Chapter 351 - Far Future Ch. 61 – Wheels to the Wall (1/2)

I crossed right over the top of the death hauler, sunroof sliding open. Not even looking up as Wobbler aimed, I dumped a Sun Shot into the fuel core of the flamethrower. Yeah, that petrol looks pretty, but pretty explosive, y'know?

The fire-tosser screamed, and then it blew, brushing past me as Joy completed her rollover on the opposite side of the truck, hit the ground, bounced, gripped, and redirected momentum forwards as the back of the kill-rig was enveloped in flames, and several flaming individuals were ejected from their shooting positions.

It was fortunate they hadn't thought a roof was all that important right there, just shooter platforms...

I doubted this guy had learned his lesson, and he had to be extra pissed that I'd just blown up all his shooters, even as the coms whooped with glee and the crowds went nuts.

Now, being he was a cheaty-type for the track owners, he'd get warnings of the triggers, and actually wouldn't trigger them with his rig. That was blatantly unfair, but the Killer Whale was there to kill, not to be killed. It also bred a certain complacency, since he didn't have to worry about them, he wasn't as concerned about where he was on the road.

Driving a great big flaming load of naptha, he veered at me, and Joy nimbly danced inches in front of his prow-blades, sending up a few sparks, her tail wagging and suddenly dancing into a wild spin right in front of his eyes, across his field of vision.

Like any good hunter, he veered after me, ignoring the trigger warning as I spun across the trigger with all four tires, just like I had with Drum-Drum.

I was three-quarters of the way through my spin when I saw his head jerk up at the collision alert, and SNAP, the Wall went up across the center lane, missing my ride by about a quarter-inch as it did so.

Yeah, that was three feet of durasteel, just a big ass slab of metal. It wasn't moving for nothing, and they couldn't stop it from going up in time.

His prow spikes bit in a good six inches, but that didn't mean shit. He went from eighty to nothing in no time, and had all that steel wanted to keep going behind him, too. I saw the shock gel go off as I completed my spin, my tires gripped, and the back of the Killer Whale rose him up and over and came down on him in a great flaming mess as it ripped him over the Wall, and ground him down along the road beneath fire and steel.

I fishtailed back into the center lane as the rest of the pack came up behind me. They couldn't hide their cheers, because that was a damn awesome sight, and now the track owners were going to be pissed at me.

Fuck 'em, I needed the Karma, and they were all killers, they got what was coming to them. They'd probably try to kill Fyr after the race was over... but hey, that was even more Karma, and they weren't expecting a Driver to be a swordswoman, even though they knew I could shoot.

My Six needed Karma as much as my main self, especially if I was going to cut them free. I couldn't do it right now, the link was so strong that it didn't even need the Marks to maintain itself now. But I figured if I could get these thoughtstreams up to the 30 Charisma, get them to Ten, and cut the Marklink as I went into their past lives, they'd be able to stand alone outside the link with their own souls and identity given extra force by accessing all those extra years.

I didn't mean to take their lives, and even if I enjoyed being multiples of me, I considered it wasn't right, and they'd certainly be more productive independently then as extra hands for me.

Maybe. In any event, I agreed with myselves that it was the right thing to do, and would be trying it when my Karma got up there. If it didn't, darn, I guess there'd just be seven physical me's to complement the extra six or so mental ones currently in my ExLite head...

Anyways, I had a race to finish. I'd already done the research on the drivers, and only two of the sixteen who started this race weren't hardened killers, and were driving for reasons other than killing ruthlessly for the prize money.

I'd be doing my best to make sure they finished the race with me, but I was still going to win.

Joy rumbled and peeled out ahead, as gunfire started to ring on my tailshield again, and the wolves chased my white rabbit as I peeled back a smile to reveal my canines.

They weren't packing holy hand grenades...

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Janus Prime, as befits a mega-city, had a metric arse-load of roads, and all of it was run by the fine folk at Traffic Control.