Bloodshot eyes metal skin.
The police cruisers zoom along the highway, flying the sun like a kite behind them, bringing time and piercing light and bullets to bear down on the runaway Mack truck. Rain eyes the flashing red and blue in the rear view mirror as she shifts gears, but she can't hear them. A helicopter whirs up and to the left. Bullhorns are screaming at her, but nothing makes it over the sound of the music.
The vocalist screeches bile, vomiting the words through the speakers and the guitars thrash in time to her wheels galloping over the pavement. Rain leans her arm out the window and lets the police know exactly how she feels with her middle finger. And that's when the tires explode. She slams the stick into neutral, and the truck rocks and bucks and threatens to fall over on its side, but mercifully it comes to a skidding, sparking halt right-side-up.
The cop cars create a phalanx behind her, and more from an exit in front of her pile in at all angles to block the way ahead. They jump out of their cars, advancing on the cab of the truck with guns drawn.
"There's no chance in hell you're saved by the bell
You know that you are going to die!" the singer keens, mocking. Rain turns off the ignition, throws the keys on the dash, and the stereo shuts up.
They're going to open the back of that truck and they're going to find the coke and it's all going to be over, I can't take all these guys out on my own, I failed the Dark One, I failed Daniel, I failed. Her thoughts spin out in her head, with so much energy and strength from the blood she'd drank and nothing else to put it towards.
The crackle of the radios is close enough to hear now. "We got her cornered, but she's resisting arrest."
"Take her out if you have to," the static answers.
Rain pulls her feet up on the seat, curling into herself, puts her hands behind her head, screws her eyes shut tight behind her sunglasses and screams as everything else goes silent, "I'M NOT RESISTING, YOU FUCKING PIGS, I SURRENDER."
There she sits, shaking in her combat boots that she never had time to lace up this morning, drowning in a dress shirt that's several sizes too big (it's Daniel's). And... nothing happens. Underneath her is a park bench, not the truck seat. Surrounding her are unimpressed trees, not feds. And little does she know, but she just screamed that sentence above in the middle of Grant Park.
The vocalist screeches bile, vomiting the words through the speakers and the guitars thrash in time to her wheels galloping over the pavement. Rain leans her arm out the window and lets the police know exactly how she feels with her middle finger. And that's when the tires explode. She slams the stick into neutral, and the truck rocks and bucks and threatens to fall over on its side, but mercifully it comes to a skidding, sparking halt right-side-up.
The cop cars create a phalanx behind her, and more from an exit in front of her pile in at all angles to block the way ahead. They jump out of their cars, advancing on the cab of the truck with guns drawn.
"There's no chance in hell you're saved by the bell
You know that you are going to die!" the singer keens, mocking. Rain turns off the ignition, throws the keys on the dash, and the stereo shuts up.
They're going to open the back of that truck and they're going to find the coke and it's all going to be over, I can't take all these guys out on my own, I failed the Dark One, I failed Daniel, I failed. Her thoughts spin out in her head, with so much energy and strength from the blood she'd drank and nothing else to put it towards.
The crackle of the radios is close enough to hear now. "We got her cornered, but she's resisting arrest."
"Take her out if you have to," the static answers.
Rain pulls her feet up on the seat, curling into herself, puts her hands behind her head, screws her eyes shut tight behind her sunglasses and screams as everything else goes silent, "I'M NOT RESISTING, YOU FUCKING PIGS, I SURRENDER."
There she sits, shaking in her combat boots that she never had time to lace up this morning, drowning in a dress shirt that's several sizes too big (it's Daniel's). And... nothing happens. Underneath her is a park bench, not the truck seat. Surrounding her are unimpressed trees, not feds. And little does she know, but she just screamed that sentence above in the middle of Grant Park.