Mad Mike

In a continent where society is on the brink of extinction and the life expectancy in the police force is VERY short, only a MAD person will be willing enough to enforce the law.

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Suddenly two bikers sped from the darkness, behind the Taurus, and approached each side of the car and both of them swung their aluminum bats at both the cops from behind.  The cop with the shotgun was struck behind the head, sending blood flying the back side of the car and into the air, as he fired and his buckshot missed the Super 8 tires and struck the ground as he dropped his sawed off shotgun, and slumped out the window sill unconscious while the cop driver’s window was smashed in and the bat struck his left shoulder, making him lose control of the vehicle, and he spun out as the bikers sped past.  The bikers drove up to the Super 8 and gave a thumbs up before the driver exclaimed, “YEAH!  TEAMWORK AGAINST THE FP BABY!” The cop driver pulled his partner back in and saw blood running down his scalp and the cop used the radio, “This is unit 4 on Route 4, we are out of the game!  Send a meat wagon immediately!  Maxwell’s unconscious and bleeding badly!  Bed advised there are two bikers, I repeat, TWO bikers that are with the Super 8 and are shadowing him to ambush anyone that tries to stop him!” Suddenly there was a sound of a V8 and the cop driver looked up and saw Mike’s Dodge Charger racing past him and onto the darkened road.

 

    Once Mike passed the wreck he turned off his headlights, leaving only the occasional unbroken street lights lighting up the road and the moonlight from the full moon.  Mike is just able to see the taillights of the Super 8, as he tried to catch up, while the Super 8 hit a dune buggy in the rear and forced it off the road while along the sides of the road, the pedestrians ran further away from the sides to stay clear from the swerving truck.  The bikers drove between Mike and the Super 8 with their lights off and possibly wore night vision goggles as the bikers took advantage of the pedestrians only looking at the truck as they hit them with their bats.  The unknowing pedestrians were hit across their heads, shoulders, stomach or limbs as the bikers raced by, leaving many crying out in pain or those that are with them crying out in shock or sadness over the blood that is being spilled by the bikers in their path.

 

    A woman with her daughter just exited a restaurant and were walking away from the parking lot as the young girl is eating her ice cream.  The woman smiled down at the young girl and asked, “Do you like it honey?” The girl replied, “Yes mommy.  Can I have another later?” The mother laughed heartily and replied, “Only after you complete your chores next week dear.” Her daughter said, “Okay.” They heard a sound of a truck and screaming people when they looked back it was the Super 8 and it is barreling right towards them.  The people in the parking lot either ran out of the way or onto the porch of the restaurant as the woman immediately grabbed her daughter, lifted her up and jumped out of the way without either of them screaming as the daughter held onto her ice cream firmly as the truck zipped past them.  Without shock or concern, the mother sat her daughter back down and the mother looked down and asked her daughter, “It’s okay honey, everything is going to be all right.” They both looked up at the swerving truck as its tires squealed from every turn, not noticing a biker speeding out of the darkness and the biker swung his bat and clubbed the back of the mother’s head in, making a loud smack sound, and a spray of blood flew onto the ground surrounding her crumpled body and her daughter without a single drop of blood touching the little girl.  The biker made a high pitch laugh as he sped away, leaving the mother lying face down on the ground with blood soaking the back of her head and shoulders as her daughter looked down at her calmly.  The daughter looked down at her mother confused as her mother did not move to get up and the girl tug at her mother’s light blue waitress uniform and asked, “Mommy?  Mommy, why aren’t you getting up?” The mother slurred, “It’s, okay, honey.” 

