First Reply Speeder Chase on Denon

[Glade]

Sirens blazing away in the rear view of her purple speeder canopy, blaster shots whizzed by in an attempt to catch her attention. Fat chance Suckers!
Denon District 12 | Open​

Denon's district twelve pulsed at this time of night, but the thrill of the chase laced the buzz. Had her luck finally run out? Neon lights danced in the light rain, casting a familiar glow across her windshield. Oppressive corporate gloom, sushi bars, and cybernetic studios were the main features of the district's landscape. She wouldn't be another number serving time paying back two mill—her loans and debts would haunt her life. And then there was darkwire—had the fun finally ended and the members been silenced? They'd burned enough corporate butts to bring the heat down hard, association enough to condemn. Nah, y'know whatever, live free or well, don't.

"I detect no less than fourteen pursuit vehicles." An unseen droid's voice filled the speeder's cockpit, which boasted a snug, comfortable interior.

"Only fourteen? Pfft" She scrunched her nose up, yikes, avoiding a speeder jumping the embankment and almost sideswiping her to join the chase.

"My apologies, fifteen. Might I suggest surrender?"

"Y'know, let's surrender next time? Kay?" Tapping the controls next to her, the Kiffar aligned the speeder directly with the coming elevated bend, boosting the throttle to max, and holding on. She injected some deep blue midnight-run stim into her arm, accelerating her hyperfocus and slowing time down. What a buzz!

"This is not advisable! This vehicle is not designed for aerial—"

The speeder skipped off the end of the elevated bend, smashing through the railing and sailing through the air before bumping along the ground. The hard landing jolted her, leaving her with a pounding headache. As the repulsor-lifts leveled the craft out, scratching sparks flew out behind her. The Kiffar girl wrestled with her controls to prevent her midnight-purple craft from flipping sideways!

"Yeppers, defs, a bad idea Fyors!"

Behind her, she saw a vehicle approaching her and also someone waving ahead...

OOC Open:

Spoiler

Open to aid in the chase or doing the chase.

 

[Flint Grayson]

Glade
​

There was little time to catch up on the full briefing of the pursuit.

Flint slammed the accelerator forward, not holding onto as much speed as he would have liked through the corner. The suspect he was chasing opted for speed over smooth landing. Poorly built Alliance speeders did not allow such luxuries as high impact resistance. Regardless, the chase was back on. Quad engines groaned as the speeder sprung forward as he tried to catch the purple culprit.

The agent was one of the first to start chasing the crazed driver. He had been tasked for many months now to crack down on illegal speeder racing that was happening through the streets on Denon. Intal suggested that racers were using the lower levels to host amateur races, but this also fronted a suspected hijacking business. People would race their speeders during the day, then go and rob turbo transports at night. Yet the group had started to get sloppy. This was hopefully the next big step into finding them.

"Dispatch, I need a tag run on a purple - no, dusty lavender speeder. Model looks pre-Csilla, maybe older."

Whoever the driver was had made the frustrating move of tampering with their registration tag. It was more than likely that they did not even have on at all. But they would answer for their crimes soon enough. Flint continued to accelerate his speeder, bringing the nose up to the back right corner of the suspect. He held the speed steady.

"All units, prepare for pit maneuver. I need eyes immediately if they start to run."

After various affirmations, the agent readied his speeder. Lining the front up, the man pitched it left, hoping to strike the right rear of the criminal, spinning them out. His blaster sat ready for a gunfight that was bound to occur.

 

[Glade]

Flint Grayson

Whisking by with nothing but a hope and a prayer, she straightened out, flooring it, but her pursuer caught her exactly where he wanted.

"Coreside Bleetable Bucketballs!"

Spin they did, Nato's life one long dizzying trip, the rugged little speeder ground metal yet again across the front of the chasing craft. Tugging at the controls, Nato embraced the spin by turning with it! Reckless and pumped up on stims, the adrenaline junkie pushed her repulsor to its limit, raising the craft upward across a food stand to decapitate poor 'Beebos Bantha Burgers' food cart in two! The maneuver gave her room to continue to turn, but not much.

"Come Come Come on! Just a'lil more." Skirting by and barely missing another speeder, the spin continued until her thruster corrected itself. Shunting the right side of her craft against the wall, she banged her elbow. Ouch. Iced-Stimcaf spilled from its holder, soaking her seat.

"No casualties. Systems nominal, Miss Natoline, structural integrity at 95%; I advise not testing another rightside impact." Fyor Droid analysed.

