They were no longer on the country lane but stuck on the highway, boxed in by cars and taillights. The van crawled forward in a long, maddening line; Mustang gripped the wheel with a temper that made the metal creak under his hands.
"Mustang, do you have any clue on what's causing this traffic?" Amor asked, leaning forward to peer past the windshield.
"Rush hour," Mustang said flatly.
"Seriously? We're stuck in rush hour traffic?" Banri groused.
"People live here too, and if you want to live, you need a job," Mustang answered, voice low and fatalistic.
"Laaame," Banri drawled.
Prius sat in the back, sketchpad on his knees, pencil flicking across the paper. "I'm really glad that I brought something to sketch on, because we're gonna be here for a while. It really is a good thing that I found my pen before we left," he said, contentedly detailed.
"Oh, I'm so happy for you," Akarui muttered.
Prius looked up from his pad and found Akarui regarding him with a raised eyebrow. "I don't appreciate your sarcasm," he said.
"What do you want me to say?" Akarui replied.
"Hey, Prius, you have such a nice looking pen!" Prius suggested, mock-earnest.
"Aha, yeah, no," Akarui said, unimpressed.
In the trunk, cramped but comfortable by now, Shi Ji and Shade shifted on the worn padding.
"Alright, so when we eventually jump out of the car I do need you to stick the landing," Shade said, eyes bright with mischief.
"Shade, what are you talking about?" Shi Ji asked, nervous.
"I can just smell the action, Shi Ji!" Shade declared.
"Why are you saying that with such joy?" Shi Ji blinked.
"Because, fighting is fuuun," Shade said, grinning as if confessing a guilty pleasure.
"Also, you said something about jumping out?" Shi Ji pressed.
"Just like Prius said," Shade answered.
"I don't think he was being serious," Shi Ji said, worried.
"It's still a good plan regardless!" Shade insisted.
"Shade, I'm not jumping out of a moving vehicle," Shi Ji sighed.
Up in the front, Mustang's body tensed as if some memory had snagged at him; then his shoulders sagged. I feel like I'm forgetting something… he thought, voice muffled beneath the helmet.
"Mustang, are you alright?" Banri asked.
"We… forgot someone," Mustang said slowly.
"Whaaat, really? Who?" Banri replied.
"Tiger…" Mustang said, the name tasting like a dropped coin.
"We forgot Tiger?!" Amor spat.
"Yeah..." Mustang confirmed.
"Tch, looks like someone's plan had holes in them," Amor said, annoyed.
"Shoot, I forgot Tiger?!" Prius called from the backseat, genuinely surprised.
"We'll be fine without him," Banri shrugged.
Every muscle in Mustang snapped taut; veins rose like ropes along his forearms. Then the engine of his patience exploded. "I HATE THIS GOD DAMN TRAFFIC!!!" he roared, slamming his fist on the horn and making it blare like an alarm.
"I was waiting for you to snap, coach," Amor observed.
Mustang yanked the wheel and shoved the van into the emergency lane. Matthew, perched on top of the van atop the giant battle-axe, nearly toppled but clawed his way back, bracing on the metal with surprised agility. Mustang stomped the gas and the van lunged down the shoulder, a silver blur cutting past a forest of idle cars.
"This is kind of dangerous. This is breaking so many road laws," Akarui said, voice tight.
"Ha— you think Mustang obeys road laws?" Prius laughed, pencil still poised over his sketch.
"I mean, it's not like the cops are gonna pull us over or anything?" Lana said, half-joking, half-hopeful.
"Yeah, they won't, but the Faulty Tilt has their own kind of enforcers for the players," Amor warned.
They tore along the shoulder for a few tense seconds, then Mustang jerked the wheel back into the main lane — cutting off a large truck in the process. The road ahead opened, but the truck behind retaliated with a furious blast of its horn. Mustang leaned out, punched through his own window, and flipped the driver the bird.
"I'LL KICK YOUR GOD DAMN ASS IF YOU WANT ME TO!!!" he shouted, voice swallowing the truck's horn. Then he sped off into the clearing distance, unrepentant.
"That's my coach," Amor said with a small, fond pride.
"This is more my pace," Banri added, eyes gleaming.
"When I find that damn bear..." Mustang muttered into the roar of the engine as the van pushed onward.
About an hour had bled away on the road, and the van's passengers were still awake only because boredom kept them from sleeping.
Lana rubbed her stomach and complained, "I'm getting hungry."
"In a couple of miles there's a dinner," Mustang said, voice flat.
"And how many miles is a couple of miles?" Lana pressed.
"Two hundred," Mustang answered.
"That is NOT a couple of miles!" Lana snapped.
Banri reached backward into the seats and, with all the showmanship he could muster, held an empty palm out like a platter. "If you're hungry you can eat this imaginary burger." He offered the air to Lana.
"That's not funny," Lana said.
"Fine. If you don't want it, I'll eat it myself." Banri pulled his hand back, formed invisible fingers around the phantom patty, and took a theatrical bite.
"I would have taken the offer," Amor said, amusement softening her tone.
"I'll give you a little something after I'm done with this one." Banri took another exaggerated bite of nothing.
On the roof, Matthew scanned the traffic behind them and squinted at a sudden flash of light. He peered closer and froze — something sat on top of the truck they'd cut off earlier: a figure hunched on the cab, a harsh beam sweeping the lane straight at them. Matthew rapped his knuckles on the van's roof.
"I think Matthew's knocking," Prius said from the trunk.
"He must see something then," Mustang replied.
"And how do you know that?" Akarui asked.
"I told him myself. If he sees anything odd, give the van a knock," Mustang said.
"I'll try to see what he's seeing." Lana's eyes went pitch-black for a heartbeat.
