The speeding chase of motorcars roared beyond the pavement for the black Ducati as Rhett accelerated away at a thundering velocity.
The slippery street from the melting snow made it harsh for the heavy cars to keep up.
"Drive faster." An infuriated Ishmael demanded.
Zev answering shifted the gear.
The red hand of the circular speedometer moving up to eighty then to ninety.
His eyes reflecting the mind betrayed the calm expression he wore.
Raka was being deranged after a mere woman, abandoning duties. Who was she exactly?
Neva whipped her head over her shoulder, the speed of the bike making her dizzy, slashing wind waving a barrage her open hair.
She turned back. The wind piercing, she was afraid with the speed Rhett was driving, but the black shadows breaking through the white fog scared her greater.
Her arms wrapped around Rhett's waist only tightened.
Rhett glimpsed for a second at the silhouettes of black cars tearing through the street, screeching tyres and screaming engines reflecting on the rear-view mirror of the right side of his bike.
He stared ahead with squinted eyes, the low beam on for better visibility.
Sensing no other incoming lights of cars he expedited the Ducati up and up to the speed of 200.
"Damnit." Ishmael gritted his teeth. "Get out,"
"What?'' Zev frowned.
"Get the hell out!" Ishmael growled.
Zev twitched his lips, the abrupt halt jerking the car.
Zev vacated the seat and Ishmael whipped himself on the driver's seat.
Shutting the door, Ishmael speeded the black Porsche off leaving Zev behind.
Zev ceased one of the Range Rover controlled by their man.
Ishmael advanced the rest, pushing the speedometer up to 290 mph.
Rhett slowed down as he reached a two-way street.
The left path was void and free.
The right path had a huge truck layered in snow, still and broken lying against the fallen serried of trees on the side, reminding of a tragic accident.
Left with no choice he slitted away to the left narrow pavement—and to the wonderway, between the naked clawing trees and looming shadows of evergreen pine trees.
Ishmael constrained the break when he reached the same path of the broken truck, whheling to the left, he reversed the car and slid through the filling vapour of haze.
Neva's couldn't feel her ice cold exposed hands anymore. Her breathing tattered, heart thrumming fast, she prayed to just let it end.
Echoed the rumbling of the engine. Rhett sensed the SUV thirty yards away. He had slowed down, for fear of cars or fallen logs. The fog was worst here.
Soon followed more screaming engines of SUV's. Raka's men steering after.
Rhett reached behind with his left hand and felt the cold metal of pistol tucked under the jeans. His hands were cold, his face pricked by the gale because of the open ventilation of the helmet, for it would've made it harder for him to see with the vapour exhaled his nose and mouth clouding the glass.
Rhett steadied the bike to a 50 and suddenly took a u–turn. He stretched his arms and aimed right at the slowing gullible Porsche.
Neva flinched and covered her ears so close to the thundering noise. Her head down and buried in Rhett's back.
Panicking. Her body shuddering without her sway.
Ishmael ushered the wheel to the right—grazing the iced street and creating a shrill noise.
The bullet pierced the back door of the car. The metal taking the bullet for him.
And just as quickly another bullet pierced the glass, shattering shards on his back and over his ducked head.
Ishmael ceased the car.
The next immediate moment his men opened fire at Rhett.
Rhett cursed as the hits barely missed and hit the ground, gravel flying on them. He gripped Neva from behind and clasped her shaking frame to his back and shifted smoothly his body wheeling a u–turn, now brashing straight.
Behind Ishmael's men followed and continued firing.
"No Firing!" Ishmael screamed through the ear piece.
They retreated immediately.
"Surround the bike." Ishmael ordered.
He was left with no possibility other then to stop his bike.
Gunning down Rhett seemed appealing, lest he didn't have Neva with him.
He did not want Rhett's control over the motorbike to go astray, leading Neva being injured.
Rhett did not have time to refill the bullets, he could only rigorously use the remaining ones.
Slowing he aimed yet again, his view of them the rear view mirror.
Another rumbling echo.
Neva shut her eyes tight, her hands already back around Rhett's waist clenching.
A crashing noise resounded.
A bullet pierced through a driver's head, the windshield shattered, the SUV in the fore violently losing it's balance.
The fragments of sharp splintered glasses hitting the left eye of the man on the front passenger's seat.
The man controlling the vehicle behind bulged his eyes, he hit brake, attempting to avoid the skewed SUV.
To no avail the speed and sleet made it impossible, and the SUV coming after through the blindness of fog darting at an unkempt speed crashed into his car.
The two SUVs sandwiching him between, clouds of smoke from the cars mixing with the vapour, the oil spilling, the other men inside injured... arising a havoc in the midst of the narrow road between woods.
Five motorcars were still in the rear. Sliding through the wreckage and carrying on the chase.
Rhett steadily speeded his motorbike, half his mind on the road and the other on the convex mirror. This time, without turning his head, he positioned the firearm. His grip on the gun with the non–dominant left hand made it barely possible to have a better aim.
But yet, the bullet without fault pierced through the men, the consequence of the black SUV speeding forwards now deranged crashing against trees.
Rhett perceived the two vehicles, sprinting unswerving and maintaining a linear balance. His unparalleled witty and rapid actions, wavered the high ranked asssailants making them bleed them out to death.
Six out of nine SUV's were in a catalysm.
The priceless vehicles could not live up to Rhett's beastly bullets.
