Concrete Chaos

by Earle, Michael-Scott

"You are making a mistake," the Asian Heartthrob said.

  "You made a mistake by agreeing to meet us." The suited goon on the left reached his hand into his coat.

  Then all hell broke loose.

  Lover Boy dove shoulder first into Mr. Goon Assface before he could pull whatever weapon he had in his pocket. Goon fell back into the somewhat-open door of the restaurant. Then Jerkface on the right fired off a punch at my man, but he was too slow, and the beautiful Asian parried the strike and put an elbow into the asshole's face. His nose shattered, and he bounced off the side of the doorway.

  The valets screamed.

  I turned to face them, and I almost screamed along with them. Giant Russian Motherfucker had pulled a goddamn machete out of his suit pocket and had cleaved the fucking head off one of the men in the street. Blood was spraying everywhere, and the other four suited men had pulled out guns and knives from their own jackets. As I watched, one of them pointed a sleek black pistol at the Polar Bear, only to have the hand cut off with a violent swing of the machete.

  Then I saw another black van skid to a halt on the street.

  I jumped towards Funakoshi and slammed my pink and black kitty cat helmet over my head. One asshole was dead already, and if I knew anything from watching movies, it was that bystanders get shot. My iron horse fired up as soon as my hands grabbed the bars, and the engine roared to life like an angry dragon. The helmet cameras came on, and I saw four more assholes get out of the van that had just stopped behind me.

  "Hey you!" I screamed at Way Too Hot Not To Be a Figment of My Imagination. He'd aimed a well-placed side kick at the goon on his left, and the man had bounced back through the doors before he could pull his gun. The Asian man turned around to see me, and I felt my heart match the RPMs of my engine.

  "Get the fuck on!" I pointed to the back of my saddle with my thumb right before I twisted the throttle, grabbed the front brake, and leaned my body waaaaaay too far forward. Funakoshi obeyed my practiced movement, and the tires screeched with smoke. I spun around in a perfect one hundred and eighty degree turn to position the back part of the motorcycle to face the man who I really wanted to give me a mind-shattering orgasm.

  He kneed the second goon in the face one last time, looked over to his Russian friend, back to me, back to his friend, and then he sprinted the fifteen yards toward me. I felt his chest hit my back and his arms wrap around my stomach. The sensation would have probably given me an orgasm had there not been a whole bunch of killing, punching, and screaming all around us.

  "Hold tight!" I screamed, and then I commanded Funakoshi to fucking go with a twist of my right hand.

  The back tire struggled to find purchase for a half a second, and then something caught. We instantly sprung twenty feet out of the parking slot onto the street, and I had to lean a hard right to aim the beast away from the second black van.

  "Fuck!" A bunch of goons tried to jump in front of Funakoshi and prevent us from escaping. I was feeling the G's through my ass though, and I'd already reached fuck-you velocity. I smashed into them like a thirty-pound bowling ball into toothpicks. There were screams, sounds of bones crunching, more screams, and then wet, punching noises. I somehow managed to miss the big Russian butcher in my bullet-like trajectory, and I shouted with joy when we cleared the mob of fighting men. I heard gunshots behind us, but I was either faster than the bullets or they had bad aim.

  "The police have been alerted to the violence at the restaurant. They are dispatching squad cars and drones," Hogan informed me.

  "That's to be expected."

  "It looks like one of the vans previously parked in front of the restaurant is attempting to follow us."

  "Ha," I snickered and then slammed opened the throttle. I was already going ninety and had run three red lights to get us more distance from the fight. There was no way a van could catch us.

  Then I saw the cars.

  They were black, low, and had bright headlights that made me think it might be the cops. There were three of them moving in behind me and weaving in and out of the light pod traffic with the aggression of a pack of hornets.

  "Friends of yours?" I asked Dr. Dreamy, but he couldn't hear me over the sound of the wind and through my helmet. It would be difficult to turn with the extra weight on the back of Funakoshi, but it wasn't like I was being followed by motorcycles. These were just cars, and even the fastest hydrogen or electric models couldn't keep up with a motorcycle.

