Full Throttle

Roland hurtled down the main road in the heavy truck, its engine roaring far into the woods on either side. People along the way tried to stop him, but every attempt failed.

Nobody dared collide with a massive beast barreling along at that speed. A group of thugs tried throwing things to stop the truck, but with it moving so fast, they couldn't pull it off.

"Dammit, we took the wrong road! This leads out of Gotham City!" Jason clung to the door. The passenger seat belt was broken, and he'd shattered the window while stealing the truck. He was terrified of being thrown out.

"Exactly! This is my escape route!" Roland wrenched the steering wheel around, taking a sharp turn.

Jason felt his side of the truck lift off the ground. Realizing they'd nearly tipped over, he went deathly pale. "Take it easy!"

"Trust my driving!" Roland floored the accelerator. "Look, we've already left them behind!"

"Someone's catching up!" Jason watched the side mirror as a convertible sports car with a garish paint job raced toward them. A young man with green hair was behind the wheel.

Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, the man grabbed a rifle from the passenger seat with the other and fired at the truck's tires.

With an explosive bang, one side of the truck jolted upward, giving both of them a fright.

"Shit!" Roland cursed, fighting the steering wheel to keep the truck from careening off the road.

Once the truck had steadied a little, Roland snatched up a beer bottle beside the driver's seat and hurled it backward. It struck the sports car's driver squarely in the head, knocking him unconscious.

Don't ask why there was a beer bottle beside the truck's driver's seat. As far as Roland was concerned, the absence of syringes meant the driver was already taking safety pretty seriously.

"We blew a tire. Can we still drive?"

"It's fine. This truck has dual rear tires. Only one blew, and the other is still intact, so we can drive normally for now," Roland said. "But we can't go far. We'll have to find somewhere to stop."

"Blüdhaven is twenty miles ahead. We can go there."

"How far is that? Fucking imperial units!" Roland swore.

"Less than forty kilometers. Can we make it?"

"We should just about manage." Roland thought for a moment. "Blüdhaven... that sounds familiar..."

"It's a small city. I hear it's much safer than Gotham City, but there are a lot fewer chances to make money," Jason said. "Sometimes you see people from Blüdhaven coming to Gotham City to scrape out a living."

"I see." Roland nodded. "Sounds like life moves at a slower pace there?"

"Yeah."

No sooner had Jason said that than a bald, muscular man shouted, "This is a robbery!" and charged in front of Roland's truck.

"Fuck!" Startled into swearing, Roland instinctively hit the brakes.

But the truck was heavy and carried a lot of momentum. The burly man had appeared too suddenly, leaving nowhere near enough distance to stop.

The brake pads let out a metallic screech, but the truck barely slowed before sending the bald, muscular man flying.

"Didn't he say this was a robbery? Why does this look more like an insurance scam...? This guy is hardcore." Roland didn't dare keep braking. With one tire already blown, he was afraid another hard stop would actually overturn the truck.

The truck rolled over the fallen man and traveled another hundred meters or so before coming to a stop.

"He has to be dead, right?" Roland climbed out and started walking back.

"Forget a person. Even an elephant wouldn't survive getting hit like that, would it?" Jason got out too. "But he was trying to rob us, so this should count as self-defense..."

"Who'd believe that? I'd be better off telling them I just ran him over on the road," Roland said. "Then I can trot out the whole routine: 'He was in my blind spot,' 'Apparently he came out for a stroll on the highway,' 'I thought it was a speed bump,' 'Take it up with the insurance company,' 'We're all just trying our hardest to get by'..."

"Did you used to drive trucks?" Jason asked curiously.

"No."

"Then how are you so good at this?"

"I've seen plenty of it," Roland said. "You can find anything online, can't you?"

"What the hell do you watch online...? Wait." Jason suddenly jolted. "That guy... I think he's still moving?"

"No way." Roland shook his head. "Who could survive a hit like that?"

"No, he really is moving!" Jason's jaw dropped. "What kind of creature is he?"

Then something even more unbelievable happened. The bald, burly man on the ground stood up and staggered toward them.

As he walked, he waved an arm whose bone had pierced through the flesh. The exposed white bone was terrifying.

"...Rob... robbery..."

"What the hell kind of monster is that?" Jason felt as though he was losing his mind.

"Forget him. Looks like this monster won't die, and he isn't all that bright. Let's just leave," Roland said after a moment's thought. "If the police show up, we'll have a hard time explaining this."

The two hurried back into the truck, started it up, and drove off.

Although the bald man behind them had extraordinary vitality, he wasn't fast enough to catch the truck. His figure soon disappeared from the rearview mirror.

"Okay, looks like the rumors aren't true. Blüdhaven isn't as safe as people say."

"It's so close to Gotham City. How safe could it possibly be?" Roland said. "Besides, I just remembered why this place sounded familiar. There's a superhero based here."

"A superhero? Who?"

"Dick Grayson, the Original Robin. His current codename is Nightwing."

"Sounds like a brand of sanitary pads." Jason curled his lip. For some reason, hearing Roland mention Dick Grayson instinctively rubbed him the wrong way.

"You really know a lot about some weird subjects." Roland's mouth twitched. "You even know about sanitary pads, and somehow you managed to connect them to Nightwing."

"I learned it from you."

"Still, I wouldn't recommend saying that to his face. He might beat you up."

"Huh? Am I really that weak?" Jason had learned quite a few Bajiquan techniques from Roland over the past several days. He was a quick learner with a strong grasp of the moves, and he had already reached the point where he could take on three or four unarmed thugs.

"...He's Batman's student, proficient in all kinds of fighting techniques. And supposedly his physical fitness, stamina, speed, intelligence, reflexes, and agility are all at the peak of human ability." Roland spread his hands. "I wouldn't have much trouble fighting him, but you? Forget it."

"You're driving! Quit talking with your hands!" Seeing Roland spread his hands nearly scared the soul out of Jason.