"How did it turn out like this?"
Megan still couldn't believe it. A murder had just happened right in front of her. This was completely different from the cold, detached words she read off a teleprompter.
Franklin's face was dark. Growing up in the hood, he'd seen death more than once, so the Black guy was remaining relatively calm.
"Franklin, we have to call the cops! Where's the nearest police station?"
Megan tugged at Franklin's arm.
"Megan, don't be naive! We might not be safe at the police station! You saw that guy—he literally killed the heir to a Mafia family! He's definitely not some average nobody. You don't want to commit suicide by shooting yourself in the back eight times, do you?"
Those words made Megan recall numerous bizarre "suicide" cases she had seen.
Like the strange death of a hero from the 1996 Oklahoma City bombing, who was found bound with multiple bruises and slash marks, yet his death was ruled a suicide.
Or the mysterious death of the "Octopus" investigative journalist in 1991, whose research exposed corruption tied to the Iran-Contra affair and the Inslaw scandal, only to be found in a bathtub having "committed suicide" by slitting his wrists.
...
These were all verifiable cases. The victims were high-profile enough to make the news. Countless others simply vanished without a trace.
This is the Beacon of Freedom. This is America!
Megan and Franklin were just two nobodies. The moment they walked into a police station, they'd be handing their fates over to the conscience of the police.
So the real question was: how much is the conscience of an LAPD officer worth?
"Franklin, you're right! So what do we do now?"
Megan realized this situation was completely out of her depth. Franklin's extensive street smarts were their best bet for survival.
"We run! Find a place nobody knows about to lay low, then figure out our next move based on the situation!"
Franklin drove toward the city. More and more police cruisers appeared nearby, but none of them paid any attention to his Dodge Challenger. They were all heading in the exact same direction.
That's right, they were all trying to intercept a purple Dodge Viper.
If you looked down from the sky above LA County, you'd see police cruisers swarming from every direction just to stop Lawson and his Dodge Viper.
"Lawson, two cruisers charging straight at us from ahead!"
"I see them!"
It was a standard American police interception tactic. To stop Lawson, those two cruisers absolutely wouldn't hesitate to ram him and flip his car.
Given the sheer weight and reinforced frames of police cruisers, a standard sports car absolutely couldn't survive a direct hit.
While Lawson's highly modified Dodge Viper SRT-10 was built tough, he didn't want to take unnecessary damage.
After all, there were endless cops to crash into, but Lawson only had one Dodge Viper.
Pressing another button on his control panel, a pulse of electrical energy shot out toward the two approaching cruisers. The vehicles instantly swerved erratically and drastically slowed down.
Lawson seized the opening and shot right between them.
Svafa stared at Lawson in utter shock.
"You have an EMP cannon installed in this thing? Is this the Batmobile?"
Lawson turned to Svafa and flashed a wicked grin.
"Nope! I'm the Joker!"
While they spoke, several more cruisers closed in from behind. They didn't tail him directly, likely terrified of eating another row of spike strips.
Watching the cruisers box him in from both sides, Lawson suddenly cranked the steering wheel hard and slammed another button.
An arc of electricity erupted outward with the Dodge Viper at the epicenter. The surrounding cruisers couldn't react in time; the electrical surge completely locked up their steering columns.
Lawson used the chaos to pull a flawless 180 and tore off in the opposite direction.
This maneuver completely shattered the LAPD's formation. Even the police helicopter tracking him from above had to scramble to turn around.
Using the confusion, Lawson drove his Dodge Viper straight into an underground tunnel. Right at the entrance, he hit another button, deploying a massive smoke screen.
"The Dodge Viper entered the tunnel! Hurry, block the other end!"
Nobody expected that once Lawson entered the tunnel, he simply parked under the cover of the smoke screen and pressed a green button.
Instantly, several mechanical arms extended from beneath the chassis and began spraying the car body. In barely two or three minutes, the Dodge Viper transformed from purple to green.
At the same time, the rear spoiler retracted, the license plate flipped, and the car even converted from a hardtop into a convertible.
Aside from still being a Dodge Viper model, it looked drastically different from before.
Unless you were staring directly at it, it was incredibly hard to tell it was the same car.
Svafa watched the entire process completely dumbfounded, then spoke with absolute certainty.
"And you still claim you aren't Bruce Wayne?"
"What about you? Are you Selina Kyle?"
The green convertible Dodge Viper casually drove out of the tunnel exactly the way it came in, moving at a normal speed.
The police helicopter above and the pursuing cruisers on the ground barely glanced at it before rushing into the tunnel, completely oblivious that this was the exact purple Dodge Viper they were hunting.
Lawson drove normally until the wail of sirens completely faded away, then finally found a quiet spot to pull over.
Svafa let out a massive sigh of relief.
"Little Lawson, I never want to ride in your car again!"
Lawson raised an eyebrow, a teasing half-smile on his face.
"Wasn't that thrilling?"
It was definitely thrilling. Svafa was currently covered in sweat, and things were feeling incredibly sticky downstairs.
"Thrilling, yes! But I was terrified I'd actually have a heart attack!"
