Everything that is, except gas. But it didn't need any.

It was Acid-powered.

Focused beyond being focused, her attunement with the car absolute, tripsy tore across the miles separating her from the lightning storm ahead. Her tactile senses were such that she could almost feel the curves and indentations of the asphalt, subtle and sharp, and find the most advantageous passage along the most dangerous routes. With slightly tighter maneuvering she might have been able to weave her car through the very raindrops themselves.

There was no time for grandstanding though. She had a job to do.

The miles peeled away beneath her tires as tripsy followed the path of Ven and fscked into Universe City. As fast as the intermediary's bodyguard drove, tripsy surpassed even her speed and was rapidly narrowing the distance between them. She was the single best driver amongst the Children, due solely to her uncanny reaction time. The dividing lines of William Penn Highway blurred into non-breaking shafts of white and yellow, leading the way to the tumult ahead. In her mind's eye, tripsy saw the path and every connecting point along the way.

She understood intuitively what fscked was doing; she was heading into the city to lose the guards. In the city streets she'd be afforded miles and miles of interwoven avenues to get lost in. Out here in the middle of nowhere, they were all open targets. There was nowhere to even think of hiding. In this case, the only defense one had was to keep moving - quickly.

Tripsy was actually as adept at navigating rural roads as urban ones. She was originally from the country and had been taught to drive the back acres of Ohio before she had even reached her teens. It was when she'd ventured out into the world years later that she began to see the big picture, how all the highways and byways were laced together. You could get anywhere from anywhere. Every destination was a starting point to somewhere else. She didn't always know where she was going, but she rarely got lost. And there was no getting lost really, as long as you kept rolling along.

She could laugh with abandon, but tripsy had been around the block a few times. Her spiritual odometer had a lot of mileage on it.

The clouds overhead rumbled and roared. The green lightning strikes came faster now, and the storm grew denser the closer the car got to the city. The clouds twisted and reconstituted themselves into the oddest of shapes - something specific was forming above, but it was hard to say just what.

tripsy's passenger, dressed in silken black embroidered with silver thread, was alert but relaxed. He'd been carted along on enough escapades to be perfectly used to her driving style, and actually thought quite highly of her skills. Of course, she was as much his chauffeur as fscked was Ven's, so he had no room to complain regardless, but as luck would have it she knew what she was doing. This girl knew how to book...and she was pretty easy on the eyes too.

The lightning struck again, bathing the interior of the car in its flash. The Secondaries could tell this was the Lords' doing. The shape of the clouds was now clear and the faces of Praga and his companions loomed from the skies above, folding in on one another and unleashing repeated splinters of electricity. There was a syncopated pattern to the strikes, and it called to the Children while exacting penance from their enemies.

tripsy found herself propelled even faster, drawn to the source of conflict. (Her passenger actually believed conflict followed her at a genetic level but had no scientific data to back up this theory.) There was a driving rhythm to the storm that was unmistakable. She found herself rocking slightly forward and back, riveted by some unknown beat. The Chevelle was now doing well over 110mph, and still it went faster. The car was propelled by the beat which only she could hear.

Until the CD player kicked in of its own accord and the strains of Pump My Body to the Top filled the interior of her car. The Lords laughed; they knew her favorite song and were inviting her to dance. The road was her dance floor and she gladly accepted the invitation.

Now they were close enough to see what was happening at the heart of the storm. Perdendosi attack fighters were falling from the sky, and hover pods were being blasted from the road, all in an attempt to clear a path for Ven and fscked. It fleetingly reminded her of something out of a Salvador Dali painting, so surreal and dreamlike it was. The remaining fighters banked out of the way of the storm, giving a wide berth to the highway. This put them on an immediate path toward the Secondaries, who would in seconds be entering the fray.

"I think this is where you come in," said tripsy. "Time to get your groove on, brutha!"

From beneath her newsboy cap, the country girl laughed at her companion - she laughed at him a lot - as he cocked a quizzical eyebrow. Then he reached down and pulled a six-shooter from the side-holster on his gunbelt and cocked it, then rolled down the passenger-side window.

