Jack's stomach sank as Gregory floored the gas pedal, laughter echoing over the engine's roar. He was regretting this reckless adventure.
Thirty minutes ago.
Jack jogged far from his apartment, his breath steady, a thin mist curling from his lips. Even after thirty minutes, his movements stayed smooth and effortless, his Jogging Mastery skill turning the run into a calming rhythm.
"This C-grade Jogging Mastery skill is still as amazing as I remember." Jack thought to himself.
"Maybe I should join a marathon when I have some free time?" Jack thought to himself before chuckling.
He knew well enough that even with his Jogging Mastery skill, he wasn't the type to torture himself for fun. Joining a marathon for the hell of it was not for him.
"But this skill is good for outrunning monsters, though."
Jack suddenly heard a distinct rumbling in the distance as he enjoyed his night jog. It sounded as if a monster from hell was awakening and rushing towards him.
Jack slowly stopped and looked ahead of him as he scrunched his eyebrows. Before long, he saw a large vehicle rushing down the road.
Before Jack could determine what the large brown truck was up to, it started slowing down until it came to a complete stop beside him.
"This looks a lot like…" Jack muttered in surprise.
Before he could complete his sentence, the truck window slid down as Gregory's upper half leaned out with a wide, friendly smile.
"Look what we have here. It's Hester, right? What ya doing out in the middle of the night?" Gregory asked with curiosity.
"So it's you, Gregory," Jack said with realization before answering the question.
"Just clearing my head. What about you? Don't tell me you're still collecting donations at this hour."
Gregory shook his head, "Nope, I'm heading to a bar to hang out with some buddies of mine."
"Speaking of which, if you have nothing else to do, you want to come along?" Gregory invited with a charming smile.
Jack scrunched his eyebrows and thought about it before slowly asking.
"Are you sure? I don't want to be a buzzkill, but I don't drink."
"Great! You're the designated driver, then. Hop in!" Gregory burst out laughing as he motioned Jack to get in.
Jack shrugged his shoulders. Since he had nothing better to do, he might as well go. Who knows, he might learn something. Or get a new investor.
After deciding, Jack walked to the other side of the truck and hopped in. The comfy leather seat sunk slightly to better accommodate him.
"So soft," Jack said with surprise.
"I spent some money to get the seats remodeled. Since my ma and pa usually stay inside the car, I wanted to make it more comfortable." Gregory said casually.
After Jack settled in, Gregory stepped on the gas. A deep roar came from within the engine as if it were a beast waking up from its slumber. A shiver went down Jack's spine. He was pressed into the seat as the car rapidly accelerated.
"Damn, what's the rush?" Jack complained as he quickly put on his seat belt.
Jack's face twitched as he regretted his decision to go on this little adventure. It seemed he had made a mistake thinking that Gregory was a better driver than his blind mother.
"If we don't hurry, all the one-dollar beers will be gone by the time we get there. The beers are very expensive in the bar we are going to, so we have to hurry." Gregory explained with a leisurely smile.
He stuck his arm out the window while his other hand controlled the wheel. He looked completely relaxed.
Jack's eyes twitched as he palmed his face.
"Forget it. If we crash, you're paying for my hospital bill." Jack said with a sigh and tried to relax.
"That's the spirit!" Gregory chuckled before realization flashed across his face.
"Wait, do you know how to drive?" Gregory asked.
"Obviously," Jack rolled his eyes.
"Wait, I don't have a driver's license since Hester never learned to drive." Jack suddenly realized and felt a bit awkward.
He had forgotten that he had only gotten his driver's license after graduating from college back in his previous life.
Hester never learned how to drive.
Even if he planned to after graduating high school, he died before he could ever try.
"But I never got my driver's license." Jack clarified.
Gregory shrugged. "Good enough. Licenses are just suggestions these days."
Seeing Jack's curious look, he added, "Mandatory military service teaches everyone to drive. Cops only care if you're driving like a lunatic."
Jack nodded his understanding. It made perfect sense. The military needed drivers, and if they were going to train most of the population for six months to learn how to drive, the military vehicles needed to be included.
"That's convenient." Jack thought to himself. He breathed a sigh of relief since he was confident in his driving ability.
Even though he hadn't driven in two years, he was sure it would return to him quickly.
"Do you mind if I turn on the radio?" Jack asked.
"Go ahead,"
Jack didn't hesitate and turned on the radio. He flipped through a few stations before he found a song he liked just starting to play.
Highway to Hell by AC/DC
"Have you ever heard of this classic?" Jack asked as he leaned back.
"Do I look like I grew up on a rock? Of course, I heard this." Gregory said as he rolled his eyes.
As the song gradually picked up, Gregory and Jack felt their hearts racing, and their blood began to boil with adrenaline.
Before long, both sang at the top of their lungs as they sped past traffic light after traffic light.
"I'm on the highway to hell!"
"Highway to hell!" Jack and Gregory sang with vigor.
Jack smiled as he felt all the anxiety in his body melting away. He even started to feel inspired and wanted to write down his inspiration before he forgot about it.
He was reminded of his college days when he and his friends would drive all over the city just having fun, singing at the top of their lungs as they didn't care about losing their hearing.
"It reminds me of the good old days." Jack thought to himself.
After passing through their second red light, they swapped songs and held each other's shoulders as they sang a duet.
As they passed the third red light, Gregory noticed something and adjusted his rearview mirror. Behind them, a police car drove out of the alleyway and turned on its lights. It picked up speed as it chased them down.
