Through the Wicked, Winding Streets

[Pee-Dee]

Month 6, Week 2, Day 4. After "Belle Isle by Night". Semi-private.

Miles grind down under her wheels. The sun set long ago, and midnight passed not too far back. Empty streets twist beneath empty memories; she sees everything for the first time, and she might as well see nothing. Her mind refuses anything but the road and her motorcycle.

A light turns red, and she brakes at an empty intersection. She sits, waits, blue motorcycle rumbling beneath blue Kevlar-clad body, a red motorcycle jacket zipped up, and a tinted black helm.

[Nightbeat]

A blue Porsche with flame decals tears through the intersection. It's entirely possible it's speeding. Not that it really matters, as the streets are, as has been previously noted, deserted.

[Pee-Dee]

I know that car!

It leaps to her mind, and she's off after him before she realizes she doesn't know where. But maybe he does, and she doesn't know why she thinks the driver is a he.

He's fast; so's she. There's no need for thought in a chase like this; her motorcycle is an extension of her body.

Or her body is an extension of her motorcycle.

[Nightbeat]

Muzzle is lounging in the driver's seat, half-asleep, fedora pulled down over his face. Nightbeat is poised to wake him up with a telepathic poke in case they need to pretend he's driving.

Muzzle, someone's chasing us.

"Snrk- what-huh?" the Nebulan responds. It takes him about half a second to come to full wakefulness. In their line of work, you can't afford to be a heavy sleeper. He peers into the rear-view mirror. "What do you figure, local or a 'Con?"

Beats me. They aren't shooting, whoever they are.

You want to try and get a closer look or try to lose 'em? both detectives think at each other at the same time.

A decision is made. The Porsche screeches to a halt, making a U-turn as it skids, then accelerating toward the cyclist, aiming to drive right past her.

[Pee-Dee]

He turns; she smiles. She guns her engine, shifts into the other lane. Come on, boy, let's play a game. Do you think I'm good enough to avoid hitting you? Do you think you're good enough to avoid hitting me?

Part of her wonders if this is how she ended up in the hospital in the first place. The rest of her does not care.

[Nightbeat]

"He's not seriously-?" Muzzle asks. You'd have to be crazy to play chicken with a car if you're on a motorcycle.

Nightbeat guns it, accelerating toward the cyclist silhouetted in his headlights. He only swerves aside at the last second, close enough that Muzzle would be able to see the biker's expression if she weren't wearing a helmet.

Well, it's a woman, not a hologram, so if it's a Decepticon then it's either got a kidnapped victim or it's been turned into a human.

"A 'Con would try and stay out of sight and tail us, not play chicken. It's probably a local."

It'd depend which 'Con it was, Nightbeat responds telepathically as he turns down a side-street.

[Pee-Dee]

How right Muzzle is!

She jinks to the side at the last second - fortunately, the same side Nightbeat was leaving open. There's a turn of her helmet - she glances inside the car - there's a man there, and he is... not entirely a stranger. She expected a man with the car.

-Well, yes, of course she did.

She frowns and slews her bike around. Her mind is running out from under her thoughts - she turns down a different side-street, meaning to catch the flame-decaled car at another intersection.

(She doesn't remember how well Nightbeat can hear.)

[Nightbeat]

Nightbet counts the treads on Petunia's tires as she drives around him. Muzzle pulls one of his precious few remaining Nebulan cigarettes from his trenchcoat and lights it, as Nightbeat obligingly opens a window. He also turns off his headlights.

Muzzle chuckles. How long do you figure it'll take before she figures out we stopped?

[Pee-Dee]

At the next intersection, she pauses, listens. Kills her motorcycle's engine, listens harder. There is no roar from a Porsche's engine, and her heart sinks. Did she lose him?

She dismounts and walks her motorcycle, thinking. Losing him doesn't feel... possible. But that makes no sense, of course she can lose him, it is night and they are in a strange city. He can vanish, and if he's really someone she knows, he'll find her later, because-

Because-

Because she can't be all alone. Jane Does only wake up with no one looking for them in the movies!

Loneliness and despair hits her like a sledgehammers. She's on her hands and knees, panting raggedly, with no recollection of the space between here and standing. Her bike's fallen on its side. Blankness swims across her eyes; she can't even see her hand on the pavement.

[Nightbeat]

Nightbeat hears the woman dismount her motorcycle and walk toward the side street where he's hiding, though it takes some effort to pick up against all the background noise of the city.

Both Autobot and Nebulan partner are content to let her walk on past when they hear the crash of the motorcycle falling over. Muzzle says "Wait here," and draws his revolver even as Nightbeat is opening the door for him.

He ends up standing over Petunia, pistol pointing at the ground but ready to level on her if need be. "Keep your hands where I can see 'em. You okay?"

[Pee-Dee]

She sucks in air, there's not enough- Each breath comes more ragged and gasping- It's stifling inside her helmet, she's suffocating-!

She tears her helmet off in a frenzy of sudden movement that might possibly result in Muzzle shooting her. But she can breathe again, and her breathing gradually becomes shallower until she's breathing normally again.

Then the presence of the man registers with her. She looks up, searching what she can see of his face in the darkness-

She doesn't recognize him.

Despondently, she replies, "The pieces don't fit together so good, with all the breaking and the gluing back.¹"


1. "Astronaut", Amanda Palmer

[Nightbeat]

Muzzle takes a rapid step back when Petunia whips off her helmet, but doesn't fire. He's an alien cyborg and doesn't want people to know about it. Shooting people is not conducive to his health unless they shoot first.

"Breaking and- what? You hit your head or something, sister?" He reaches down, meaning to lift her up under her armpit.

[Pee-Dee]

"Yes." She allows herself to be pulled to her feet. "But that was a few days ago now."

[Nightbeat]

"Wait, a few days ago? How many?" he asks. The muzzle of his gun lowers slightly. Because if it was on a certain day, that would be very, very interesting.

[Pee-Dee]

"Four. Why?" Wariness coils in her muscles - she doesn't know this man from Adam and he sure as heck isn't acting like he knows her. She jerks away from Muzzle, going to pick up her bike. Her eyes never entirely leave him, though.

In the street lights, they're red.