"Woah, woah, what the hell?!" Akarui blurted.
"It's her gimmick, relax," Prius said, nonchalant.
Lana's vision folded into Matthew's perspective. She watched the light on the truck's roof intensify. "There's a light — it's on top of a truck dozens of cars behind us. I think it's the same truck we cut off."
"A light you say… Oh shit—" Prius started.
Lana narrowed her focus like a lens. On the truck roof lay a man: shirtless, wearing cargo shorts and a bucket hat, a cross necklace swinging against his chest, dark, rough hair tossed by the wind. Most alarmingly, he cradled a sniper rifle and had the scope locked on Matthew, who was standing up to get a better look. The man adjusted his aim a touch lower toward the lane and pulled the trigger.
The shot hammered out — a crisp sound that should have spelled death — and for a breath the bullet soared like any other. Then it betrayed physics: the projectile turned translucent mid-flight and began to bounce. It skipped off a car door, ricocheted between vehicles, moon-balling toward the van. The bullet rose in a perfect arc toward Matthew and, at the last instant, unraveled into a wave of sound that engulfed his body. For a stunned heartbeat nothing changed — then a cavernous, jagged hole ruptured Matthew's chest.
"Matthew's been hit!" Lana shrieked.
"We're under attack." Mustang's voice sliced through the van.
"Fighting time?" Shade said, half-eager.
"Shade. WE ARE NOT JUMPING OUT OF THE BACK OF THIS CAR," Shi Ji yelled.
"We are sooo jumping out the back of this car," Shade insisted, all grin.
Prius ripped his shirt off in one practiced movement and yanked a door open. "Sick Tattoos: Cool Wings." The black ink on his skin shivered and rose, inked limbs erupting into physical black wings that snapped and stretched as they formed. Prius leapt free, wings beating him into the air.
Matthew wavered on the roof and toppled, but Prius was already up — he dove, caught Matthew, and vaulted high above the van, fighting the wind to keep pace. The sniper on the truck did not look away; he spat, British accent rough in the open air. "Strewth, I didn't sign up to be knockin' off ducks, mate." He aimed again, turning his attention to the rear of the van.
"Reckon I'll just knock off the whole shebang." The muzzle of the rifle brimmed with a strange energy before he fired. This shot screamed: so fast it left a transparent wake, and where it struck cars it didn't make small holes — it blew gaping, cannon-size wounds, detonating vehicles into sudden, burning explosions.
Inside the van, Miriam pressed her palms together and closed her eyes like a supplicant. A translucent blue dome blossomed around the vehicle and absorbed the blast, stopping the slug dead as if it had struck an invisible wall.
"Good thinking, Miriam," Amor breathed.
"Mhm," Miriam responded, steady.
"Prius, Matthew. Stop the traffic behind that truck; things are going to get dangerous!" Mustang barked, his voice reaching the two airborne men.
"On it." Prius angled his wings and streaked across the sky with Matthew cradled in his arms, a black silhouette racing down the highway to confront the threat.
They were still in the sky-slice of chaos, Prius and Matthew streaking ahead to confront the threat while the van and the speeding truck drew a warlike line down the highway. Amor pressed a hand to her mouth, staring at the distant roof where the sniper had been. "You said a sniper? There's no way its—" she began.
"No, it definitely is," Mustang cut in, voice like iron.
Akarui craned his neck, looking past the wreckage. "Who are we facing?"
"The Mighty Bulls, and most importantly, they're All-star and sniper, Wai," Mustang said, each name falling like a hammer.
On the truck roof the figure straightened. "Bloody oath, they're already schemin' and that. Just hope I can knock one of the bastards off." The rifle in his hands shimmered and then simply vanished into thin air as if obedience to physics had been suspended. He rose, boots finding purchase on the battered metal.
"Oi, Pop, boot the ute!" he shouted, and the truck answered — accelerating with brutal ease, plowing through the exploded scraps of metal and scorched paint like a land whale through kelp.
Banri leaned forward, casual arrogance in his posture. "So Mustang, do you want me to do anything?"
"No, I think we're just fine with the people in the back of the car," Mustang replied, eyes glued to the road.
Amor's lips twitched with irritation. "So does that mean I can't join the action?"
"You can if you want to, I just don't want our superstar possibly getting into trouble," Mustang said without looking away.
"Laaaame," Banri drawled.
"Does this mean we get to jump out of the van?!!" Shade crowed, adrenaline fizzing through him.
"Shade—" Shi Ji started, voice tight.
"Of course go ahead," Mustang said, unexpectedly permissive.
Miriam took a breath and nodded. "I suppose I'll drop the barrier." The blue dome that had cocooned them winked out, leaving the van exposed.
Shade grabbed Shi Ji's shoulder with a grin that had mischief stitched into every knuckle. "You can stay here then," he said, and then stepped back and shoved the rear door open.
"False Weapon Style: Arrow!" Shade barked, and he threw an arrow of compressed wind that sliced toward the truck like a thrown spear.
Wai barely flinched. "Oi, who does he reckon he is, eh?" he said, launching himself off the truck in a single, graceful arc. Mid-air he kicked the wind-arrow aside with contemptuous ease, landed on the asphalt, and then simply ran — astonishingly, impossibly fast — sprinting down the shoulder toward the van and outpacing the truck that bore him.
"OH MY GOD HE'S FAST!!!" Shi Ji shrieked, half-lost between awe and alarm.
"Tch, good!" Shade punched his fist once, pleased.
Mustang stomped the accelerator and the van surged forward, engine roaring with the sudden bite of speed. He leaned into the chase like a man following blood. "They better hope they don't destroy my van," he growled, as the gap between enemies slammed shut.