Night Rider

Vroom Vroom

... Years later ...

Beep

"Come in, all units. Come in. We got a Ten Thirty Nine drug transaction reported in the area. Over."

The police officer put down his drink. His partner nodded at him.

"Code Ten Ten. Shots fired. Suspected drug dealers engaged in a shootout on the street. Over."

Beep

The officer turned the car back on. His partner switched on the sirens. The location came in, and the officer peeled out into the dark night. The moment they pulled into the scene, two figures took to their cars - lowriders - and were speeding away. The cop car that showed up behind them pulled over, guns out, to take care of those left behind. The officer hit the gas and took off after the runners. They hit the highway going 110. The runners were even faster at least 130.

His partner laughed as the lane stripes blurred to a white line beside them. "If they didn't want to be caught, they should have kept the muffler on their car," but his smile disappeared the moment someone leaned out the window, aiming a gun right at them.

The policeman cursed as he slowed and swerved to avoid the bullets. One shot caught the side mirror; the other spiderwebbed the glass in front of his partner. Other police cars had joined the chase behind them. The pedestrian cars on the highway units were pulling over. The officer knew more were dispatched from the northern department to clear the road ahead. The man shot two more times before flipping them off. He disappeared inside the car, and it accelerated to the 150mph range.

"You alright?" he asked his partner.

"I'm fine. Hit the gas."

The speedometer was pushing the right side of the dial. The walkie was chattering nonstop. They were setting a blockade up ahead, but who knew how many officers would be shot or cars damaged before the runners got to the blockade? The sound of more bullets firing cracked through the rush of wind. The officer heard a pop and the sound of tires screeching. His partner turned around just in time to watch the police car spin out and hit the one behind it.

That's when the motorcycle and its black and pink rider flew ahead of him.

"Night Rider!" his partner confirmed.

The officer was secretly glad to see her despite his unit's disdain for the vigilante. Her bike easily caught up to the runner's car. She pulled up to his window and waved a gloved hand at the driver. The car sped up in fury, obviously pushing its limits. Rider teased the car, waving it over to her. The driver swerved, trying to hit the motorcycle, only for the Rider to speed up, dodging them keenly. Her trick had almost spun them out.

An order was given over the mic and the officer, along with all the rest of the police cars, backed off. They wouldn't want to be hit by the runners if their car spun out.

Night Rider crossed in front of the car, attempting to force them to slow down, but they seemed perfectly fine with the idea of running into her. Their loud engine popped a number of times, threatening to give out if they pushed the speed any more. Despite all of Rider's efforts, though, the car kept its course.

Her motorcycle, devoid of either front or back lights, disappeared into the dark road ahead of them. The runners switched on their brights, but she was nowhere to be seen. Apprehensive, their lowrider finally began to slow down. Suddenly, the car had hit something and was sent flipping in the air. The street lit up with sparks as it hit the asphalt and slid more than eighty feet. All the police cars screeched to a stop. There was movement on the side of the road as Rider's helmet reflected the headlights. She parked the bike and approached the overturned car, her iconic boots kicking away scraps of metal.

She wore a suit of black and pink with protectors at the knees. Her boots were large and heavy. A puffy riding jacket zipped over the suit and gloves concealed her hands. A sleek black helmet covered her head. Every inch of her was covered. No one knew what she looked like, or even what color skin she had. A microphone in her helmet warped her voice to a robotic masculine. They only assumed she was female from the shape of her legs and the cut of her jacket - not that it was accentuated... and the pink.

The policemen had all exited their cars, guns at the ready, but still needed a few hundred steps to reach the runner.

Rider crouched beside the shattered window. "Hello," a low electronic voice sounded from the helmet. The man inside groaned. Neither of them looked fatally injured. Rider patted the car, "Hope she didn't cost too much. I don't think your insurance is gonna cover this one." She reached in and pulled the handle from the inside, throwing the car door open. With a small blade, she cut the driver's seatbelt and hauled him out of the car. She propped him up against the side of his totaled car and dangled a pair of handcuffs in front of him.

By the time the officers reached the scene, both men were sitting against the car waiting for them with their hands cuffed. Their guns and the alleged drugs were set out in the other lane. Night Rider and her motorcycle were gone.