Almost the exact instant the light flared from the muzzle of Locke's "Silver Dancer," Fox—who had just roared out of the alleyway—was struck by a jolt of alarm. Her right hand slammed down on Wesley, forcing him into the passenger seat well.
Her left hand let go of the steering wheel entirely. In that cramped, high-speed cabin, she executed an infinite curve!
*BANG!*
*THUD!*
The two bullets collided in mid-air, sparking violently before both dropped harmlessly to the asphalt.
Locke's mouth curled into a grin. He slammed the accelerator to the floor, surging toward the Manhattan Bridge!
"Fuck!"
Fox snarled an oath and desperate followed suit.
But a seed of doubt had taken root in her mind. The person behind the wheel of that Audi... he was wearing sunglasses, looking like a total stranger.
*VROOM!*
"Shit!"
"Slow down, you bastard!"
"AH!"
"Get out of the way!"
"Wha—"
*ROAR!*
On the streets, even though it was nearly 9:30 PM, Manhattan was far from deserted. New York's public safety might be chaotic, but that didn't mean every corner of the city was a lawless wasteland.
At the very least, Manhattan didn't play by those rules.
In fact, after witnesses dialed 911 to report an Audi R8 and a red Maserati racing down Third Avenue, it took exactly three minutes for nearby NYPD patrol units to start converging on the scene.
"George."
"What is it?"
Captain George Stacy, who had just finished his visit to the textile mill with Captain Corlen, froze as he took the call from the precinct. He muttered, "I'm on my way," and hung up.
*WHIRR-WHIRR-WHIRR!*
Locke looked up. An NYPD helicopter was already overhead.
Behind him, the speed of the red Maserati seemed to falter.
It was time.
The roles were about to switch.
Locke raised an eyebrow.
The next second.
He slammed the brakes to the floor!
The car drifted in place.
The driver's side door swung open.
Locke unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out of the vehicle in a single, fluid motion.
Gun out.
Fire!
Fox, who was debating whether to continue the pursuit, watched as a man in sunglasses stepped out of the car like he was filming a movie. She cursed under her breath, yanked the handbrake, and roared the engine.
*BANG! BANG! BANG!*
Locke's "Silver Dancer" barked repeatedly, brass casings clattering onto the ground. The golden "little darlings" poured out like a storm toward the red Maserati, which was spinning in circles, kicking up a massive screen of dust and smoke.
Inside the car, Wesley was not having a good time. His world was spinning.
The next second.
Locke leaned down and slid back into the Audi R8 with seamless precision, buckling his seatbelt in one motion.
The arriving NYPD officers were stunned.
"Central, we have a 415 on Third Avenue!"
"Code 415, requesting backup!"
"That's right!"
415—NYPD code for a person with a deadly weapon.
*VROOM!*
At this moment, the hunter and the prey had completely swapped places.
Seconds ago, the red Maserati was chasing the silver Audi R8.
Now?
The tables had turned!
Sitting in the Audi, Locke adjusted his sunglasses. Behind the dark lenses, his eyes gleamed with excitement, and his tongue briefly flicked across his lips.
A big scene!
This was the primary reason he had come to New York.
The bigger the scene, the higher the achievement!
As for exposure?
Unlikely.
At this very moment, this Audi R8 had already been reported stolen. The time of the report coincided exactly with the moment Locke had driven the car out of the Star Tower garage.
Sure enough.
"One suspect is driving a reported-stolen silver Audi R8, pursuing a red Maserati. Targets are heading toward the Manhattan Bridge. Requesting immediate support!"
The officers circling above Manhattan Island, staring down at the chaos below, immediately relayed the information to headquarters.
"Fuck!"
"Blockade the Manhattan Bridge!"
"Move!"
There are twenty-one bridges connecting Manhattan to the outside world.
The Manhattan Bridge can be raised.
Many bridges in the US can be elevated, creating a physical barrier that doesn't require a human wall.
But...
Closing the Manhattan Bridge wasn't a decision the NYPD could make lightly, especially since no officers were injured yet—it was just two cars shooting at each other.
A small scene.
At least, that's how the New Yorkers watching from the sidelines saw it! They'd survived hurricanes and monsters; what was a little car chase?
"Shit!"
Fox, having suddenly been demoted from hunter to prey, cursed as she drove with white-knuckled intensity.
In the passenger seat, Wesley was pale and looked ready to vomit.
"Who is that?!"
Wesley replayed the image of the man stepping out of the car in his mind. "That's not the target we were looking for!"
Fox said in a low, grim voice: "Peerless!"
Wesley froze. "What?"
Peerless?
The "Sin Hunter" from Texas?
How was that possible?
Fox stared into the rearview mirror. The man in the silver Audi R8 was so close she could see him licking his lips. She thought rapidly: when did the switch happen?
Wait.
The alleyway?
It had to be!
Damn it.
"What do we do now?"
Wesley looked up at the thundering rotors of the second police helicopter. He was a tool bred for a specific assassination, and while he'd killed, he'd never seen a spectacle this large. "Damn it, we're surrounded."
"Shut up!" Fox snapped.
"..."
Her voice was ice as she locked her eyes on the Manhattan Bridge looming ahead.
At that moment.
The bridge deck was slowly beginning to rise.
"Shit!"
Fox slammed the pedal to the metal. "Hold on!"
Wesley: "..."
Behind them, in the silver Audi R8.
Locke watched Fox accelerate and grinned.
Since he'd already decided to wait until the textile mill's "business hours" on Monday to deliver his warm regards, he had no problem working overtime tonight to play with the beautiful Fox.
With his sunglasses on, Locke wasn't afraid of exposure! (T/N:- bro thinks he's Clark)
Besides...
He had been planning for this since before he arrived in New York. He had studied the city maps for days until he had developed over a hundred contingency plans for various scenarios.
The NYPD was one thing.
But even for the Hydra agents still lurking in the shadows, or their twin brother S.H.I.E.L.D., Locke had a hundred ways to slip through their fingers. He might not make them "vanish," but getting away clean was easy work.
The Manhattan Bridge!
The deck began to split from both sides, the angle gradually steepening toward ninety degrees.
*ROAR!*
"AH!"
Fox floored it. The Maserati's raw power sent the car screaming upward, like a plane taking off.
*BOOM!*
In mid-air.
Fox kicked open her door and fired two shots, aiming directly at the searchlight of the helicopter illuminating them.
Instantly.
Darkness fell.
*CRASH!*