"Minuet, Dolce, what's your status?"

A click and a short moment of static before voices burst from the walkie-talkie in Grave's hand. "Gordon passed by. So far so good, over."

Another short pause, then another voice. "I think I hit the driver. That's okay, right?"

Grave squeezed the button, pulling the speaker up to his mouth. "What, are they still going or did they stop there?"

"No they're still going down the road Rest wanted." Another click, then the voice rose again. "Ah, over...I'm supposed to say over right?"

Grave turned his head, completely ignoring Dolce's question as he squeezed the walkie-talkie one more time. "Crescendo, do you see them yet?"

"I see them. ETA in five minutes, if they decide not to charge straight through me. Over."

"Okay. Everyone, withdraw and meet back up with Overture and Finale. We've got it from here, over."

"Hey, Grave. Did you actually miss?"

Grave let out a low grumble, twisting the knob at the top of the device before thrusting the walkie-talkie into his coat pocket. The street the had emerged into was utterly deserted. The entire explosion and gun fight that no doubt could be heard in a thirty mile radius around the plaza had chased most if not all of the civilians into their houses. Which was technically good for them. All that was around now were several wooden crates full of produce and some construction crane hauling up something large wrapped in a white canvas. He turned around, seeing Rest standing in the center of the street, a metal plate no longer than two feet in one hand and the other grasping at his hat. The boy was shaking his head.

"Dammit, it's a lot wider than I thought..."

"We've got five minutes Rest!" Grave eyed the plate with a frown. He knew Rest always had a knack for mechanics but every new contraption always drew suspicion from Grave. In situations like this, however, he had no choice but to just trust his friend that his toys would work. "Just stick it down somewhere!"

"Hold on, hold on..." He turned around, holding out the plate before him. "Ah, there's just no guarantee they'll drive over it in an alley this wide..." Rest shook his head again, rubbing his forehead as he swung his gaze from one side of the street to the other. "Think, think..."

"Figure something out! We don't have much time!" Grave swung his head, eyes grazing the windows in the adjacent walls for potential sniper nests. There was just no way to climb any higher than three or four floors in five minutes without knowing the floor plan. And that was if the civilians inside were willing to open the door for him. With a loaded rifle hanging on his back. He had to figure something out too.

"I got it!"

Grave turned his gaze back to Rest, catching him rising to his feet at one side of the street. The plate was flat on the ground, no more than three feet from the surrounding buildings. Grave threw up his hands. "The sidewalk, Rest?! A trap for a speeding car on the side--"

Rest spun around. "Nevermind that, Grave! Get in position! Just remember- Aim for the backseat!" No sooner had he spoken those words that he turned sharply and made a dash for a nearby alleyway.

"Hey!" Grave only took a step after Rest. "You're not coming with me?"

Rest shouted over his shoulder, the remainder of his words echoing out of the alleyway as he rounded the corner. "I'll stop the car! You just worry about shooting Gordon, got it?"

"Rest! Rest!" He was only answered by the echoing footsteps of Rest scaling a metal platform, possibly a fire escape. Grave cursed and turned himself, finally swept up in the feeling of urgency. He could already faintly hear the metal groaning down the street, growing louder with each passing second. Four minutes and counting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Almost an entire minute had passed without the sound of the gunfire raining down on them from the rooftops interrupting the racket coming from the back wheel. The ride become increasingly bumpier, especially on the left side of the backseat. Gordon had virtually clamped himself down on the passenger seat side, the rattling forcing Gordon to clench his teeth in an effort to still the rattling of his brain. A welcome reprieve for both the two bodyguards in front. Still, Reis in the passenger seat was holding on for dear life. With the driver being shot, Jordon was driving with only one hand, his face growing paler by the minute.

"I don't like this." Reis shook his head, scanning the passing buildings. His eyes were locked on the crane coned off at one side of the street and then the scaffolding built against the wall the crane was against, but there wasn't a single soul in sight. "It's too quiet."

"We'll make it." Jordan's eyes were locked on the horizon, doing his best to keep his line of vision from swaying. And then he saw it. A sharp speck of light, a reflection possibly, gleaming right into his eyes. It wasn't strong enough for it to blind him and vanished just as fast as it was born. Jordan's eyes followed it, a metal plate at the sidewalk coming into existence. "What the...?"

Gordon suddenly lurched forward, the sharp thunk of the seatbelt halting the politician from diving straight out of the windshield. He threw a finger straight at the roof of one of the fast approaching buildings. "I-It's him!"

"Governor, please stay in your seat--"

"It's that journalists! He's a terrorist!"

Reis had no choice but to follow Gordon's gaze. But the fat man was right. A boy had appeared at the top of the scaffolding against the building. And now as they drew closer, he recognized the boy as the geese reporter from before. There was something in his hand as well. The shape was hard to mistaken. A pistol.

"Shit!"

Reis had attempted to draw his own pistol, his rifle too large to wield inside such a cramped space, but he was already too late. The boy lifted his gun but it wasn't pointed at the car. The barrel was aimed out towards the rope dangling at the end of the crane's arm. A loud crack sounded, and then the rope split. The large hanging mass began it's fast plummet towards the street.

Reis' hand, instead of grasping for his pistol, struck Gordon in the face, pushing him back into his seat. Someone had shouted something, but it was lost the moment the driver made a hard turn. Both Reis and Gordon slammed into the right side of the car, then flew towards the left as Jordan swung the car wheel again to avoid crashing into the side of the building. The massive object shattered as it hit the floor, the white canvas billowing open to reveal a wooden bathtub splintering into a million pieces, the shards thrown through the open windows of the car.

Just as Jordan spun the wheel to recover from the sharp turn, the front wheels made a loud thump. One of the wheels had struck the exact metal plate that Jordan had spotted in the very beginning, but rather than gliding over it just as he had hoped, the wheel made a loud shunk followed by a shredding noise, ribbons of the wheel thrown out as the rim struck the stone floor and all control of the car was lost. The car continued to turn, no longer riding on all four wheels and the entire frame of the car tipped over.

The vehicle flopped over on its side, sparks showering the sliding car for the brief moment it was touching the floor. And how brief it was. Forward momentum flipped it onto its top, then once more onto its other side before gravity finally decided it was a good place to stop messing with the passengers and slowed the vehicle to a stop.