I recently rediscovered this video. I also have recently read the scene where Motoko snipes from atop Panam's truck. I then thought about Reflex 10 Motoko. This is the result.

And so, I present: Highway Star

It had been a few hours, driving out here, making sure there weren't any Raffen in the area who'd take an interest. Outside the city, then deep past the turnoff that went through Rocky Ridge. In the games, the scale of the badlands was never properly represented, which probably explained why it took almost half an hour to drive this far out at normal person speeds. But she was sure. This was the exact length. The program she'd created to drive her Quadra for her said so.

So she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and started the BD recorder.

Opening them, she looked around for a few moments. Nothing but the badlands at night, the sound of cold winds through abandoned homes, barren dust scratching atop forgotten asphalt. Off in the distance and a bit to the right, the lights of the city could be seen, holograms larger than skyscrapers stretching into the sky, displaying whatever product could afford such a preem spot. But everywhere else? It was dark, a darkness only lit by moonlight, and only discernable thanks to the quality of her optics. The only light for miles around her, was the one in her own Quadra.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a shard. Like others before, this one had an engraving on it, 'Highway Star' etched into the surface. Lifting it behind her ear, she slotted the chip in, and right on the first guitar strum, sent her quadra on the pre-programmed path forwards. The car didn't gun it, rather it began rolling forwards, only picking up speed at a slow, but manageable pace. Which was good, because Motoko didn't stay in the car for long. Immediately, the driver's side window rolled down, and she began climbing out.

The outside of the car was heavily modified, with a grid of steel pipes wrapped in fabric over the room, which was about the only concession she made for safety. The danger was what would sell this scroll, after all. She walked towards the hood of the car, her feet easily able to find their grip thanks to the acrobatics perks she'd taken. Distributing her weight was almost criminally easy, between her skills and her ankles, though the pair of work-boots she'd picked out for this helped. Plus, they looked good in black.

Focusing, she looked at the other modifications she'd made to the car, if only for this one gig. The first was a pair of instrument stands, one for a guitar and one for a Keytar, the latter of which she'd bought purely for this recording. Each instrument had a set of magnets modded into it, which corresponded to magnets in the instrument stands. While they'd take a bit of force to pull out, they wouldn't go flying off by accident, which was important. The second modification was her music box, which was already springing to life. Like ghosts, a set of holograms was forming on the mass of steel pipes behind her, the transparent Motokos already in the middle of playing their songs. Then she stepped up, and grasped the last instrument. A microphone. Not a functional one, but one with a cord leading into the Music Box. The only fake thing about this entire bit. After all, she didn't need the sound of rushing winds to mess up the song.

Had it taken a bit of work to make recordings in her head match up with recordings on the box? Yes. But right now, as she started screaming into the microphone, blazing down an abandoned highway at over 160km/h, only barely able to brace herself by leaning way too far forwards, feet against the windshield, body at an uncomfortably sharp angle with the hood of her car...it was all worth it. Then the guitar and drums, a one two punch. And-

"NO-BODY GONNA TAKE MY CAR, I'M GONNA RACE IT TO THE GRO-OUND! NO-BODY GONNA BEAT MY CAR, IT'S GONNA BREAK THE SPEED OF SO-OUND!"

She was glad she didn't need to blink, otherwise her eyes would be watering from the sheer amount of wind resistance on them. Kiroshi optics were worth every enny.

"Ooo IT'S A KILLING MACHINE! IT'S GOT EV'RYTHING!"

The landscape was rushing past her, almost a blur even to her reflexes, but her focus was entirely on the road ahead.

"LIKE A DRIVING POWER, BIG FAT TYRES, AND EVERYTHI-I-ING!"

The empty buildings of Rocky Ridge were coming up fast, when she felt a bump. A pothole, and one deep enough to matter. Her car would be fine, of course, those shocks were built for badlands travel. But the Motoko on top of the car was a different story. The grip of her feet slipped, and in the space between heartbeats she was flying off her car. Quick as lightning, without even thinking, the hand not holding her mic whipped out, grasping at the very last pipe, her chrome arms, titanium bones, and enhanced tendons all struggling painfully against her grip. Fuck, that was a trip to Vic's later. But now, the recording was still going.

Without missing a beat, she screamed out. "I LOVE IT!" into the fake mic. A one-handed leaping pull, going forwards a bit, and she looked up to notice the hologram of herself on bass grinning down at her. Programming basic expressions and facial tracking on such a small "stage" wasn't too hard, after all. "I NEED IT!" Another pull, and she was able to curl up enough that her feet could dig into the fabric. "I BLEED IT!" Slowly standing up, she marched almost horizontally down the length of her car, until she stood on the hood once again. Bit easier to move now that the car isn't actively accelerating anymore.