  I flexed the right side of my torso against the man's arm and then leaned that direction a second afterward. He didn't seem to get my cue, and he stayed upright while I tried to push into the upcoming turn. Fortunately, the gyro system I'd added onto Funakoshi realized my intent, and the computer kicked in the bike adaptation. The turn was a little easier than a ninety degree one, and I managed to hit the throttle on the exit and punch us up to one hundred and twenty before I even needed to merge. The lights of the city were practically long laser lines of colors that stretched to our sides like we were going light speed.

  "Sue Zay, I need to remind you that-"

  "There are people with guns and knives back there! Don't fucking tell me I am riding too fast, asshole!" I yelled at Hogan. He must have gotten a clue because he didn't reply. I did, however, notice his image frown on the screen of my helmet.

  Sexy Asian Play Thing squeezed me tighter during the turn, and I felt butterflies fly down from my stomach and try to tickle my clit. It was just too bad that we weren't naked, on a bed somewhere, with a lot of time on our hands.

  A car pulled out in front of me.

  It was a sudden movement. Someone was either driving a pod manually or the sensors hadn't picked up my quickness. I gritted my teeth, slammed on both brakes, and prayed that Funakoshi's wheels would catch on the street and slow me down enough to lean.

  The wheels broke free of the street. He had too much speed and too much power. Asian Male Model squeezed my stomach, and I took a precious quarter second to contemplate my options.

  Then I figured out the best choice and decided it would probably not kill us.

  I wiggled my ass into his crotch and pushed hard into the direction we were sliding. I was in fourth gear already, so I feathered the clutch out and shifted down a gear while I twisted the throttle closed. Funakoshi's massive tires painted rubber onto the asphalt for ten feet while the back end slid out more. Then the wheels suddenly caught, the suspension rebounded, and we flipped around the front of the pod like a tightened trebuchet would launch a fucking boulder. Funakoshi had to lean so fucking far over that my right knee almost felt like I was propping the bike up against the sliding asphalt beneath us. The knee guards were made for sliding, so I wasn't that concerned with my position, but my gorgeous passenger didn't have a helmet or leathers. If I laid Funakoshi out going this fast, then the guy might not have his beautiful face anymore.

  Then we cleared the pod.

  But the cars behind me didn't. I saw one collide with the pod and buck like an angry bronco into the car on its wing. White accident foam exploded out of the vehicles like they were popped zits. But even with the safety foam, I still saw a fire start to glow inside the second pursuing racer.

  "One more left," I said.

  "The police have been notified of the recent accident. They are sending squad cars and drones to survey the damage," the Aussie voice informed me.

  "I'll be gone by then," I huffed at Hogan.

  "The gunshots have raised the Santa Clara Sheriff's alert status to Red. They are dispatching all available drone, motor, and squad units in pursuit of a dark colored motorbike carrying two passengers."

  "You're fucking kidding me?"

  "I wish I was, Sue Zay."

  "Will they follow me back into San Jose?" I didn't know that much about police and sheriff protocol, but I'd experienced losing drones and police cars on my tail by just hitting the afterburners and jetting a few zip codes over. It seemed to work with everyone but Chippers. I imagined those fuckers would follow me all the
way to Oregon, maybe even Canada if I pissed them off enough.

  "It is possible. The Sheriff's Department is active in the entire county."

  "I don't see the car behind me. Do you?"

  "It is half a mile behind you." Hogan's crocodile-tooth hat nodded on my screen towards my rear.

  "Alright, I'm going to try to motherfucking stealth this shit."

  "That doesn't seem like your usual procedure."

  "I'm full of piss and gasoline tonight. Up ahead looks good."

  There was a narrow alley about a hundred yards ahead, and I slowed Funakoshi to an agonizingly slow fifty miles an hour a dozen feet from the mouth of the space. Then I choked the front brakes and leaned forward on the bike. Handsome McLoverBoyFace was a bit of extra weight, but I was going fast enough that the back end of my bike shot up into an easy endo. I let off the brake, turned the front wheel slightly while we unicycled on it, angled my rear end to the front of the alley, and then feathered the brakes again to bring the rear back down onto the asphalt while my left hand squeezed the clutch. Funakoshi rolled backward fifteen feet into the dark alley. Then I killed his engines and lights with a flick of my finger.

