slipped off and fell to the cold, hard bed of the street.