Kick after kick, the darn thing mocked her. It's Gravium's core begging her to smash it. Then came the howls, the battering on the door, that trapped them like rats in a bunker: a half-dead Monarch and her broken legs. This was it. This was all she could muster. Powerless and weak.
Her chest warmed — the flicker of core teasing what she could be. She pressed her fingers, scratching and digging at it to give it a peace of her mind. If she were an Archdemon, she could start this bike with ease, no, a flick--a word.
Then, crawling closer than she noticed, Marshal's arm slithered forward, and she could have slapped him for where it was going, but as he pressed the tank, his fingers bright with Voltite, she could ignore it for now. As beneath her legs, the engine sparked. The hum of her throttle, spinning the rubber.
"Next time you try that, I'll cut off your hand." She said.
Marshal rewound his arm from the fuel tank, brushing off the molten bone which barbequed her thigh. She clenched a grin, stupid, stupid, foolish heart. Her pulsating chest betrayed her every word.
"Get going," Marshal said. The smile behind her ear was so wide she wanted to wheelie it off.
She pointed the motorbike towards the gateway, the open corridor, the first thing she could get to. Her hands trembled on bars, each second a raw nerve as she waited for the twist. Could she do it?
But impatient and ravenous, the Bulkhead behind them gave way, unleashing a swarm of limbs in her direction. In her panic, she released the clutch; without the heavy man's weight countering the torque from the struggling engine, her bike might have slipped out of her grip.
She clenched her teeth, her body tensing as the tyres gripped the steel, pushing them ahead. A fleeting thought reminded her to tell Marshal about the motorcycle's power when he nearly fell backward, his arms resembling heavy logs crashing into her abdomen.
"Hold on," she said, her lips smiling.
She must have been insane, a loony to be smiling right now. Her bleeding fingers slipped on the handlebars, and her feet ached as she changed gears, the roar of death racing behind her. She was clearly mad—a crazy batshit woman.
With better balance, she dropped a gear and shot the front wheel up, catching the next jump in levels. The ship's floors seemed to crack, mould, and move. Tectonic plates of aircraft, as designed, were not meant to do that.
Suddenly, a blistering wind and suction of fog drew her—the tunnel of air like an arrow or guiding light. Wherever the hole was, it was a way out—but slapping the bike's suspension and bottoming out sparks under Marshal's weight. She only had a few routes she could take.
"Are you done thinking?" Marshal shouted.
He gripped her tighter, his rigid body like a ruler up her behind as she flung the bike around bend after bend. Why did it surprise her? She smiled. Couldn't he ride?
Then, like a battering ram ahead, a second swarm shunted the wall like paper. She bit her lip as she clamped the front brake; the friction was not enough as she and Marshal lifted off their seats.
"Marshal", she snapped. Hoping the magic man had something he could pull out.
And he didn't disappoint. Marshal reached toward the light fixture, gleaming and sparking. It snuffed out, and they shot sideways into a skid. Gravium aura engulfed the bike, the tether of force, like a ball on a pin, rolled them around a corner. It was a manoeuvre that would have been impossible for a bike to make on gyroscopic forces alone. And feeling Marshal lean harder into her, her back scorching from his breath, she was not going to be pulling any stunts again. For the first time, she let herself lean into his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat against her spine. It's up to her now.
So burning, clutch gear and tyres, she found grip and raced towards the light. Almost, almost. The scraping of claws and guttural growls grew louder, filling the echoes of the corridor, a horror just at the edge of her mirrors.
She could feel her rev metre mimicking her heart as the bike screamed full throttle. A warmth flared in her chest, whispering embers sparking beneath her skin, each begging to burst free as she clung tighter to the handlebars.
Bump, Bump, grate, collapsing floors. Each new shard of metal, an inch closer to the last, her smothered face, her body howling to stay on just a little longer, a millisecond longer. Not yet. She wasn't ready to let it end, to stop.
Her eyes dried, her sight failing her, a curse to command her to sleep. Her splintered energy, depleted, her lagging eyes compelling her to slumber… Rest. She deserved it. She needed it. Sleep darling...
However, on instinct alone, she entered the final gear and bashed the limiter at the top end, the deafening howl, pumping every drip of blood she had. Step, step, step. Her arms twitched, muscles cramping as her vision clouded, the edges darkening. She blinked, hoping the blurriness would clear, but her starved brain gave up on her. So she floored it.
No brain, no thoughts, just speed and a little hope. Just a smidge....