Marco didn’t answer. His jaw was locked. In the rearview, three police interceptors fishtailed around the corner, their lights bleeding red and blue into the rain. Madout Open City 2 wasn’t a game anymore. Not since VegaCorp put a bounty on his head.
The landing shattered the rear axle. Sparks showered behind them. But the police cars, less lucky, tumbled into the pit below in a shriek of crumpling metal and exploding airbags.
It had started as a race. Just another illegal midnight sprint for pink slips and pride. But Marco had stumbled onto something in the city’s neural net—a corrupted traffic mainframe that VegaCorp used to rig every official event, seize properties, and crush small crews like his. When he downloaded the proof, they marked him.
“Two more blocks,” hissed Lana from the passenger seat, her knuckles white around a tablet showing their escape route. “The tunnel under the old Grand Bridge.”
Lana touched his arm. “We have the data now. We can leak it. End VegaCorp.”
He pulled into an abandoned parking garage, killed the engine, and rested his forehead on the steering wheel. Rain dripped from his hair. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped animal.
“You’re not serious,” Lana whispered.