24.
It was a big ass Caddy. Black on black. Tinted windows, gold plated chrome. The DTS, a bastard shark creeping the city streets. On the prowl, looking to kick ass. Stuffed with three beef cakes. Moose worked the wheel, Max rode shotgun, Dom took the back. They spotted Steve on the walk.
Through the windshield, the rush. Steve turned, and booked ass. Moose gunned the gas. Steve cut away, draining an alley.
Moose cooled it to a soft cruise, hovering by Steve’s wake. They watched him dissolve. Moose peeled out, blitzing an intersection.
Wide open, he hovered in the box beneath a red light. He punched two lefts. In seconds, they were at the alley’s feed. Max and Dom left the ride. They eyeballed. The cross street, and intersection. No way this guy peeled the street.
Moose blew the horn, and punched the gas in park. The signal. Steve hatched out the back, burning off. Max and Dom hopped into the DTS and Moose followed.
Steve sprinted towards a bus station two blocks out. He kicked in the after burners. He crossed the first street, focus fixed on the station. The DTS screeched the intersection, blocking the path to the terminal entrance.
Steve turned back. The DTS spotted him, and Moose fishtailed through the intersection. Steve scaled a fence, and landed in an open lot. A pen for delivery vans. A handful sprinkled the lot. The DTS closed in. Pistons howled, headlights pierced a dark corner. The DTS, head on, smashed the gate. The chain linked fence blew open, as the DTS skidded across the slick tarmac.
Steve ducked between a row of vans, set up like pins.
Frantic, he grabbed every door handle he could. One after the other, locked. Moose straightened out, and creeped the lot. Max and Dom on foot, horned the slotted vans.
Steve found an opening, and huddled in the shell of the van.
Through a van windshield, Max and Dom prowled. Max and Dom peered in van windows, and jimmied locked doors. Steve remained crouched, and silent. The goons gooned. Pounding rear doors with clenched fists. More gooning.
"He's inside, man--I fuckin' know it," said Max. Dom called out, "You could run, but you can't hide, Steve."
The van cranked over. Max and Dom looked. Steve popped behind the wheel, screeching from the slot. Steve straightened out the van, scrambling off. He shot across the lot, then locked the brakes. No exit. Steve slid across the slick pavement. Dom and Max pulled their pistols.
Steve slammed the shifter, and pressed the gas. The van jumped into reverse. Steve locked the brakes again. In the side view mirror, Max. Huffing towards Steve, pistol pointed. In the passenger side view, Dom. Ditto. Steve pulled the shifter down, punching the gas. He cut the wheel, and fishtailed the van back.
Steve straightened her out, steaming towards Dom and Max.
The goons took aim, firing at Steve. Bullets struck the van's windshield and body. Steve's vision obstructed by pocks smearing the screen. He cut the wheel to the right, shaking Max, as he lunged for cover. Dom continued firing, as Steve rocketed past.
Steve kept the pedal pressed, burning the van out the smashed exit, blowing off the lot.