Marcus and I even go to the same barber, although I have a slightly better haircut.
Deadblood gunned the engine hard, easily catching up with the Driller’s tank. It might be speedy for it’s size, but there was no way it could outrun a motorcycle.
The Driller swerved to the left suddenly, trying to knock into the bike, but failing. Deadblood easily manevered the bike out of it’s path, and settled on it’s left flank.
The Driller tried again to ram the bike, and after failing again settled for speeding up. There was no point in opening fire, the tank’s armor was made to withstand the pressure of thousands of pounds of earth pressing against it. A few bullet weren’t going to pierce it, no matter how well placed they were.
Just when Deadblood and Sheri thought he was just going to keep on going until he ran out of fuel there on the highway and force them to fight their way into the tank, he turned off suddenly and headed full speed in the direction of the junkyard that sat on the edge of town.
Deadblood roared after him, the Driller lumbering to an errratic stop in the junkyard, popping the hatch and pointing his rifle out towards them.
“Don’t come any fucking closer!” He shouted from inside the tank, as Deadblood rolled up. Deadblood stopped the bike, Desert Eagle up and ready.
“It’s over, Driller. You’re done.” Deadblood said, training his gun on the few inches exposed by the hatch.
“I don’t think so. Those banks were just the beginning,” The Driller replied with a nervous laugh. “The name of Jeffery Lorrin Williams will live on.” He opened fire, spraying bullets erratically. Sheri rolled off the bike, joining Deadblood on the ground to escape the hail of poorly aimed bullets.
“Fucking crazy asshole!” She shouted, ripping the assualt rifle from his hands mentally, flinging it far out of his reach.
Unarmed, he immediately tried to close the hatch only for her to force it all the way back and hold it. Deadblood scrambled up the side of the tank gun trained on the man inside.
“Get out. Come on, you’re done here. Sheri, call the cops, and tell them we have the Driller right here, ready and waiting for them.
Sheri reached for her phone, when the Driller suddenly dove for the control panel. Sending the Drill roaring to life agan, he charged Sheri, Deadblood still clinging to the hatch opening.
She cursed, jumping out of the way as the machine suddenly began to angle down, the drill whirring menacingly.
“Deadblood!” She shouted “He’s trying to go under!” He swung inside the cockpit, delivering a boot hard to the Driller’s face. He cursed, letting go of the controls as Deadblood followed with a solid punch to the throat. He dropped, groaning, as Deadblood stooped beside him.
“I said you’re done. Now. Get up and get out, or I’ll haul you out of here myself.”