"No more wall slappin' Yes sir robo-britches. " Nato bobbed her head in agreement, wiping iced caf off her arm and throttling down to blow up dust, loose foodstuffs, and garbage at those nearby. Feeling guilty that she'd wrecked Burger Man's cart, she hid her face, only to pop up and wave at the craft trying to catch her. Next score, she'd track down and pay for Beebo's cart; that's kind'a what she liked to do when she wasn't breaking everything!

Pulling off at breakneck speeds, the Kiffar shot around a bend toward the bustling heart of District 12. The area teemed with traffic, expensive vehicles, and corporate bigshots. Moving into the center lane of the five-lane thoroughfare, she attempted to navigate through a sea of speeders, weaving through them with beeping reminders of near misses. The coming blare of sirens and the looming threat of potential roadblocks added to her adrenaline rush, but the dense traffic provided cover and challenges.

"Miss you mum." She whispered and pressed to elevate a small holo picture on her dashboard; it was blurred and not entirely in focus. It would've broken her heart for Sio to see what Nato had become, a bittersweet reality she never would.

Tag Investigations

Spoiler

Tag references might lead an investigator to a small autonomous droid mailbox center, her address labeled Fyor-Face in a quiet corner of Denon; all her delivery locker had in it was a carved purple figurine of a nondescript girl with a thumbs up to any poor officer following the trail.

 

[Flint Grayson]

Glade
​

A mumbled curse escaped the agent's mouth as he watched the scene unfold.

The skills of the criminal were impressive yet frustrating. Initially the pit maneuver appeared to be a success. The purple speeder had started to spin out of control. Yet against all odds the pilot powered through the attempt, plowing through a food cart in the process. Add destruction of commercial property to the ever-growing list of charges they would be facing. They were just lucky no civilians were killed, otherwise their chase would be a lot more lethal.

Bits of purple metal flung off of the escaping craft as it slammed into a nearby wall. It seemed as it would finally be the time to pull them over. But all of a sudden, a public vessel hurtled his direction, trying to avoid the chaos of the situation. Flint pitch left, narrowly dodging.

"Dammit!"

Too much speed as loss as the purple speeder began to pull away from the agent, deeper into the core of the city. Slamming the thrusters down once more, the man continued to pursue, multiple other officers following behind. A static buzz came from his radio as dispatch got him more info.

"We have a hit on a potential mailbox of the suspect."

Weaving in and out of traffic, Flint kept a close trail on the speed demon.

"I want two squad speeders down there to check it out. See if you can find us a home address."

The radio buzzed out as his team went to work back at base. For now though, the roar of the engines screamed loudly as they worked to reach the criminal. Part of his squad was currently deploying a useful tactic for high-speed pursuits. Half of the group keeps the suspect in full line of sight. The speeders fan out on the roadway, making it appear like there were more than there actually was. The other half of the group was a few miles ahead, currently setting up a roadblock and diverting civilian traffic. Here the goal was to make the criminal believe they still have a free shot at escape, but that was far from the truth.

It would only be a few more miles before the suspect was greeted with a plethora of officers, all who were ready to take them down.

 

[Glade]

Flint Grayson

With the road opening and traffic thinning, Natoline thought she'd hit her break. She hit max velocity, seeing a familiar warping as blips of light twinkled and vanished. Denon's back-alley engine jobs were unpredictable—either they'd blow the exhaust port or send her flying like a starfighter skimming the atmosphere.

Glancing at the mirror, intimidating lights swarmed behind her, Flint's speeder closing. The sight thrilled and terrified the adrenaline junkie. She had stirred up a nest'a'trouble this time.

"The level of traffic at this hour is highly irregular." Fyor-droids 200 IQ was no less now than when he was her close living friend and engineering genius

"Jus' lucky I guess." She didn't believe that; her nose was twitching, and her hands were squeezing at the controls; she cranked her music up to drown out her doubts, but the music couldn't hide the wall of cars ahead, a coming end to her thrill ride.

"Okaies. Okaies. No probs." Her instinct was to floor it and plow through, but the blurred photo of her mother on the dashboard stopped her from making a suicide run.

"Might I suggest an alternate route?" Fyor-droid's calm voice cut through her worry. A route flashed on the holo map, and reading it, Natoline's smile turned mischievous.

"Always say'in the sweetest things." She cut the thrust, letting the speeder glide steadily sideways while maintaining forward momentum; her craft shook from the side of it being used as a airbreak, jittering woman and machine as it went against its structural intent.

Using the extra space on the road, she punched it straight for a wall, "Here goes nothin'!" buckling up for once, probably to the sound of blaster fire.

