Two Wrongs @cleaverxfever
The engine hums underneath them as they race through traffic. Streams of light from the other cars left in the dust. The night air tearing at her skin dark and cold like the deep ocean, as they ripped down the highway. The fucking guy was going to kill them one of these days, but they were catching up.
Dispatch had send out a call, a relucted call. "There been a jewelry theft, white male, mid forties in a grey Bronco racing down highway 69." And they, Caller and Morgana where fated once again to work together.
Morgana poked Callers shoulder and pointed at an exit. She had just made out the shitbox veering off the highway, but there was no mistaking it. They where in the right place. Caller sped up and she tighten her grip as they drifted the whole ass turn off the highway. At the end of it they heard a loud POP, the bronco was toast and pulling off to the side of the road. Then a figure bursts out of the car, bag in hand, full sprint towards some kind of carnival or fair?
