With the engine's high-pitched roar, flames even shot out from the oversized motorcycle's tailpipe. It zipped agilely past the Guard Team's shotgun fire, skimming close to the tires and thrusting its Long Spear forward.
The sound of bursting tires grew louder, and Raymond's face turned even uglier.
Fortunately, the truck had enough tires to endure being punctured a dozen more times or so.
But the problem was, the enemy didn't need to puncture them all.
If their speed slowed for even a moment, they would surely be relentlessly pursued by the Eye of Nightmare. If they were to stall here, they could forget about reaching the underground Control Center—they might as well hand it over on a silver platter.
He was all too familiar with this tactic.
Once the scouting teams searching the perimeter detected the enemy's presence, they would engage and not let go, call for reinforcements, and then a dozen or so teams would start to encircle...