"Is that so? Let Dr. Lawson examine your heart then!"
Lawson placed his hand directly over Svafa's heart, the thick layers of softness providing an absolutely perfect tactile sensation.
The adrenaline hadn't fully worn off yet, and combined with Lawson's physical touch, Svafa's eyes instantly glazed over and her cheeks flushed deep red, looking completely intoxicated.
Lawson let out a soft breath. After a wildly intense high-speed police chase, this was exactly the kind of relaxation he needed.
So, Lawson restarted the car and began slowly cruising toward the Sangiovese bar.
With the Gearhead Trump Card, even if someone else was "handling his gearshift," it didn't affect his driving at all.
In fact, the necessary multitasking gave Lawson a highly unique and thrilling sensation.
So, instead of the 180+ mph speeds from earlier, the Dodge Viper crawled slowly through the streets of LA.
God knows how long they drove. Only when Svafa started feeling completely numb did Lawson finally slam the gas, hitting the nitrous for a final sprint.
"...Little Lawson, are you trying to suffocate me?!"
"Course not! Just didn't want you to waste all that positive energy!"
Svafa rolled her eyes, but suddenly noticed a Dodge Challenger barreling toward them at high speed.
,......
lemon ver :
"Thrilling, yes! But I was terrified I'd actually have a heart attack!"
"Is that so?" Lawson's voice dropped into that dangerous, teasing register she loved. "Let Dr. Lawson examine your heart then."
He kept one hand on the wheel and slid the other straight across the console, cupping the heavy, soft weight of Svafa's left breast. Even through her thin top the heat of her skin burned against his palm. Her nipple was already rock-hard, stabbing into his fingers like it was begging for attention. The adrenaline was still screaming through both of them; her heart hammered so hard he could feel every frantic beat.
Svafa's breath hitched. Her icy-blue eyes glazed over instantly, pupils blown wide. A low, needy sound rolled out of her throat as she arched into his touch, pushing that massive Nordic tit harder against his hand.
"Fuck… Little Lawson…" she whispered, voice husky and wrecked.
Lawson smirked, eyes never leaving the empty late-night street ahead. The Gearhead Trump Card hummed in his veins; the Viper felt like an extension of his own body. He could drive blindfolded if he wanted to. Good thing, because the stunning bar owner was already reaching for his zipper.
The metallic rasp of metal teeth filled the quiet cabin. Svafa's long fingers dove inside, wrapped around his thick, throbbing cock, and pulled it free. It sprang up heavy and veined, the head already glistening. She licked her lips like she'd just spotted her favorite meal.
Without another word she leaned over the center console, blonde hair spilling across his lap like a curtain. Her warm, wet mouth engulfed him in one smooth glide—halfway down his shaft before she even had to adjust. The wet heat, the tight suction, the way her tongue immediately curled and stroked the underside… Lawson let out a low groan of pure satisfaction.
"Shit, Linsey… that's perfect."
Svafa hummed around his cock, the vibration shooting straight to his balls. She bobbed deeper, throat relaxing like a pro, taking him further with every stroke until her nose brushed his trimmed pubic hair. Saliva already coated his shaft, dripping down to soak his balls as she worked him with filthy, wet noises. Her massive tits squished against his thigh, soft and heavy, nipples dragging across his jeans with every movement.
Lawson kept the Viper crawling at a lazy twenty-five miles an hour through the quiet LA streets, one hand on the wheel, the other gently tangled in her silky hair—guiding, not forcing. Every time she took him to the hilt and held there, gagging softly around his thickness, he'd give her a gentle thrust of encouragement. The multitasking was pure bliss; the slow, luxurious drive mixed with the intense pleasure made his nerves sing.
Minutes stretched into what felt like an hour. Svafa never stopped. She sucked him like she was trying to drain his soul—long, deep strokes followed by tight, swirling licks around the head, then plunging back down until her throat bulged. Spit ran down her chin in shiny strands, pooling on his thigh. Her jaw started to ache, her throat raw, but she just moaned louder, eyes watering, mascara starting to run as she looked up at him with pure, cock-drunk adoration.
Only when her jaw felt completely numb and her throat burned did Lawson finally let the pressure build.
He waited until the very last second—then slammed the gas pedal.
The Viper's engine roared as nitrous blasted through the system. At the exact same moment he exploded down Svafa's throat in thick, heavy ropes. She choked hard, eyes flying wide, but she didn't pull back. She swallowed frantically, gulping every pulsing spurt like it was the only thing keeping her alive.
"...Little Lawson, are you trying to suffocate me?!" she gasped the second she finally pulled off, coughing, strings of saliva and cum still connecting her swollen lips to his glistening cock.
"Course not," Lawson laughed, voice rough with satisfaction. He patted her head like a good girl while the Viper rocketed forward. "Just didn't want you to waste all that positive energy."
Svafa rolled her eyes, still licking her lips clean, but her glare quickly turned into a wicked little smile. She was about to fire back something filthy when her gaze suddenly locked on the road ahead.
A matte-black Dodge Challenger was barreling straight toward them at ridiculous speed, headlights blazing like twin suns.
"Lawson—!"