Attentions focused on the StarSteed™ ahead, the Perdendosi troops were only now becoming aware of the Chevelle which raced into the battlezone. The attack fighters had scrambled to evade the freak storm occurrence and weren't able to contribute much to the offense. Only one had stayed behind to monitor the advance of the Steed. Now the guardsmen relayed back to the Command Station that a second vehicle, traveling at an even higher rate of speed was on the same path toward the city.

There was no response from the Station. The storm was interfering with their communication signals and it was up to their team leader to initiate a plan. His response was immediate: destroy it. The insurgents were to be shown absolutely no mercy. The fighters locked on target and fired numerous rounds of missiles at the projectile of a car.

The response from the Children was equally as immediate: tripsy's driver's glove-covered hands tightened on the steering wheel and smoothly guided the Chevelle around the projectiles. She unconsciously channeled yet more Acid through her totem, increasing its speed and maneuverability to ever higher degrees. There was no one alive her driving acumen was comparable to; Earnhardt Junior would have been left speechless in her dust.

She however was nowhere near close to speechless. A litany of curse words flew from her mouth and she flipped the fighters the bird. If her expletives had been explosives, there wouldn't have been a bit of opposition left airborne.

Meanwhile the passenger took aim with his pistol and fired an Acid-bullet at the lead fighter, reducing it to earthbound debris in a flash. He performed this feat another five times without a single shot wasted until there was only one fighter left, then brought his arm back inside the car. The last star fighter was now in pursuit of them.

"How's about a kiss for good luck?" asked the passenger, passing the gun to his other hand, closer to tripsy's face. She turned her head ever so slightly to glance at him, puckered her lips and blew a kiss at the barrel. The pistol now had inspiration and all the ammo it needed.

With one last shot the sky became clear. tripsy continued to speed up.

fscked and Ven were too far ahead to notice them, but the Secondaries were now speeding through the wreckage of the hover pods that had been laid waste to moments before. The Lords and their Children had done thorough work, reducing eight attack fighters and twenty hover pods to ash and scrap metal in the space of under five minutes. tripsy and her passenger were impressed, but had no time to sightsee. They both possessed enhanced vision sharp enough to see the Steed was forging ahead in the direction of the Bethedger Bridge. The skies were clearing and the storm dissipated; chances were they would still need back-up.

Ambient Acid and their revved-up state made the Secondaries' eyes glow. The Chevelle blistered the highway and the odometer screamed past 120mph as tripsy pressed forward, trying to catch up to fscked and Ven. It was now just past quarter-to-twelve. Ahead lay the Bethedger's Bridge, and then the Liberty Tubes, and from there a short hop into Universe City. Unobstructed and at their current rate of speed, they could be in the city in under five minutes.

However there was an obstruction. tripsy could sense it like a boulder on the road ahead on the far side of the bridge, and her passenger saw it at about the same time. It was minute, but grew larger by the second - a blockade of ten heavy assault roamers, barring the way for the Steed. The lead car was still far enough ahead not to have noticed the other approaching in its wake. If fscked slowed down, the drivers could try to make it across together, presenting dual targets that might confuse the occupants.

They were about to try and hail the Steed when an explosion roughly mid-way between it and the assault roamers took out part of the right side of the bridge. There was a brilliant fireball that caused a large section of railing to fall away, and initially, the Secondaries assumed the guard had mounted a first strike. But that wasn't it at all. The passenger could see there was no way a round at that range would have been so far off, no matter which side had fired it. Even as a warning shot, it made no sense.

The guards then did let rip with a volley of missiles. tripsy strained to catch up to the intermediary and his bodyguard, then watched in disbelief as the Steed swerved to the right and dove through the hole in the railing. The Secondaries' glowing eyes went wide as they watched the car fall.

"Oh my God," said the passenger. "Why did she...?"

Then he remembered conversations he'd had with fscked on the CoA site when she'd purchased her car. He'd passed the information along to tripsy, who had a surprisingly vast database of knowledge at her disposal. She sometimes came across as a little flaky, but it was all a cover. She knew things. And she knew that a StarSteed™ was a great deal for its cost; you couldn't beat that underwater driving option.

"That was smart," she said, watching the car break the surface of the river below. "They should be okay now."

