The city of Capaldi lay in uneasy quiet, its streets slick with rain, neon lights shimmering on wet asphalt. February's wind cut through the avenues like knives, carrying the scent of ozone and faint smoke. Dylan Al'Xander roared through the shadows on his motorcycle, a dark streak against the slick city streets. Every heartbeat pounded in his chest like a drum; every sense was painfully heightened. He could feel the slick asphalt beneath his tires, hear distant engines, smell the faint metallic tang of the city, and taste the tension thick in the night air.
The six Mud Feet had been spirited away from government trucks under official guise, disappearing before Dylan's relentless tracking could intercept them. Someone in Capaldi's administration wanted to stop him, and they had made their intentions brutally clear.
Stanley's office navigation system, temporarily installed by Gibbs, guided him flawlessly… until it didn't.
