He looked at Lana, and for the first time that night, he smiled.
Marco didn’t slow down. He guided the limping Jester into the tunnel, darkness swallowing them whole. When they emerged on the far side, the sirens were ghosts.
The tires screamed as Marco ripped the handbrake, sending his beat-up Jester Classic into a gutter-slide through the alley. Police chopper blades thumped overhead, their searchlight carving a white-hot scar across the wet asphalt of Madout City. madout open city 2
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.
Marco floored it. The Jester’s nitrous system, held together by duct tape and spite, roared to life. The car launched up the ramp. For one breathless second, they sailed through air thick with rain and exhaust. The overpass gaped like a broken jaw. They cleared it by inches. He looked at Lana, and for the first
“Left! Hard left!” Lana shouted.
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. When they emerged on the far side, the sirens were ghosts
“Let’s go steal their traffic mainframe.”