I was cruising down the street, enjoying sliding between the cars and avoiding traffic. The angry looks of those poor wage slaves stuck in their plastic and steel coffins only made the ride that much more sweet. After that scare a few weeks ago, I had moved apartments to a new place, a little more secure, and a little closer to downtown.
Just like before, I hadn't noticed my tail soon enough to do anything about it. This time they had been a little smarter, bringing a couple of tails on motorcycles as well as a chase van. I would bet newyen to dollars they had the entire thing set up- these people really wanted me. They might even have a satellite uplink or some drek like that, to track my movements on the street. With a grin under my helmet that they couldn't see through the darkened faceplate, I darted between two cars that were sitting too close together for comfort.
I cut off some poor slob in an americar waiting for a right turn, taking his space in traffic as he stomped the brakes to avoid running me over. The two motorcycles followed me, one pushing up onto the curb to avoid the car, the second waiting and following behind him once the car had moved. I moved up next to a semi trailer, watching the bike behind me in the mirror. It was probably a mistake, but this turn wasn't part of my usual route, so maybe they hadn't been expecting it. The corporate van following certainly wasn't going to be able to follow me in this mess. Oh, thank the saints for downtown traffic any time of day.
The second bike finally got out from behind the americar, and the first bike was catching up, so I pushed forward to be just in front of the semis' bumper. I toyed with the idea of cutting it off and causing the driver to lock up his brakes, but at this speed it wouldn't be much of an accident. It certainly wouldn't stop these clowns from following me. With a smile, I noticed the stairs rising to the train. I had improved shocks on my bike, but I wasn't sure how prepared the chasers were. Gunning it and cutting in front of the Weber bread van, I hit the throttle just enough to life my front tire off the ground, ascending the stairs in a way that made me remember the paint shaker my dad had in the garage when I was a kid. Unable to do anything but keep the throttle up and hang on, I lost track of the bikes behind me. About two thirds of the way up the stairs I heard a satisfying crash that told me at least one of the bikes had tried to pursue me- tried and failed.
Of course, now I had the problem of transit cops getting on my ass, so I needed to move and get out of their faces pretty quickly- if they couldn't ID my bike, that much better. Reaching the top of the stairs, I got my back tire onto the level and put my foot down. I would need to be balanced for this next part. I gunned the throttle to lift my tire as high as I felt comfortable, did a burnout with my back tire so that I could muscle the bike around with my planted foot. The result was twofold- people on the platform got away from me, making life more difficult for the cop, and I was now facing back the way I came, ready to go down the stairs. As I dropped my front tire back down toward the steps, I noticed that both bikes had followed me up- apparently the second rider had wiped out at the bottom of the steps. The first one was about halfway up, trying to hang onto his bike.
Descending, I had a little more control than I had going up the stairs, so I pushed into the chaser as I went past him. I didn't know if my nudge would be enough to tip him over or even mess with him, but I wanted to at least attempt to screw him up as he followed me. With any luck, the cop at the top of the stairs would shoot this fool instead of me.
I revved the motor as I descended the stairs, using my gyro stabilization to keep the bike on the straight and narrow and to avoid wiping out. The bike and rider at the bottom of the steps were a mess, the front forks bent and the tire flat where he had misjudged his angle of ascent. Not feeling much pity for the corp stooge, I popped the clutch as I ran over his arm. Without too much fanfare, I had lost both tails and was back into traffic- even if that first bike managed to follow me, I had a significant lead.
I decided to extend the tail, and see if they had anyone still following me. I swung back out onto the 5, headed toward my old doss. As far as I know, it was being used by runners as a not-so-safe safehouse, but I wanted a long route where I knew the area. For ten minutes I didn't see anything resembling a tail, and then, just as I was coming into the neighborhood where my old place was, I spotted that corporate van. It was a generic company name, but the logo on the side was written in Mitsuhama lettering. That didn't mean anything. They could have stolen the van, or even just painted it themselves.
I thought about it as I breezed through the nearly red light- there are reasons that you never send a van to chase a bike- they're just not maneuverable enough, for one. And even if you have a rigger willing to spend the money and time to hitch his VCR to the crappy generic wheels, they just don't fit well into spaces that are the bread and butter (or meat and potatoes) of a motorcycle pursuit.
This van didn't seem to care- either they were desperate to get me, or just mad that I had trashed two of thier pursuit bikes... or even two of their friends, but they chased me into the intersection, almost crashing into two cars that spun out in the intersection as they chased me. Apparently they didn't care if I knew they were following. That's not good. If someone is following and you're not supposed to know they're there, you can lose them a lot easier than a determined pursuer. A determined pursuer is someone who got their hoop chewed out because they didn't catch you- or worse, got caught following you. Then it's their hoop or yours on the line, and they'll do whatever it has to take to bring you in.
I slid between two cars doing the speed limit, to give me time to think. I realized it was a mistake as the van careened into one of the cars, spinning it out of the way and into cross traffic, where a sedan smashed into the side of it. They had almost smashed me between the two cars, which meant they were really determined, so I sped up. Most cars can go faster than motorcycles, especially over long distances, but in the short distances a motorcycle can beat a car every time. I pulled ahead easily, sliding between two stopped cars at the light and praying that it turned in time for me to zip through the intersection without completely stopping.
I felt, rather than heard, the cars crunching behind me. Like a punch in the back of your throat combined with nails on a chalkboard, I heard the metal-on-metal grinding sound, that van still trying to get me. I had picked two larger cars to hide between this time, but the van had the speed and the right angle to actually get at me. I spun the throttle all the way open half a second too late, and as my back tire grabbed purchase, the wreck of the van slammed into the back of me.
The bike was forced forward, lifting me with it and pushing out into traffic. Time almost seemed to slow down as I was pushed into the intersection, and although it seemed to be moving slower, I couldn't move my head fast enough to see what vehicles were headed toward me. The van catching me was a secondary concern now- being pushed out into traffic with no more than leather and kevlar to protect me was enough to push survival to the front of my mind.
The two cars I had been hiding between were being pushed out too, but the one on my left, the one I was hoping would hit anything headed toward me, hadn't been pushed out far enough to block my path. My bike fell over in slow-motion, back wheel turning even as the front wheel slid along the rim, finding no grip. The bike hit its side at the same time I landed on top of it. I felt a flash of pain in my leg, which I guess meant it was still under the bike. At least I wouldn't have to worry about a highside fall, I thought to myself, as I watched traffic approach. The car in front of me swerved, smashed into the car next to it and kept right on coming.
I went into the blackness.
