Lemon Tarts Are Preferred, Sir

My ears ring painfully, lips forming a string of curses purely out of habit; not like I can hear them, anyways. I become aware of the obnoxious, bumpy embrace the right wheels were making with the edge of the road and jerk the steering wheel to the left. My mind's come over all foggy, each useful thought struggling to push its way to the front of the virtually worthless crowd. Lips curling into a scowl of disgust, I watch the mini-explosion of dirt and pebbles bloom right behind the Mercede's back left wheel. "Damn it, Khrys!"

"Shut up," she snaps, her voice high and wheezy. Both of our breaths come too heavy and too fast; practicing in a closed course was one thing, but this...

This was deadly.

Reloading with a methodical set of clinks, metallic grinds, and several clicks, she steadies her rifle and presses her cheek against its spine. A thought occurs to me, and I reach over, snatching her glasses away from her eyes. The scope had UV protection built in, and if she was positioning herself correctly then the glare shouldn't affect her. She gives me an irritable glance, a growl forming deep in her throat. "They'll be able to see my face clearer, asshole."

"More motivation to take him out, Khrys." I hiss out between clenched teeth. Slivers of pain shot up my gums, my teeth quivering against the pressure. I hear her breath hitch even over the shrieks of the rushing wind; her finger twitches on the trigger, goes to tighten, then releases again. 

Returning my gaze to the road, I slam the accelerator to the floor, my thoughts racing far ahead of my ability to process and understand. There was no way in hell Yang didn't know he'd just been shot at. First of all, his expensive black car was bobbing and weaving in practiced defensive motions. He'd cut into oncoming traffic lanes--though, strangely enough, there we no other vehicles on the highway save ours and his--then make an abrupt dive into the middle lane of our side. There wasn't an exit for another twenty miles, if I was remembering the map correctly. He sure as hell couldn't stop; Khrys would pierce him with a bullet just as easily as she'd put in studded earrings after getting out of the shower. I guess that meant his master plan was to either fight back or flee like a madman.

Shrugging mostly to myself, I decide that if he hasn't tried to fill our windshield with led, then he's probably unarmed. Then another thought occurs to me. This man had been trained by Yen; she'd trusted him with the darker side to her business. He was once her right hand, her eyes and ears, and her iron fist. 

 "Don't take the shot," I shout suddenly, throat thick and raw from the sharp bursts of air and the lack of proper breathing techniques. I wasn't built for this shit.

"Are you kidding me?!" Khrys shrieks, whipping her head up to stare daggers right into my peripheral. "We have the shot!"

No. Something's not right. "His driving... something's off, Khrys,"

"Yeah. Him. I'm taking the damned shot," she spits out bitterly, thin fingers clutching the weapon till her knuckles turned ghastly white. The van hits a pothole, jogging my mind from the thick, surreal aura that had been draped over the situation. As Khrys readjusted herself in her seat, her pale grey eyes focused on the car through the scope. The van hits eighty miles per hour as the wheels jar against a pothole, nearly ejecting Khrys out the window. 

Minivans weren't made for this shit, either.

We'd have to either take Yang out or let him go. If this kept up, we'd end up flipping the vehicle. Worst case scenario, we'd lose consciousness, and Yang could easily come back to the crash site and finish us off.

I shiver violently at the thought, gasping for breath. My lungs were tight as my mind--quite unhelpfully--considered all of the possible consequences of failing. Yen had strongly suggested in her ever-subtle way that this was a vitally important task. 

"Yang's usefulness no longer outweighs his counterproductive qualities. I have no patience for both greed and insolence," she had said, thin lips curled into a devious smile. I still remembered those hooded eyes, chin lifted and teeth separated to create a look of pure and utter confidence. "I trust you understand the consequences of your future actions,"

I shiver again, the fear enough to momentarily blind me. Teeth chattering, I grip the steering wheel. "God damn swerving psycho," Khrys mutters under her breath, her words carried by the pounding wind. She makes a sharp hissing noise, unable to lock on to the weaving Mercedes. 

The force of the gusts through the open window were shoving the van to the left, making it harder and harder to steer straight. Despite my own mental warnings, I continue to press down on the accelerator. At this point, I doubt my foot would allow me to let go. The fear of failing Yen had surpassed my fear of dying; I didn't have time to wonder how serious of a realization this was. 