Shattering. Throwing her around the cockpit, Glass flew everywhere as she drove through a speeder showroom. Admiring some of the designs, she made a mental note to come back and help herself next week. Not the time Nato!

Bursting out the other side, the front of her speeder took a ding, and her petite body bounced around the cockpit, adding a bruise or two. Pedestrians scattered, glass raining down on them. No, No, No. Sorry! Bad idea, bad idea! Pulling off amidst angry shouts, Natoline aimed to do a 180 back to the freeway she'd started on. Her purple craft and the woman inside looked increasingly dinted up. This is fine!

 

[Flint Grayson]

Glade
​

The agent gritted his perfect white teeth as the vigilante's speeder continued to pull away.

It seemed like the plan was still on track to work, as long as the roadblock was actually set up. Any cracks within it could lead to an escape. That was something that none of them could afford at this point in the chase. Cresting over the slight hill, Flint saw that the purple speeder was starting to get slowed up by the congested traffic. Perfect. Soon they would have the runner surrounded and forced to surrender. Yet the quick braking and sharp turn of the craft surprised the man. Busting through a large pane of glass, a large shatter rang as she sped away.

"No, no, no!"

He watched in frustration as the target once again sped off in escape. Flint slowed his craft right before the showroom, letting the other officers pull around him and continue the chase. Once halted, the man stood up in the cockpit of his speeder, assessing the situation. Tack on another charge of destruction. This pursuit had gone on long enough.

"Attention all units. Set blasters for kill. Avoid civilians at all costs. Do not let the target out of your sight."

The department could not afford another failure. Trying to clean up the streets of Denon - of his home planet - was hard enough. But when all of the odds were constantly being stacked against you, it felt as if the stars were aligning for their opposition. Dropping back into his seat, Flint restarted the engines. He punched the throttle and continued pursuit, hoping to catch the target within the lower levels maze-like layout.

 

[Glade]

Flint Grayson

A fast freeway was her goal, but first, she entered a maze of side streets to the sound of blaster fire zipping on by, tagging her right rear light. Ewokpants! Head down, the Kiffar girl raced through a honeycomb of alleys and avenues with all the speed she had in her youth, pushing her ability as a stimmed-up force user. The Denon fuzz hot on her heels, she had about ten seconds before they nibbled at her coattails; Nato could bail, but she wasn't exactly speed-girl outside her craft.

"We could alternate our mode of transportation," Fyor calculated.

"Never in a million Wet-Wampas, Fyor. Just got it all 'purplified' and comfy." Priorities, just a bit dinged up is all, she rubbed her sore elbow.

Whatever else she was, she was fast. Glade killed her lights, turned up her music louder still, and flung herself around tight turns her craft could barely handle. Head bobbing and cool blue breath from another stim shot frosting her windshield, the telltale sign of midnight-run coursing through her veins. She was driving to forget, to forget everything for a night.

Beside her trying to keep up with her agility, another craft spun off and vaulted a platform, ending up half sticking out of a building. She pointed up with glazed eyes, letting out a thrilled chuckle as blaster shots whizzed across her roof. Wait was everyone okay? Just Corpo's, right? Didn't matter right? Maybe.

"You are building a tolerance. Manage your intake schedule more effectively or seek a certified medical prescription."

"Just learnin'ta fly." Dangerous to chain two hits, but what was life without her buzz? 'sides it was all for her condition, yep, definitely that.

Her craft slowed to cruise, trying to slip by, turning like regular traffic and pulling up to a light. The speeder lights were still off, and her glazed-over expression cheekily tried not to express a smile as she closed on a security car; if he spotted her, she put it in reverse. Waiting to change direction, then speed forward past him the opposite way while he'd have to turn. Something Something about Best laid plans.

 

[Flint Grayson]

Glade
​

Echos of blaster fire could be heard on his radio.

To the agent's dismay, only a few of them grazed the hull of the purple speeder. This chase was becoming too costly. In order to keep the citizens of Denon safe, it might be best to let the criminal escape. Flint sat back in his seat, contemplating. On his monitor he could see the other officers spreading out through the maze of streets and alleys. He kept zooming to try and catch up with them, still trailing behind.

"Sir, we seem to have lost sight of the vessel."

Flint rose his hand to his head, rubbing his temple in frustration.

"Keep fanning out. She could not have gone far."

Pitching his speeder to the left, the agent rounded a corner as he reached an intersection. Reducing speed slightly, he tried to access his surroundings. Where did she go? He accelerated through one crossway, then another, then one more. On the final one something flashed out of the corner of his eye. Slamming on the brakes, the vessel skidded to a halt a little past the traffic light. Putting it in reverse, Flint slowly backed up until he was fully blocking the road. His head turned to the left as he stared directly into the cockpit of the purple craft. Slowly his brows furrowed as he made eye contact with the girl and the droid. Reaching down, the agent pinged his current location to the other officers...