"'Til the guards catch up to them on the other side," said the passenger. Even now a lone attack ship swept down to survey the water. It was just out of range of his guns, far enough away to evade a shot. "They'll probably regroup and wait for them over there," he said, pointing to the West Shore.

"Not if we don't give them the chance," said the driver. She locked her focus on the blockade ahead, which had turned to fall back and regroup at Sinclair's direction and still wasn't aware of their approach. "Buckle your seatbelt," she said, to which the man obliged.

A stylish thick-heeled boot was pressed against the gas pedal, and tripsy opened up the throttle. The vehicle now throbbed with Acid, strong enough to instantly evaporate any rainwater that dared to make contact with its shell. Fueled by the petite woman's own energy reserves, the car rocketed forward, pushing past 130mph.

140.

160. And climbing.

Normally, the sudden stress on the car would have caused it to under-perform, but the Acid resolved this too. It permeated every molecule of the vehicle, strengthening the metals, glasses and plastics just as it did the Children. Organic and inorganic matter was all bound to the same universal source, and the automobile was this woman's totem, an extension of her powers and abilities. As her resolve to assist Ven and fscked increased, she channeled more and more Acid, like a solar cell, becoming more powerful with the firing of every cylinder. The car in turn became more powerful, so much that the passenger in black could feel the groundswell of energies around him.

He didn't even bat an eye when he watched the tail guards finally notice the Chevelle, which was now practically on top of them. They ratcheted firearms and pulsar cannons at the vehicle and fired. Most of the ammunition was either deflected or exploded upon impact, causing virtually no damage. The same would not hold true of their own assault roamers.

Like a speeding bullet, tripsy sent her car rocketing through the enemy roamers, igniting their fuel housings along the way. Guards ran for cover as eruption followed eruption in the lane coming off the bridge. She'd dismantled three roamers in her first pass and spun around to face the remaining seven down. A rambunctious laugh escaped her lips. The passenger could see she was having fun.

It took the guards a moment to recompose themselves. She took advantage of the confusion to reach over and open the glove compartment. It was time for a cigarette.

A hail of ammunition was directed at the Children, and the back wheels of the Chevelle spun manically before launching the car at their adversaries. What followed was a demolition derby of titanic proportions along the length of Harshfield Boulevard. tripsy's car suffered not a single scratch, but the roamers were utterly destroyed. The entire time, she bubbled with laughter. The passenger wasn't exactly worried, but even he couldn't have foreseen how much his friend would enjoy the calamity. He braced himself against the inside frame with his arms and legs and stared incredulously at the destruction. It was happening so fast he didn't even have time to think about getting off a shot or two at the guards.

And then it was over. The woman cruised victoriously through the aftermath of the guards' defeat, shouting and exclaiming her joy. The man sat staring at her, wide-eyed in shell-shock.

She took a drag of her cigarette and slapped him on the shoulder, further amused by his confusion. "Come on!" she said. "You know that was fun! Whoo!" She hit the horn, bleating out a rebellious celebration.

"I have one big rule when I ride along with someone," said the man. "'Please don't kill the cute black guy in the passenger seat!'"

"Well you're not dead, so I guess I obeyed the rules!" she said. Nothing was harshing her buzz. This country girl knew how to make it in the big city just fine.

An explosion even louder than the ones tripsy had just caused clapped through the streets of the West End, from the sound of it, up on Perseverance Way. This was confirmed by a rising mushroom of dark fire from that direction. There was little doubt that it had something to do with Ven and fscked. Maybe more troops had been deployed. Whatever the problem, the Secondaries were probably their first line of defense now.

The driver exhaled a puff of smoke and her passenger waved a hand to disperse the fumes. He'd have to remember to give her a carton of those filament-laced cigarettes he picked-up in the Deltar'rI Sector a while back. These Marloboros were just disgusting.

The Chevelle sped up and arced around a corner in the direction of the blast. Genetically attracted to the sounds of entropy (although this was still only a theory), tripsy was ready for as much as the Perdendosi could dish out. Plus some.

IT WASN'T HARD tracking down where Ven and fscked were. All they had to do was keep following the path of destruction.