"Yeah, it's a WILD Hurricane! All-right! Hold-TIght! I'm-A High-Way STAAAAAAAR!"

Another verse, which she'd elected to leave in as an ode to the original, and to the spirit of Rock and Roll, was sung facing the holographic band in its entirety. The holograms had come a long way, their little performative flairs now handled by more complex programs that could time them out appropriately. Some hard-coding ahead of time to decide when when to change facial expressions, and when to look at their instrument, straight ahead, or at Motoko herself, and they made for an uncanny experience. Especially given how none of their clothes shifted, despite the wind she could most definitely feel.

Then came the first solo. She jammed the microphone back into place, and pulled the Keytar free of its trappings. While normally not her cup of tea, in this one instance the synthetic, blocky quality of each rapidly struck note was just sublime, dancing up and down the deep, rumbling tones while bobbing her head in time to the music, hair obscuring the road ahead. And wasn't that a rush, to be going so fast and have no idea what you'll hit first. Well, some idea; the car itself would send her an alert if it noticed any obstructions. But on this road? At this time of night? There wouldn't be any.

As the solo came to an end, Motoko spun around, tossing the keytar off to the side where it almost immediately smashed into a million tiny pieces, and grabbing the mic once more. "NO-BODY GONNA TAKE MY HEAD, I GOT SPEED IN-SIDE MY BRAI-AIN! NO-BODY GONNA TAKE MY HEAD NOW THAT I'M ON THE ROAD A-GA-IN!"

Then she spread her arms, just leaving the Mic forgotten, and feeling the full force of the wind. "Oooo I'M IN HEAVEN AGAIN! I GOT EVERYTHING!"

Looking down at the road illuminated by headlights. "LIKE A MOVING GROUND! AN OPEN ROAD, AND EVERYTHING!"

I love it, I need it, I bleed it, and twelve cylinders, to match the Avenger's engine, were the only changes to the lyrics she'd made. And then, the second solo. The guitar was in her hands, and she walked forwards, fingers dancing. Leaning over the hood of the car. Leaning over the bumper. And then, as her feet braced against the grill, leaning entirely over the open, blazing road. She turned around, facing backwards once again, and leaned over behind her until she saw the sky...until she saw the road ahead...until she could see the road underneath, a mere few inches away. If another pothole came, there's no way she'd escape without breaking at least a few of her expensive, metal limbs, if she survives. No way a max doc or nap would be able to fix that. And yet, as her fingers rolled through the rising triplets, all she could feel was serenity, surety of purpose. Confidence in her actions. Something she felt so often she'd almost become numb to it. Yet here, it was so intense, so...liberating...

Then the triplets ended. She stepped forwards, spun slightly, and like she'd done it a million times before, hooked her foot around the grid of steel atop her car. And immediately, she was in a paired solo with the previous recording of her self, just jamming out. Was this narcissistic? Yeah, probably, but if living as Johnny had taught her anything, it was that Narcissism was part and parcel to the rockerboy lifestyle. Conveniently, this also gave her the best footing possible when her car suddenly whipped into a drift, sliding seamlessly onto the highway leading into the city. And the, admittedly sparse, traffic on it. She twinged the bit of her control that let her send commands remotely. This was, barring the stunt she just pulled, the sketchiest bit yet, as she had to actually drive the car using wi-fi while on the hood. Thankfully, she didn't need to be facing away from the front anymore. The solo ended, and she was already on her way back, the magnets reattaching her guitar back to its spot as she faced forwards. The mic was in her hand again.

"NO-BODY GONNA TAKE MY CAR, I'M GONNA RACE IT TO THE GRO-OUND! NO-BODOY GONNA BEAT MY CAR, IT'S GONNA BREAK THE SPEED OF SO-OUND!"

As she continued singing, she could see the lights of the city, rapidly approaching. And there was the Sunset Motel, right on cue. "Oooo, IT'S A KILLING MACHINE! IT'S GOT EVERYTHING!" Traffic was picking up a little bit, and she was forced to adjust a bit more. "LIKE A DRIVING POWER, BIG FAT TIRES, AND EVERYTHING!" More cars, this timing would be tight. She could start making out the eastern edge of Santo. "I LOVE IT! I NEED IT! I BLEED IT! IT'S A WILD HURRICANE!"

300m

"ALL RIGHT, HOLD TIGHT! I'M A HIGH WAY STAR!"

200m

"I'M A HIGH WAY STAR!"

100m, and finally the gas cut back.

"I'M A HIGH WAY STAAAAAAAAAR!" Slowly, as the instruments started cutting out, her throat soar, shoulder aching from where she'd grabbed the rigging, she smiled. And, suddenly, as the very last note played, she stepped almost gingerly off the hood of her car onto solid ground, eyes closing, less than a heartbeat before the BD recorder was shut off.

Judy was gonna HATE this one~