As my eyes follow the sleek black car to the left, his white-rimmed wheels leaving pitch black scars on the road's surface, my vision continues to shift. I scan the horizon, seeing only towering storm clouds in the distance. The grey plumes seemed to make the plains cower beneath them, grasses and dying bushes bowing against the fierce winds that came with open ground. The humidity was unbearable, even going this fast. 

As my eyes finally snap down to my rearview, the Mercedes suddenly makes a violent dive for the far right lane. It catches my eyes, and--

Ah. Well... shit.

My arm lunges out instinctively towards Khrys, slamming her back into her seat and protecting her from lurching forward as I slam the break. Dirt and pebbles from the road and kicked up at our windows by the sudden force, leaving small dents in the exterior. "Shit!" She chokes, hands flailing for something to grab on to. Her panicked mind finally settles on her high-heeled foot; she slams the heel against the dash, left hand gripping my arm over her chest. She screams when we hit a pothole, our front and back right wheels lifting inches up off the ground before slamming back again.

Our tires wail in agony, the minivan skidding left and right as the wheels struggle to slow the speeding behemoth. Khrys's rifle, now unsupported by its owner's hands, jerks forward on the stand, the hinges snapping. I have to lock my elbows, keeping my arm straight to keep myself from swinging forward and smashing my chin against the steering wheel.

Finally, in a plume of acrid smoke that blooms from our furious rear wheels, we come to a stop in the middle of the road. The Mercedes, now a hundred yards in front of us, straightens and drives arrow-straight along the blistering roadway. 

For a moment, we simply breathe, Khrys's right hand reaching up habitually to grip the stock of her teetering gun. The rifle had swiveled sharply on its stand during our abrupt stop, smashing the scope against the upper rim of the door. She didn't vocalize her anger at the damages, however. Instead, her fingers found my hand, which was still squeezing her tightly against the seat. She stroked the back of my wrist, mouth agape and eyes wide as the fear subsided.

I, for one, couldn't breathe. The panic in my chest had reached monumental levels, making it hard to see, think, or process information. It was a dangerous state to be in, given the circumstances. "Are you alright?" I cough out, unable to force my voice above a raspy whisper. 

"Y-Yeah," she exhales slowly, releasing my hand to run her fingers through her tangled hair. Then her now-calmed mind notices her crushed scope once more. "God damn it, Em!"

I wince, a steady headache beginning to form in the back of my head. It was always like this when the stress got bad, making for poor judgement and performance. Definitely not a pleasant sensation. "That wasn't our guy," I angle my head towards her, noticing a sharp pain in my neck. Shit. Hopefully I didn't sprain it.

Khrys sputters, eyes searching my face for answers. When the clouds break and a ray of sun slams into her vision, she curses, snatching her glasses from the center console. I watch her push them up the bridge of her pert nose as her lips curl into a snarl."What the hell?!" Were the three words she eventually decided on. 

I shrug, pressing the accelerator gently. The minivan bumps and squeals to the side of the road. Once I'm sure it's safely parked, I turn on the air conditioning and let it idle. We'd probably permanently damaged this particular set of tires... that'd be a pain to fix. Even worse to explain to the mechanic. "Rifle or no, he didn't have to swerve like that. He left his license plate unprotected. There were no other cars on the road. He was way too good of a driver. He happened to pull out of the motel just as we were coming up on it. This happened right as you got your rifle positioned."

"And...?" Khrys, reaching for her lipgloss, frowned irritably at me. She applied the lipstick, using the rearview mirror to check the smudges. I think she found comfort in the ritualistic process of repeatedly refreshing her makeup; whatever tickled her fancy, I suppose.

"He wanted our eyes up front, Khrys," with that, her head whips around to look at the road behind us. I don't bother, knowing that whatever the Mercedes had been distracting us from was long gone. "The windows had a reddish tint; Yang hated red. And yeah, that could've been a simple cosmetic mishap, but..." I trail off, leaving her to settle back in her seat and piece it together.

Her eyes widen when she figures it out. "He was luring us,"

"Waiting for us, probably. I mean, come on. Your bluetooth pings him as we're leaving a gas station? And he's here now, instead of fifty miles south?" I groan, rubbing my temple in frustration. We weren't trained enough for this. Panic and adrenaline had propelled us right into a potential ambush. "That was a decoy."