 

    Mike drove by and saw the young girl over her mom’s crumpled body as people close by began to approach and help the poor girl.  Mike glared down the road as he shifted gears and pulled the button to start up the V8 engine and roared down the road towards the Super 8 till he was almost right behind it as it continued to zig zag.  It did not take long for the bikers to race up at both sides and Mike swerved his Dodge Charger and hit one of the biker’s and the biker almost lost his balance. The Super 8 swerved to the right and immediately Mike fired his V8 and sped up to the left side of the truck and aimed his sawed off shotgun right at the driver’s side window.  The driver looked shocked and he screamed, “JESUS HE’S MAD! HE’s...” Mike blasted both barrels and the driver’s side window exploded as the driver quickly shielded his face with his left forearm and when he looked back up he screamed in horror as he slammed into the back of a small family RV, destroying its back half and both the RV and the Super 8 spun out in the shower of debris.  The tires of the V8 1969 Dodge Charger squealed as Mike hit the brakes and spun his car 180, stopped and saw the bikers that were behind him turning back and racing from the direction from which they came.  Mike immediately shifted gears and activated the V8 as he raced down the road to catch up.  

 

    The biker’s reached the restaurant and saw a small crowd gathering around the girl, still sitting next to her mother that laid face down, and one of the biker’s pulled out his bat and the people screamed and scattered leaving the girl alone with her mother on the ground.  The girl noticed the incoming crazed bikers and she hugged her mother for protection and cover her face as she cried out as one of the bikers was over her with his bat raised when suddenly a black V8 Dodge Charger drove over a pile of rubble, leapt into the air and came down on top of the unsuspecting biker and pinned him beneath his left rear tire.  The little girl looked up and saw the pinned, dazed biker and Mike is looking at her with concern and asked, “Are you all right?” The girl replied calmly but on the verge of crying, “I’m okay, but my mommy needs help.  Please?” Before Mike could respond he watched as a few of the pedestrians that ran away before came back and helped the girl away and carried her mother, as they tried to comfort the little girl, closer to the restaurant’s porch and away from the road.  The biker, pinned by Mike’s car, gurgled blood as he looked at Mike with a pleading expression, while Mike stared back with a blank expression and the biker spoke through his own blood, “Don’t, please.” Mike replied without emotion, “Fuck you.” And he shifted gears and kept his foot on the brake as he stepped on the gas pedal and the tire on top of the biker, spun and ripped through his clothes, flesh and muscles as dark grey smoke and blood spewed all around the wheel well and around the back left corner of the car as the biker screamed in agonizing pain.  

 

    When the biker fell silent, as if his screams were consumed by the squealing of the tire that is ripping through him, Mike drove off leaving a trail of blood from his left rear tire and a wrecked bike and bloody chunks of what’s left of the dead biker in his wake.  He drove into the darkness, not turning on his headlights, and as he drove with his window down he did not hear the sound of the second biker on the road.  His tires squealed as he slammed on the brakes and pulled his car to the left dirt shoulder and put his muscle car on park.  Mike sat idle for a few moments in darkness (leaving only the moonlight shinning down on the landscape) till he grabbed his “Punk Killer” bat, left his vehicle and walked into the Savannah like terrain beyond the road.  After a few dozen yards or so he suddenly stopped as he heard the sound of a revving engine of a motorcycle and he tightened his grip on his bat as he heard the sound of the bikes approach.  

 

    The biker and his bike laid on his left side as he watched Mike drive in the darkness, through his night vision goggles, till he stopped, got out of his car and walked till he was ahead of the biker.  The biker smiled beneath his helmet and he suddenly started up his engine, as he and the bike got up, and kicked up dirt behind him as he raced around Mike to confuse his approach.  After a few minutes of zigzagging around Mike, the biker pulled out his bat and approached Mike from behind at full speed.  His bike leapt into the air, over an elevated flat rock, and swung his bat high as he bared down on Mike’s back and the back of his head, but before he could react to his surprise, Mike screamed like a mad man as he swung his bat and hit the biker in the face so hard that it made an almost glass shattering sound as the biker’s goggles were smashed in and blood flew from his face as he was knocked off his bike.  Mike did not pay attention to the bike, as it smashed to the ground behind him, but watched the motionless biker as he laid sprawled on his back for a few moments before heading back to his car.

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