  Prince Charming was still squeezing the life out of my abdominals, and I popped open my helmet glass before I turned to him.

  "Let up a little on the hug, Lover Boy." They were bold words, and I felt my cheeks get red under my helmet. I doubted he could see past my visor, though.

  "Oh, sorry." He relaxed his hug around my midsection, but thankfully he didn't let go.

  "Shhhhhhhuuu." I held a finger up over the grill of the helmet and then gestured back to the street. The alleyway was unlit, dark, and full of the debris of many. As soon as I shushed him, there were no sounds of anyone living, just a light ping or two of Funakoshi's cooling engine.

  The black car screamed by on the main street. Must have been going eighty, and they didn't have time to look into our tight, dark alley.

  "Looks like we lost them." I smiled at the inhumanly handsome man.

  "Yes. Thank you so much. I need-" His watch lit up with a blue glow, and we both looked at it. There was an image of the ugly Russian man on the display.

  "I've lost them, Boss." His voice sounded ragged and angry. "But police are combing area. I will be picked up shortly."

  "I can go get him," the words left my mouth, and I almost gasped. What the fuck am I talking about? Rescuing Dreamboat is one thing that might be worth it, but those fuckers had guns, and the police would just fucking love to get their stinky, pink piggy fingers on me. Not to even mention that I saw Russian Beefcake just fucking behead someone with a machete not even two minutes ago.

  "No, you have done enough for us. Pavel, I'm going to call Emma to pick you up."

  "She is too far away, Boss. Have Girl With Motorcycle come get me." The Russian accent was coming on thick, and I almost couldn't understand the words.

  "Send your coordinates to #HOGAN3_SZ" I leaned over the Asian man's side and pointed my face at the screen of his phones. Wait. I fucking did it again. What the hell is my problem? This guy wasn't that fucking good looking.

  Except that he fucking was. By Smith's twenty-seven wives, the guy was the hottest piece of ass I'd ever seen.

  "I've received Pavel's location, Sue Zay," Hogan's Australian-tinted words said in my helmet.

  "You'll have to get off," I told the sexy man.

  "You really don't need to do this. You've helped us beyond what I could expect anyone to do." His eyes stared into the visor of my helmet, but he must not have been able to see in the darkness there, since our eyes didn't make contact.

  "It's okay." Ugh. I sounded so fucking dumb. I should have had something heroic, or sexy, or witty to tell him. Something that would have made his dick hard and his tongue hungry for my pussy.

  "Be careful. The men we encountered are trying to kill us. They will kill you if they think you are in their way." He scooted off the rear of Funakoshi and swung his legs onto the pavement of the alleyway.

  "I'm used to danger, Handsome." There we go. Now I was sounding like a motherfucking badass bitch. I couldn't hear his reply over the start of Funakoshi's massive engine kicking to life, and I peeled out of the alleyway without looking back at him.

  Of course, I still saw him in my rear display. I imagined that I looked pretty fucking sexy straddling my big black, purple, and pink motorcycle when I shot into the street. If he weren't gay, he would have a hard on. I would have.

  "We are three minutes away from Pavel," Hogan informed me. "He is requesting face video. Should I bring it on your helmet screen?"

  "Yeah."

  I saw a shaking image of a sideways street and heard labored breathing.

  "Are you okay?" I hesitated to ask. There was a wall of self-driving pods in my way, and I hopped Funakoshi onto the center divider so I could scream past them. Then I jumped back to the left lane.

  "Four chase me. It would not be deal, but I have injury."

  "What kind of injury?" I probably shouldn't have asked.

  "Nothing to worry about, Girl With Motorcycle." I still couldn't see the big Russian's face, but it seemed as if the shaking was getting worse, like the man was running faster.

  "Squad cars approaching from oncoming traffic ahead." Hogan raised a hand and tipped his hat.

  I yanked on my brakes with enough force to stop, but not skid, and then steered Funakoshi into the rear, right section of a nest of self-driving pods. Within fifteen seconds, four Santa Clara Sheriff squad cars blew past me. Once I saw their lights fade into the haze of my rear display, I twisted the throttle again with a snicker of contempt and shot out from behind the pods.

