"Stop him!"
Scorpion roared, stomped the accelerator, and the pickup shot out of the underground garage with a howl.
It should've been an impressive sight—but compared to the Batmobile at the far end of the street, whose thunderous rumble rolled like distant thunder, it was a baby at Tyson's feet. No contest.
"What is that thing? NYPD's newest rig? Or the vampire's ride everyone keeps whispering about?"
Watching the Batmobile bear down on him, Mac Gargan felt his scalp prickle, mind flashing to the recent vampire rumors.
At least Hell's Kitchen streets were thick with Kingpin's crews tonight. They were already driving to block cops and extract Walker.
Even though the pursuer wasn't a squad car, the goons swung their vehicles sideways and walled off the road between the Batmobile and Scorpion's pickup.
"Unless you can fly, there's no way you're getting past this."
Scorpion exhaled, cranked the wheel, and took the pickup the opposite direction from the Batmobile.
In the mirror, the Batmobile shrank into the distance, apparently trapped—only its crimson headlights glowed, like a vampire's bloodthirsty eyes fixed on prey.
Just as Scorpion decided it was blocked for good, those red eyes suddenly leapt—straight up.
"…Am I seeing things? Why did it fly?"
He leaned out the window, frowning—and saw the impossible.
Two steel tethers fired from the Batmobile's nose, biting deep into the midlevels of the buildings on either side. The car jumped.
With its own suspension launch and the cables hauling, several tons of Batmobile vaulted high into the air.
The lines snapped back, and the car surged forward midair…
Then another grapnel shot from the airborne Batmobile at a downward angle, bit into the pavement, and reeled in with brutal speed—yanking the car into a diving glide over the street.
In the blink of an eye it skimmed the rooftops of the cars blocking the road, engine booming as it cleared them. The crimson lights flared again, screaming up behind Scorpion's pickup.
"What the hell is that?!"
The car he thought he'd lost reappeared. Scorpion's brain stalled. He'd sooner believe it was a plane than a car.
"No—think. I can't outrun it. I need to shake it."
He glanced at Walker dumped in the back seat. For a heartbeat he considered tossing Walker out to save himself.
He didn't. He buried the pedal instead, hammering south through Hell's Kitchen toward W. 40th Street.
The grid gave him no room to juke. The pickup was nowhere near as fast. From that jump alone, he knew street blocks could stop cops—but not the Batmobile.
Only the multi-level tangle near W. 40th offered a chance. With the ramps and overpasses, maybe he could lose it.
…
Overpass near W. 40th Street
"Converge on W. 40th. Crimson headlights—big bat on the nose—on my tail! Shoot the tires!"
He barked into the radio, then plowed on, clipping mirror after mirror. Alarms wailed up and down the block.
Inside the Batmobile, Scorpion's voice came crystal clear over the intercept. Batman's face didn't change; he pressed the throttle.
Vroom—vroom!
As Scorpion gave orders, trucks, sedans, and vans streamed toward W. 40th. Clack! rounds were chambered in car after car.
Screeech!
A hard brake, a wrench of the wheel, and Scorpion vaulted the pickup up onto the overpass.
Behind him a panel van slewed crosswise—driver botched it and tipped the whole thing, blocking the ramp mouth.
Beyond it, more cars slanted and stacked, sealing fifty-plus meters of roadway.
"Let's see you fly now."
He blew out a breath and slapped the battered Walker on the shoulder. "Hang on. I've lost him."
"Hmph."
Walker sagged. Daredevil had pounded him a hundred times trying to pry out Kingpin's location. He ached everywhere.
His mouth stayed shut.
Vroom!
Laughing, Scorpion lined up to drop off the overpass for the W. 39th Street tunnel.
If he hit the tunnel, he'd be free of the Batmobile for good.
He checked the mirror—no sign of it.
"Something's… off."
White-knuckled on the wheel, he felt like he'd missed a step. Ever since he'd ordered the convoy to W. 40th, the Batmobile had vanished.
With the roar and the way it bulldozed cars, he didn't believe it was just loud and slow. He'd overlooked something.
As he barreled toward the W. 39th tunnel, still trying to place it—
Ding!
Ten meters up on the overpass, he watched a giant grapnel rise from the roadside below, the steel line taut behind it.
Creeeak, creeeak—
The cable's reeling whine was unmistakable. And then, like a nightmare, that nose—fang-like splitter and massive bat crest—rose smoothly over the parapet into his lane.
The red eyes didn't stare straight at him—but he felt pinned all the same.
"Run!"
Scorpion was still frozen when Walker slammed a fist into the horn and shouted.
Beep!
The honk jolted him. He wrenched the wheel, stomped the gas, and tried to serpentine past the Batmobile.
In the car behind, Batman killed the radio intercept and hit another switch.
WHUMP!
From the Batmobile's tail, thrusters—harvested from the Goblin and Spider-Slayer gliders—erupted. The whole car lunged, locking onto the pickup's bumper like a predator.
"Barbara, take the wheel."
Batman's hands left the steering wheel. He thumbed another control.
The roof slid back; the seat's EM catapult fired. A black shape arced into the air and slammed onto the pickup's roof with bone-jarring force.
~~~
Patreon(.)com/Bleam
— Currently You can Read 50 Chapters Ahead of Others!