Strike 2: Dawn of the Daybreaker by Charlie Wood Page B

had super-speed dashed down the street after the Bolt Racer, and the rest of the criminals jumped into vehicles of their own, following the trail of super-powered beings and rocketing through the city of Boston .
    As Strike steered the Bolt Racer wildly in between the other vehicles on the road and tried to make his way out of the city as fast as possible, Keplar turned back to the insane army of creatures chasing them.
    “Hey,” the dog shouted, “can’t this friggin’ thing fly?”
    Strike reached forward and pressed the “Morph” button. “Change to Flying Mant—”
    But then a blast from one of the criminals’ laser guns zipped past Keplar and nailed the dashboard, frying the Bolt Racer’s control panel. Strike turned to Keplar and shrugged.
    “So much for that,” Keplar said. “Bolt, see if you can fix it. Tobes, stay on the wheel and floor it.”
    “What are you gonna do?” Strike asked.
    Keplar stood and took his plasma cannon from his back.
    “What I do best,” he said.
    As Strike drove the Bolt Racer out of Boston ’s twisted streets and toward the highway, Keplar turned to the rear of the car, braced his foot on the backseat, and began blasting away:
BOOM
!
BOOM
!
BOOM
!
BOOM
! The dog had to maintain extreme focus—not only did he have to fire at the half-dozen cars following them filled with criminals, but he also had to turn his weapon to the sky, to take down the bat-winged demons that were swooping down at him and his friends in the Bolt Racer.
    At the wheel of the car, Strike was soon able to relax a little; they were out of the crowded city, and he no longer had to worry about all of the civilians caught in the crossfire. Just when he was thankful to be out on the open road, however, he realized that he was driving straight towards a bridge...and the bridge was opening.
    “Oh, crap!” Strike yelled. “Hold on!”
    The Bolt Racer hit the open bridge as if it was a ramp, and the car flew off the street and up into the night sky. Many of the criminals’ cars also hit the ramp and went airborne, making them easy targets for Keplar—as if they were ducks floating in the air, he blasted them with green plasma bursts from his gun, one-by-one: BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
    Crashing back to the street on the other side of the bridge with a screeching of rubber, Strike desperately tried to regain control of the Bolt Racer, which was fishtailing wildly and kicking up dirt and stones and narrowly missing the other cars coming toward them.
    “Kid, keep us on the damn road!” Keplar yelled. The dog looked to the rear of the car; thanks to the open bridge, most of the criminals were stuck on the other side of the river, and there was now only one convertible full of villains chasing them. However, the heroes weren’t out of danger yet; Keplar could see swarms of flying demons in the air above them, and a few of the tougher super-powered criminals with the power of flight were still following them. “SB, how’s it going down there?”
    Scatterbolt was underneath the dashboard on the passenger side of the Bolt Racer, working on its exposed wires with his hands, which were turned into welding tools.
    “A couple more minutes!” the robot yelled.
    “Okay,” Keplar shouted, over the sounds of screeching tires and honking horns. “Just let us know when—Aarrrggh!”
    Keplar grunted as his arm was hit with a laser blast from one of the flying super-criminals. He fell into the front of the car, holding his wound.
    “You okay?” Strike asked, his eyes pinned to the road.
    “Yeah, but—aarrrghhh!” Keplar tried to move his arm, but couldn’t. “This arm is blurkopped...damn it! Kid, you can’t drive for crap. Get up there and shoot.”
    Keplar took the Bolt Racer’s wheel from Strike and pushed him out of the way. Strike jumped into the back of the vehicle and picked up Keplar’s plasma cannon.
    “How the heck do you work this thing?” Strike asked, inspecting the gun.
    A bullet whizzed by