  The clock on my display said it was ten thirty PM, but it was a Friday night, and the traffic was only starting to dwindle. I'd lost some time with the hide tactic, and I tried to make it up by hitting one hundred and twenty on the short stretches between packs of pods and acute turns.

  "Make a left on the next street," Hogan informed me.

  "You know I can see the map on Funakoshi?"

  "You had not slowed your speed, so I thought it best to remind you." Hogan puffed, and I could have sworn that the fucker rolled his eyes. I did not program him to be snarky with me.

  I hit the turn at full speed and leaned Funakoshi in hard enough to push my brain into my vagina. But my faithful steed held the road, and we cut through the intersection like a streak of black and pink lightning. There was a dip on the exit of the turn, and I even managed to get a few feet of air when I set the bike back in a straight line.

  "Next right," Hogan said, and I grunted before I turned.

  "Second left," he instructed again, and I tried not to scream at the AI. He was just trying to be helpful, not annoy me.

  "I have been cornered, Girl With Motorcycle. It not safe for you to approach me." Pavel said over my helmet. I paid attention to the display coming from his phone and saw a weird upside-down angle of two of the goons from the restaurant.

  I also noticed a tiny dot of light in the background of the video feed. It was my headlights, and I focused my sight back on the road ahead. The giant Russian was easy to spot, and I also saw the four men that had surrounded him. Pavel stood on the side of the street on a curb, and he held his arms up in a surrender gesture. All of the thugs were standing on the street, and they turned their heads in the direction of the motorcycle's oncoming roar.

  Then they pointed their handguns at me.

  "Ohhhh shit!" I screamed, leaned back on the saddle, and pushed Funakoshi's engine hard. The front end lifted, and I dropped my feet off the pegs and onto the rear lip of the saddle. His underside was armored with various plates and bars to keep the expensive stuff safe when I was stunting, but I didn't know if the same armor would do anything against bullets. At least it would be some protection.

  The four men fired at me, and I felt a few bullets hit Funakoshi's undercarriage. The tires were run-flats, but that didn't mean they could take a bullet. If the rubber got pun
ctured and too heavily damaged, then the whole thing would come apart when I set the wheelie down.

  Here I was with four fuckers shooting guns at me, and I was worrying about getting a wheelie landed with proper ascetics.

  It just might be that I have my life choices all wrong.

  More bullets pelted the bottom of my motorcycle, and I poked part of my helmet out from behind Funakoshi's frame to see how close the fuckers were. I was about fifty yards away, and while this distance would probably make their aim a lot better, it also meant that they were close to being crushed underneath the bulk of a speeding super bike.

  Then I slammed into them.

  There was a storm of screams, bones crunching, and wet sucking sounds that I didn't care to identify. My front wheel crashed down, and I skidded to a halt about eighty feet from the group. I shouldn't have stopped, because the men could have easily gotten a shot off at my exposed back, but my rear display showed me a surprising image.

  Pavel had killed all of them. The giant man was standing in the street with a large knife in each hand. His arms were covered in dark blood up to his elbows, and his face was contorted like a feral animal's.

  I should probably just go. Yeah. There was no way I wanted Mr. Russian the Butcher riding on the back of my-

  "Good job, Girl With Motorcycle. Take me to Boss please." The giant, murdering fucker was somehow already sitting on the back of Funakoshi, and he had his massive, blood-soaked hands wrapped around my tiny waist. I hadn't even seen the guy move. He was either as quick as a hummingbird or I'd somehow not paid attention while he casually put his blades away and got on my bike.

  I liked to believe I was pretty damn good at paying attention.

  "Is something wrong with motorcycle? Did take damage from bullets?"

  "No, I think we are good. Hogan?"

  "None of Funakoshi's systems appear damaged." I revved the engine, and then we tore out of the street and back towards the handsome man who I'd just risked my life to save.

  Chapter 5

  "And you didn't get his name? What the fuck is wrong with you?" Kate Tee interrupted my story. She actually seemed angry.