“Bang—!” The Herrera slammed onto the roof of a residential house.
Dust billowed, and roof tiles shattered in all directions.
The corrugated iron canopy was crushed into a massive dent as the entire roof shook violently.
On the roof, a family of three was sitting around a barbecue grill.
The tank-top-wearing husband held a pair of grill tongs, his wife froze with a drink cup halfway in midair, and their seven- or eight-year-old son was mid-chew.
Watching this iron beast fall from the sky, all three opened their mouths in unison.
*You can drive like this in Night City?* They weren’t the only ones stunned; the 6th Street gang members were equally dumbfounded.
The pursuing off-road vehicles slammed on their brakes in unison.
The man with sunglasses took them off, his jaw dropped wide enough to fit a fist.
“Crap!” Jake Quinn didn’t have time to care about the crowd’s shock.
He slammed on the accelerator.
Under the owner’s terrified and heartbroken gaze, the Herrera roared off the other side of the roof!
“Bang!” Another deafening crash.
The car’s front end smashed through the rooftop water tank of a low-rise building, showering plastic shards everywhere.
Then a third building, a fourth…
Like a mad bull, accompanied by tearing metal and screeching residents, the Herrera rampaged across the rooftops of the residential district.
Until a highway appeared ahead.
Leaping off the last roof, all four wheels slammed onto the asphalt with a heavy thud.
The chassis shook violently before stabilizing and surging forward.
The battered Herrera was nearly totaled after this ordeal.
White, acrid-smelling smoke billowed from the front engine bay.
With his vast gaming experience, Jake Quinn knew immediately: *It’s about to explode!* He quickly abandoned the car.
Instead of rushing to jack another one, he turned back to look toward 6th Street.
The two 6th Street off-road vehicles remained parked by the broken guardrail, making no further moves.
*They stopped chasing?* A heavy weight lifted from David’s heart.
Although they had driven onto people’s roofs, at least they survived.
While they weren’t pursuing, time to keep running!
Jack a car, dive into the Badlands—in that vast expanse, who could ever track him down?
David wanted to run, but Jake Quinn had no intention of ending things here.
The reason 6th Street was hunting them was obvious: because he had killed their men under the overpass this morning.
Could he leave these guys alive?
David’s apartment was in Santo Domingo; if 6th Street didn’t die, David wouldn’t be able to sleep!
Jake wouldn’t even be able to log off peacefully—who knew when his save file might get erased?
So instead of continuing to flee, Jake Quinn raised the Ajax assault rifle once again.
…
On the highway, the sunglasses-wearing man leaned out the window, staring at the smoking Herrera in the distance, then turned to the bald leader beside him.
“Boss, still chasing?” He swallowed, his former bravado gone.
“Feels like we won’t catch him…” The bald man said nothing.
He stared at the figure crawling out of the wrecked car, his brow tightly furrowed.
*This kid’s skills are too good.* Escaping the clinic, getting ambushed front and back yet killing two men in return, and now performing a rooftop stunt to break away…
This wasn’t something a normal street kid could pull off.
Pursuing any further felt like asking for trouble.
“Maybe…” The bald leader wanted to cut his losses and reconsider later.
Once they figured out the kid’s background, revenge wouldn’t be too late.
But before the words could leave his mouth— “Swoosh!” A bullet cut through the air and struck him dead in the chest.
The bald man let out a muffled grunt.
His knees slammed onto the ground, blood spurting from the entry wound and instantly soaking his leather jacket.
“Boss!” The sunglasses-wearing man turned pale and rushed over to support him.
“Boss!
How are you?!” The bald leader looked down at the bloody hole in his chest, then looked into the distance.
Blue smoke wisped from the barrel of the Ajax in David’s hands.
“Son of a bitch!” Shivering from the excruciating pain, the bald man squeezed out through gritted teeth: “Kill him for me!!!” “Got it!” The man with sunglasses grabbed a submachine gun and yelled grimly at his subordinates, “Everyone, chase!
Kill that little bastard!” The engines of both off-road vehicles roared in unison, lunging toward David like a pair of rabid dogs.
Jake Quinn was extremely satisfied with 6th Street’s reaction.
“Time to move.” He was going to kill them all, but not right now.
He had a clear target.
A grass-green Thorton Galena, rugged and durable, was parked by the curb.
Jake walked over, yanked the driver’s door open, pulled the driver out, and delivered two swift punches before taking ownership of the vehicle.
Before today, David couldn’t even imagine doing something like this.
But now, he was actually getting used to it.
The devil’s corrupting influence was truly terrifying!
“Vroom!” David’s foot floored the accelerator, speeding toward Watson North.
The Galena flew along the highway.
From a distance, the two off-roaders trailed like unshakeable shadows.
As time passed, the Galena drove into Watson.
Outside the window, the architecture began to shift from abandoned factories and storage yards to dense, low-rise apartment blocks and glaring neon signs.
Driving along, Jake glanced at the mini-map in the top right corner.
He had been actively avoiding NCPD patrols along the way, and the wanted star finally flickered a few times before disappearing.
“Wanted level clear,” Jake muttered.
“Took kind of long…” Internally, David rolled his eyes.
*You were actually worried about that?* Still, knowing the NCPD had called off the search brought him considerable relief.
David stared into the rearview mirror.
Now only this trouble remained…
The two stars-and-stripes-painted off-road vehicles were still biting close, a few hundred meters behind like starved wolves.
In truth, the lunatic had several chances to shake them off during the drive.
But whenever the gap widened, he would intentionally ease off the gas, slowing the Galena down until the 6th Street pursuers caught up before speeding away again.
*He’s baiting them.* David realized it.
What he couldn’t understand was why this guy didn’t just fight them directly.
Where was he trying to lead 6th Street?
What was in Watson North?
David wasn’t the only one who realized it—6th Street figured it out too.
“Damn it, this kid is playing us!” The sunglasses-wearing man slammed his hand against the steering wheel.
Beside him, the bald leader had been roughly bandaged, the bleeding from his chest temporarily stopped.
“Where is he leading us…” The bald man gritted his teeth, glaring at the faint taillights ahead.
“Watson North is Maelstrom territory.
Is he trying to use them to do his dirty work?” “Boss, should we pull back?” Sunglasses swallowed hard.
“Something feels off about this place.” “Pull back my ass!” The bald man slapped him across the back of his head, wincing as the movement pulled at his wound.
“We lost several brothers!
If we don’t tear this kid to pieces, how are we ever going to hold our heads up in Santo Domingo?!” Panting heavily, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number.
“Hey?
It’s me.” “Mobilize all backup units.
Sent the location to your phone.” “Yeah, Watson North.
I want him alive…
or dead works too.” Hanging up, the bald man stared at the Galena up ahead, his gaze malicious.
“Follow him!” “I want to see where the hell he thinks he can run!”