Noticing the infamous red and blue lights, Jack turned around and saw the police car trailing them. His face darkened as he turned to Gregory, who only smiled and pressed his foot harder on the gas.
At this point, they were going eighty miles per hour and were zooming.
Gregory's plan was clearly to outrun the police.
"What have I gotten myself into?" Jack's lips twitched in disbelief.
Before Jack could advise Gregory to slow down, Gregory twisted the wheel, taking a sharp turn that nearly tipped the truck over. The two wheels that clung to the ground as if they were clinging to life barely got them around the corner.
As the truck fell back to all four of its wheels, Gregory's eyes flashed as a broad, crazy grin appeared on his face.
"Hahaha! We've been blessed!" Gregory said with laughter as he pressed on the gas with his foot weight.
The truck's speedometer rapidly crossed into the red as the truck reached nearly one hundred and thirty miles per hour. The engine was roaring as if it were a prehistoric beast.
"Gregory, slow down! There is a kid on the road!" Jack's pupils shrunk as his heart dropped.
Across from them was a short, fat shadow waddling onto the road. From the height of the shadow, it was a fat kid around ten years old.
They would collide if they didn't immediately slow down and turn the wheel to avoid the kid. It wasn't difficult to imagine what would happen to a kid who weighed less than two hundred pounds getting slammed by a multi-ton truck.
"Look again, it's a Fatty Ground Dove! We have to kill it!" Gregory growled as his eyes stayed locked onto the shadow.
Ahead of them, the shadow of a waddling bird emerged under the dim streetlights. Jack's heart skipped a beat. At first glance, it looked like a child—but as they closed the distance, the grotesque form of a bloated dove appeared. Its oily feathers shone under the headlights, and Gregory's grin widened.
Seeing the creature, Jack's brain pulled out a string of information, letting him understand what Gregory was saying.
Columba livia obesa, most commonly known as Fatty Ground Doves, is one of the common mutations of pigeons. So common they have already become their own species.
Fatty Ground Doves, although it might look like it would take a miracle for them to fly, in reality, they could fly just like regular birds, although they are very slow and clumsy. They are generally harmless and cowardly creatures.
Threat level: Kill on Sight
"Fatty Ground Doves carry a lot of diseases and viruses, so we have to kill them and burn their bodies and blood with fire," Gregory said, thinking that Jack might not know what he was implying.
Jack snapped out of his daze as he realized that Gregory was planning on using this Fatty Ground Dove as a way to escape. By killing the bird with the truck, not only would they help protect the City, but it would force the police car to stop and deal with the body.
Killing two birds with one stone. Or, more accurately, killing two Fatty Ground Doves with one truck.
"This guy has a screw loose, but at least it's a good plan." Jack thought to himself after calming himself slightly at the realization.
Just as he was about to support Gregory's plan, he noticed that Gregory's window was still wide open. The Fatty Ground Dove's blood and other diseased leaden body parts would get inside if it remained open.
Infecting them both!
"Damn, pull up your window!" Jack screamed, reminding Gregory.
Gregory suddenly realized and slid his window up just in time before the collision. The Fatty Ground Dove shrieked as its feathers puffed up in an attempt of intimidation to scare the truck away.
Unfortunately, just a split second later, the truck slammed into the Fatty Ground Dove, sending it flying as its blood painted the hood. Its fat body left a massive dent in the truck.
Jack's heart jolted as the truck shook for a second. The loud bang from the Fatty Ground Dove hitting the truck drowned out the sound of the roaring engine. After recovering, Jack turned around to look behind them.
They did not stop for a second and continued to pull a distance away from the crime scene.
Leaving behind the dead Fatty Ground Dove and a police car that stopped right in front of the corpse.
"Damn! Why do I have to deal with this so late!?"
Stepping out of the police car was a tall, muscular man with tan skin covered in tattoos. He took off his sunglasses as he complained about his extra work.
Even though the police officer wanted to slack off and leave the bird's corpse, he knew he couldn't. His police badge was recording everything, and his every move was captured with cameras on the traffic lights.
If he failed to follow his duties, he would be heavily punished. In any case, doing his job also had benefits, so finding motivation wasn't hard.
The police officer walked over to the back of his police car and popped open the trunk.
After a few minutes, he was suited up in a full-body hazmat suit. A flamethrower in his two thick arms as he walked over to the tangled and bloody corpse of the Fatty Ground Dove.
He pulled the trigger, and a jet of red fire engulfed the corpse, reducing it to ash.
The smell of burnt chicken filled the air, but the police officer could barely tell after breathing in the heavily filtered air that came through his hazmat suit.
After watching that nothing crawled out of the corpse, the police officer went to every blood stain, every feather, and anything that could lead to disease outbreaks and burned it with fire.
Once everything turned to ash, the police officer walked back to his trunk and pulled out a portable vacuum and sucked up the ash, making sure that he collected every last bit.
He pulled the bag at the back of the vacuum and labeled it Fatty Ground Dove #3 before taking off his protective suit. He was covered in sweat due to the heat and sighed with relief.
"I should get a good bonus for dealing with so many today." The officer muttered as he smiled as he looked at the bag.
Feeling that his hard work was worth it.
He turned back to look in the direction that Gregory and Jack rode off to and shook his head in helplessness.
"That was enough fun. I'll send them a speeding ticket through the mail."
A gloating grin appeared across the police officer's helpless face as he jumped into his police car and entered the license plate number into a machine.
His face froze before he cursed under his breath. It was a fake license plate.
The officer glared at his dashboard, muttering a curse. "Of course, it's a fake plate."