The driver in Zev's car rather slowed the speed avoid casualties. If they couldn't hit the bike, how were they supposed to even catch them. When the petrol dries?
And suddenly a loud crash...
His ducked, his face paling, the glass of the windscreen cracking, the car moving messy in a plight. He held himself strained to his seat, holding anything to maintain balance.
The driver had been shot in the chest. He bleeded out, frantically mumbling jumbled words.
Zev reached over to handle the steering wheel, he removed the bleeding man's feet off the brake and pressed it. The car coming to a stop.
"Fuck! He got hit!" One of the men on the back cursed.
Zev pressed his hands on the wound, attempting to stop the hot blood oozing out. The blood pressure dropping, he started losing consciousness.
Ishmael connected to Zev. "Are you hit?"
"I'm not but—" Zev replied. "Then fuck not act like it!" He screamed through the ear piece.
Betwixt the command of his Boss and the instinct of reversing the car to save the dying comrade, Zev's expression hardened.
"What do we do?" One of the man behind inquired. Glancing at the wounded man, Zev utterred oaths.
"Get him in the back. Let's get over with this."
---
Rhett made a chaos. And away far from the snowy street mercilessly bloodied, he arrived to to a trivial path.
At the end, there was only a good road moving up a high hill slope. Gazing straight it was a dead end, a warning sign of an open hoke written in a board stamped crooked deep in the dirt.
"Grab on to me firmer Neva." Pressing on the brake, he rolled the handle bar, a rumbling sound reverbating. Neva didn't question him and did as he told her to, clutching onto him tighter as Rhett released the brake, accelerating up the ground.
The three remaining cars arrived at the same path. Ishmael led forward, stepping on his gas, mounting up the elevation.
The rest of the cars did the same.
It was a cliff. A dead end. Deep unfroze water below.
And Rhett and Neva on the bike, so close to the edge.
She looked below, shivering.
"What do we do now?" Neva asked, sucking in a sharp air at the harsh waves of the water.
Rhett said nothing, reloading the gun. He gazed the nothingness. The frosty air colder and sharper.
His ears perked up, the noise of a roaring engine approaching.
The SUV came darting at their face. Rhett and Neva on the motorbike, stark against Ishmael.
Rhett aimed at the Porsche.
Raka's form visible through the windscreen.
Rhett fired.
Ishmael seen through him swirled right the steering wheel, casual hands harshly swirling the car sround, the tire producing a screeching noise.
The rear of the SUV in Rhett's sight of view came to a stop.
Neva held her breath as Ishmael emerged out of the car.
A revolver in his hand.
Rhett and Ishmael aiming at each other.
Rhett threw his helmet off and got off the bike as Ishmael approached.
Rhett concealed Neva behind his back, and she peeked a look at Ishmael. Their eyes fastening making anxiety gnaw at her.
Rhett monitored his moves. Every little details: including the twitch of a muscle in his jaw as his eyes fell on the woman standing behind him.
And the way his darkened eyes contained a tint of coldness; for he seized a part of hell's cruelness in them.
"What do you want from her?" Rhett scowled.
"We meet again, Agent Czar."
Neva's shaky orbs travelled between the two...
Indistinguishable features, much the same heights, yet Ishmael seemed slightly broader in built and Rhett slightly taller?—and their voices thinly differed.
They uttered words hinting they are definitely not stranger to one other.
Then soon rumbled to a halt the SUVs at a distant.
They immediately surrounded them, bearing weapons.
And they gave the two men a perplexed look.
The man snatching Raka's woman was a man; harbouring an uncanny resemblance of features as him.
Zev knew him, and remained collected, since he knew Raka looked into Rhett's life. Concluding the fact; he actually did look alike Ishmael and not a counterfeit.
Although, he was not able to bring an answer to why they are the way they are.
It's not impossible for them to not have a blood relationship.
"Let Neva go." Ishmael stated.
"Never." Rhett growled, his gaze cold and stoned.
Ishmael hardened his jaw.
"Neva get here." A bland expression, he tilted his head and stole s glimpse of Neva endeavouring to appear meager.
Rhett grabbed her hand; assuring she's safe with him. All the while keeping his eyes static on Ishmael. "She's not a dog Raka." He mocked.
"I said come here!" Ishmael raged making her cower behind Rhett.
He breathed out shallowly, warm vapour clouding out his mouth. His heart hurt at her indifference. And here he thought they were closer after last night.
He lowered the weapon, trudging towards her.
"Don't!" Rhett warned, tapping Neva's hand and starting to move her back along with him.
They were surrounded. If he made a move, Raka's men would rain bullets on them.
A burbling, babbling sound of water clashing with the rocks echoed the hush morning. The water below was flowing with harsh rushing waves. A river deep running enough to not be frozen still in this cold.
"Stay back," Rhett gritted his teeth.
Ishmael didn't cease.
A swift in the air.
Ishmael fired at Rhett.
Followed the clashing sound of a bodies meeting with water.
Ishmael was numb. Unmoving.
Neva was whipped back below the cliff with Rhett.
Was she hurt because of him?
His mind turned white.
Zev didn't know if the bullet got Rhett. They fell quick and sharp. He couldn't manage to grasp their movements.
"Get them! Jump in!" Zev commanded seeing his boss seized to his feet.
Hesitating a little, yet the men dive in the freezing water. Their heavy and brawny bodies battling with the cold, greenish river.