The road stretched before him. Markus could feel the chassis vibrating softly around him and smiled, then rammed the shifter and slammed on the gas pedal, lurching his car forward. His Lamborghini Aventador raced ahead, hitting 60 miles per hour in just under three seconds. He knew everything about this car, from how she handled to the fact that it took roughly half a second to shift gears to the nearly $400,000 price tag. He also knew that he, in fact, paid nothing for the car, but had won it when his heavily modified Lancer Evo had just outskinned the last owner’s time. The idiot thought he could win in a very convoluted track through a bustling city. Obviously he had been wrong.

This race was different. The route? Straight down and back, just the way the Aventador liked it. Markus once again smiled when the car hit 200 miles per hour. He loved this car. Checking in his rearview he could see the other driver struggling to keep up. The amateur thought his flashy Japanese Rail Car could get the best of him, and this was obviously proving false. Even his NOS was proving virtually ineffective against Markus’s beauty. A four mile straightaway outside of a relatively small Northeastern city was all his Lamborghini needed to bring him some more money. He relished the thought. This would be an easy win. He was nearing his victory.

Suddenly flashing lights filled his rearview. Markus cursed. Where had the policeman come from? His opponent swerved off of the road and raced to disappear from view, but two more squad cars appeared and followed after. Markus was sure that his opponent was grateful for the interrupted race, seeing as how there was no chance he could actually win. He wondered fleetingly if he would escape the police, but pushed the thought out of his mind. He had no room to worry about others. He had to focus on himself.

Markus analyzed the situation. He had nothing to fear as long as they were on the highway, but that was soon coming to an end, and then he had to worry about small city streets with possible traffic. The city also held other concerns; he had no idea how many authorities there were aware of the situation. He had to assume that they all knew, and thus that he was travelling straight into a metaphorical hornet’s nest. He gripped the wheel harder, focusing on putting as much distance between him and his current pursuers as possible.

He came to the city and downshifted, playing the brakes, sliding smoothly into the first turn. He was lucky that the streets seemed relatively empty, and maneuvered between cars. The sirens were fading, and Markus dared to breathe a little. He might have gotten lucky.  He eased into the next turn, and again was met with relative quiet. He smiled. He just may make it through. He quickly maneuvered the gears and turned once more, cutting over the sidewalk to shave some time.

His tires careened over the bump and the car lurched, and Markus saw what he had barely avoided.The darkness had obscured a trap; the police had laid spiked orbs in the street and were waiting for him. As he fought for control of the car, his path in front of him was filled with squad cars, lights flashing. Cursing again, Markus yanked the e-brake and threw the steering wheel, sliding into a 180 degree turn. Slamming the gas, the air filled with smoke as his car fought for traction. Finding some, she pulled forward and Markus suddenly was much more afraid than he was a minute before.

He maneuvered around the trap and raced off, mind racing even quicker than his car. The squad car following him suddenly rounded the corner ahead and Markus jerked the wheel again, grazing a nearby sedan. He fishtailed, struggling for control as the squad car came barreling toward his flank. Suddenly, blessedly his tires found traction once again and he peeled off, causing the policeman to collide with the already affected sedan. Markus had an opening: he blasted right where the squad car had come from and headed straight out of town again.

Markus breathed a sigh of relief. He was on the highway again and had miles and miles of straightaway to lose them. There was no chance they could catch him now. He had a garage in a city forty miles west. He could easily lose them there. Markus smiled. He may not have gotten the cash he was planning on, but it had been a while since he’d had a good police chase. His car sped ahead. It was good to live.