The wreckage from the collision of the StarSteed™ and the attack fighter still smoldered in the middle of the road, while fresher debris littered the block around it. There was so much in fact that any arriving vehicles wouldn't be able to pass. At this hour, 11:58pm, that wasn't an issue. Only two vehicles approached the scene, each from separate ends of the thoroughfare. One was a Perdendosi guard carrier; the other was tripsy's Chevelle.

Lights blinked out in the buildings above, suggesting there had been numerous witnesses to whatever had just taken place. The Secondaries pulled to a stop and watched as fifteen Omega Supreme high guards disembarked and hustled down a side street. Two guards remained, one manning the controls and the other maintaining communications with the Securities building and the arriving guards. He stood at the perimeter of the carrier, a particle-fission rifle in hand.

tripsy surveyed the landscape. In her mind she was able to imagine the ferocity of the fight that had taken place here. She could see the remains of the Steed, still billowing smoke down the block. Fires burned in patches everywhere. Ven and fscked had somehow made it through and escaped, which was why the guards were here now searching. They were okay for the time being.

"They're in one of the alleys," she said to her passenger.

"Yeah," he said, stretching himself to loosen up. He studied the rifle-wielding guard, unimpressed.

"Well I can't drive down there after them. It's too small."

"I know," he said. He leaned his neck from side to side and there was a tiny pop of the joints. He shook his hair loose from the disheveled ponytail he had it in and ran a hand through it for good measure. Long digits were flexed and wiggled and the man pulled on a pair of fingerless gloves. He reached down to the floor of the car and dusted off his boots which were tipped with silver. Lastly he double-checked the buckle of his holster then opened the door and stepped out.

"You want me to come with you?" she asked, looking at him with genuine concern. It was a perfunctory question, met with an expected dismayed look. He was as capable of taking care of himself as she was - he just had a different means of channeling the Acid.

"Uh, I think I'll be fine," said the man in black and silver in an assured yet slightly sarcastic manner, and turned to walk away.

The guards at the carrier took notice and called to the man. The one on foot leveled his rifle at the human, and when he still didn't halt fired directly at him. The man performed a quick draw of one of his pistols and intercepted the discharge with one of his own: a bright jade Acid-bullet that cut it short in mid-air.

The guards had superior training but were unprepared for what they'd witnessed or what came next. The man fired another shot at the ground that bounced up and knocked the rifle from the guard's hands. Before it landed, he fired three more shots in rapid succession, shattering the weapon from barrel to stock.

He looked back at the driver and said, "Give me a minute and this'll be over with. Trust me."

He faced the guards again, never breaking stride, and fired two more times. These shots hit the guards squarely in their chests, rendering them comatose. The exchange had happened so quickly and silently the guards in the alleyway were unaware of what was happening and who was coming to challenge them.

The man's stride turned into a swagger now. There was a story he'd read years ago about how Norma Jeane Mortenson was once out in public with a friend, who was amazed that no one had noticed who she was. Mortenson, who wore no disguise, said it was because she hadn't turned on her celebrity identity. She spoke of it like one would discuss turning on a light switch, then she shifted in her seat and made an adjustment, perceptible more inwardly than outwardly. As soon as she did, fans began approaching, attracted by the full wattage of her star power. It was evident to anyone present that this was Marilyn Monroe.

Now tripsy watched from the driver's seat of her car as her friend's star power increased in wattage with his every step. Soon enough the Perdendosi would be blinded by who he was - but she doubted they would want an autograph. And there was no sense in puffing his ego up any more than it was right now.

He prepared to step into the alleyway and looked back at her one last time. Their affection was mutual. "Meet us here, Puddin'-Pop. If I'm not back in a minute, take off. We'll hook up somewhere else." Then he smiled his celebrity smile, which made her do the same. "But trust me - this'll be over in sixty seconds. Go ahead; time me."

With a six-shooter on each hip, the man walked into the alleyway with the first peal of the Perseverance Way clock ringing in Midnight at his heels. Double-barreled trouble was heading in on silver-tipped boots.

With her 6.0 engine idling and ready to peel out, tripsy reached over to the glove compartment and found her cigarettes. She lit up and listened as the bells tolled and the second hand swept in the revolution of a new day.

Help was on the way...