...and turned on his red and blue lights.

 

[Glade]

Tag: Flint Grayson​

Her speeder thrust stopped its reverse when Flint's did, giving her some distance as she clutched the controls, light sweat running down her cheek. Nato noticed the marking on the facing speeder's front from their earlier clash. Bad timing! Popping her lips, she flashed her remaining lights, sassing him and looking back through her thrashed locks of hair. The thrust from the back of her craft pulsed on and off, the engine revving for their showdown. Best-laid plans sucked anyway; this was fire.

"Tracking multiple crafts in all directions." Across her dashboard, Fyor showed a picture of a sliced security feed, his scanners getting a fix on the coordinated trouble headed their way.

She didn't know how she was gonna get out of this one. Wasn't that always true? Flux luck. Left or right. Cell or carousel. Help swooping in at the last second, always with the swooping. Dark rings under her eyes from too many times doing this dance. She exhaled a breath of cool blue air against the glass, an icy moment coating the way ahead to hide the choice.

Sirens, Lights, Action

She drove right at him, accelerating, accelerating. Couldn't blink, couldn't stop, not tonight. Closing her eyes, she wove her craft to her right, feeling out with her senses, but the stims blocked any clarity. It all became luck. If Flint went to strike her like before, he'd pull toward her.

Then she swerved to her left; if he dodged instead, they'd probably hit each other. It all depended on Flint's instincts, eyes closed, Fyor's proximity warning in her ear. "Gonna take my world tonight," she hummed, "last stop, till you drop." Cheesy singers of Denon unite.

Or maybe Flint had a surprise.

"Gloria Mundi," that high galactic phrase she couldn't shake, the light wind of memories swept up around her craft, and not all of it from the damaged speeder hurtling toward Flint.

 

[Flint Grayson]

Glade
​

Flint whipped his speeder around to face the girl.

Now they both sat idly, revving forward a few inches ever so slightly as the thrusters tried to stay calm. It was going to be a giant game of Nuna. Who would veer out of the way first. Or would they just collide head on, smashing into one another. The agent's grip tightened on the steering wheel. He was not going to let her get away this time. She had caused enough damage as is. By the time they were done facing off, she would be in a pair of cuffs heading to the station for processing. The light of day would not shine on her for some time.

"I got you now."

His eyes widened as her vessel shot forward, accelerating rapidly towards him. So be it. He was willing to go down to in the name of protecting this city. Punching forward his throttle as well, the police cruiser raced ahead. Flint stayed in the middle of the road, trying to prevent the criminal from slipping by. Her craft veered to the right, but the agent remained. All he did was prepare to brace himself for impact. At the last second, a purple blur shot to the left. With barely any time to react, Flint pitched his cruiser in the same direction, colliding head on with her. The man was whipped forward in his seat, smacking his head off of his steering wheel.

"Shit!"

He now had a massive concussion. Blood started to drip from his forehead. This was not a good condition to be in to chase. But he just hoped that the other officers were nearby.

 

[Glade]

Tag: Flint Grayson​

Wrenching in her seat, she jolted back to reality. Metal clashed against metal, buckling the damaged frame, splintering glass, and sizzling across the dashboard. She threw her thin arms up to shield her eyes, the belt giving her whiplash as she was tossed against the controls and chair.

Her life flashed a million miles a second in crystal clarity: happy moments, hurtful times, and lonely days. One emotion filled her—longing and regret for not being with her mum.

"Damage is critical, Miss Natoline; fires across the secondary transmission line. Their proximity to the power cells requires immediate evacuation."

Flames licked the outside of the speeder, and sparks blew out the controls. She screamed, surprised inside, as the droid's voice went dead. Desperately, Natoline unclipped her belt and tried to move, but metal pinned her at the waist.

A trembling hand reached for the blurred dashboard photo—she'd never leave it behind. Her hands tugged at Fyor-Droid's memory core, but it was stuck tight, like her body.

"No, no sir," she pleaded.

Smoke and heat built up. She tasted blood on her lip, felt thin cuts from glass, and a dull pain in her stomach made her cough. Pulling with everything her little hands had, she choked out, "Not losin' you. Not again." Her focus shifted entirely to him; escape no longer mattered. She wasn't leaving without her oldest and only real friend—the only piece of him she had left. Slapping against the metal, she screamed for it to come loose as the fire burned all across the side of the speeder.

Time ticked down.