The Honda Ridgeline tore down the highway ramp, tires screeching, engine howling like a banshee being fed Red Bull. Inside the cab, it was a cowboy clown car of sheer panic.
Arthur, riding shotgun, gripped the door handle. "You sure you know how to drive this steel beast, Jake?!"
"Bro it's an automatic, it's not that hard—OH SHIT—"Cue narrowly dodging a minivan driven by a soccer mom flipping them off.
In the back seat, Dutch and John were squeezed tight like sardines in a bullet-riddled tin. John leaned forward, eyes darting out the window. "There's more of 'em comin'. Two cruisers—no—three!"
Dutch stayed composed, like some dusty Buddha in a Stetson. "Gentlemen, I say we think like adults. We've entered hostile territory—unarmed civilians, high-speed travel, confusing magic machines—what we need now is a calm, measured approach."
Cut to:
Micah, sprawled out in the open bed of the truck, gripping the rails, bouncing like a ragdoll in a tumble dryer. "Goddamn this bumpy-ass wagon! I'm gonna break my spine back here!"
The truck hits a pothole.Micah slams into the side panel with a clang. "AHH, that's it—fuck this!"
He pulls his revolver.
Jake, glancing at the rearview mirror, sees it and shouts, "Micah! No! We're in real life now! You can't just—"
BLAM.
Too late.
The bullet sails with deadly precision, slamming through the windshield of the pursuing cruiser.
The officer jerks sideways—his elbow lands hard on the steering wheel—the cruiser swerves.
Straight into a fuel tanker.
Everything stops.
Then—
KRAK-BOOM!
The world erupts in pure, molten fury. A wall of orange flame engulfs the street behind them, hurling twisted metal, flaming debris, and chunks of police car into the sky like it was Judgment Day.
One burning figure, screaming in agony, stumbles from the flames and collapses on the asphalt—his screams turning into a crackling silence.
Arthur stared, stunned. "Jesus. Jesus. He was still alive..."
Dutch looked ahead, jaw tight, his earlier calm shattered. "I told you we should act like adults. But now? We've crossed a line, boys."
Micah—completely unbothered—shouted over the roar of the firestorm. "WOOO! Welcome to the new frontier, baby! That's how we do it out West!"
John looked at Jake, voice shaky. "We're... we're in deep now. That wasn't just a patrol. That was murder."
Jake's face twisted as he floored the gas. "No shit, Sherlock. We just scored ourselves a goddamn five-star GTA chase in real life!"
Sirens grew louder behind them.
Arthur pulled out his own revolver and loaded it slowly. "We're not gettin' outta this without blood. Again."
Dutch finally sighed. "No turning back now."
Jake gritted his teeth. "Strap in. Aim low. Shoot tires only unless they shoot first. Welcome to the fucking apocalypse."