"But for what?" She mumbles, crossing her arms over her chest as an ice-cold gust of wind claws at the plains. Absently, I roll the windows up, turning the AC down a few notches. She picks at her nails, legs now crossed in that professional way she always managed. Even during a crisis, it was hard not to admire those thighs... God bless yoga. "And why is the road so damned empty? It's one in the afternoon, and on a Saturday."

"Shit," I slam the accelerator, spinning the steering wheel and forcing the van into a U-turn. 

"Em, what the bloody hell?! I'm not letting you drive anymore!" Khrys whines, grabbing the dash to hold herself upright. 

"Yang blackmailed Yen, Khrys. He needed a plan to fall back on if she refused to tolerate the demands; there aren't many people who could shield him from that..." I search for a strong enough word, coming up empty. "The road's clear for a reason,"

"You think he pulled the FBI into this?!" She pales, terror replacing her agitation in one swift blow. Instantly, she's unfastening her rifle's stand from the door, dismembering the weapon and packing it away with practiced speed. "He wouldn't dare. Her influence reaches far enough to--"

Beep-bu-deep. Beep-bu-deep.

"What the hell is that?" I sniff, checking the speedometer to make sure I was, in fact, going 55 mph as the speed limit dictated. Then my eyes shift to the center console, where Khrys was tenderly picking up her ringing phone. We both stare at the symbol that had appeared above the caller's number with a certain amount of anxiety. Khrys's thumb hovered over the smartphone, teeth grazing her lower lip as she considered. "Don't answer it." I say, mostly out of self-preservation. One look at at the menacing black-and-silver dragon, it's body curled into the infinity symbol, was enough to make your blood run cold. 

With that, the minivans far-newer radio system comes to life. The blue lights behind the buttons flash several times, speakers blaring with static loud enough to force us to cover our ears. For the second time in less than ten minutes, I'm slamming on the breaks, using my knees to turn the steering wheel. As we pull over, a steady and frantic beeping starts up. 

"Shit! What did you do?!" I think I hear Khrys shout over the high-pitched warbling shriek that was quickly rising in volume behind the static and mechanical beeping. My head felt as if it were about to explode with the pressure. Each speaker vibrated loudly from the sheer intensity of the noise, every beep rattling the seats and doors like a dubstep song played through subwoofers. My ears thrummed with a pain so concentrated, I was worried the sound had blown my eardrums.

I shake my head, palms squeezed tightly against my ears. In desperation, I lean over and use my elbow to click down on the window switch. It doesn't respond. Mashing my elbow against it again and again doesn't change that; it only gives my a nasty bruise. "God damn it!" Why wasn't it working?! It's not like our battery was dead; the radio was still going! "Shit!"

I briefly consider bashing out the windows. The need for relief from the overwhelming, pulsating rolls of sound had become all-consuming. Another, fainter sound breaks above the waves of static, catching my attention. Turning towards it, I see Khrys screaming--though, apart from her initial shout, I couldn't hear her voice--tears streaming down her face as she crumped. Her head falls into her lap, palms pressed so tightly against her skull that her cheeks puffed out and her hands turned white. I feel her pain; the vibrations from the speakers seem to confuse my heart, each thump causing my body to miss a beat. 

Falling over in my seat, I position myself so that my feet are against the driver's side window, my back on the center console armrest. Steadying myself, I tuck in my feet and get ready to break the window. 

Abruptly, all noise ceases.

"That won't be necessary, Emelia," A woman's voice, stern, cold, and mildly amused breaks through the tortured speakers. 

I pause, legs faltering midair. Slowly, Khrys and I release our hands from our ears, my headache unbearably agonizing. "Yen," Khrys gasps, the word laced with pain and realization.

My stomach drops, lungs feeling constrained as I suck in an unsatisfying breath. "You hacked us--"

"Do not ever attempt to ignore me again." Yen growls, her tone naturally sensual. The undertones of warning, however, were impossible to miss. "You've failed your objective; even if Yang has not been informed of your presence, I know. Return home immediately."

"But we can still--" Khrys starts, but Yen interrupts.

"Now."