Puron Psych

6

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"Your minion says the tire is fixed."

Harper approached Hyde apprehensively. He was propped against the side of the building, casually. The cigarette he lit earlier was placed in between his fingers.

It shocked Harper to see that it wasn't finished. Hyde's eyes were focused in the air like his mind was somewhere far away.

"Cryston to Hyde." Harper snapped her fingers in front of his face. Their eyes locked. "He says we can leave."

"Unless you want to lose your hand, get it out of my face."

Harper dropped both of her arms to her sides. "It's not my fault you were daydreaming." She mumbled, very annoyed by his response. She followed him back to the car, keeping a good distance just in case he would carry out his threat.

She wanted to be found by Dr. Bomb with all her limbs intact.

Hyde discarded the cigarette and put it out with his boot. "Load the spare in the trunk. We'll burn the damaged tire when we reach Haylestorm."

"I couldn't agree more." Arnest nodded.

"You. Get inside." Hyde shifted his gaze from the car to Harper.

"I don't really have a choice," Harper murmured. "Come on, Yani."

Yanpu jogged over to the back of the car and slid inside first.

A storm of gravel, dust, and fog engulfed them. Fortunately, because both Arnest and her had masks on, the dust did not block their airways. But the thick particles blinded them.

A roaring engine circled around them, and flashy lights flickered on and off, poking through the fog. Harper thought it was another Patrol droid that caught up to them, but when the mist cleared, she was shocked.

7 motorcyclists lined up around the sedan. One in particular, dressed in a burgundy leather jacket swung one leg off his bike and strode over to them with a dastardly smile.

He placed his boot on the hood and spat at the ground. "Well, looky here. I've never seen a ride as sweet as this one on this side of the West."

The motorcyclist in dark red brushed his wavy brunette hair back and lowered his shades. He whistled and nodded in approval. "This ain't Westonan. She's custom made, with parts I ain't ever seen b'fore. How much are y'all rich suckers willing to sell this thing for?"

"None." Arnest shoved the man's foot off the front of the car. "Now get. Go on back to whatever dump you rode from."

The other motorcyclists snickered, while the one in front scowled. He reached in his pockets, but Hyde was faster. It only took a second for him to whip out one of his swords.

Hyde pressed the sharp end near the man's neck and tilted his head mockingly. "Perhaps you didn't understand him. So I'll say it in your language. It ain't for sale."

"That's a purrty knife you got there. Bet you're a real master in the kitchen."

"Mm... more or less," Hyde smirked. "I've been told I'm a professional in other places too."

"Bet your lady friend thinks so too, huh?" He gestured at Harper, who scoffed in response. "Bet he's a real stud in the hay."

"I... what?!" Harper coughed in disgust. Just what was he implying?

"Ay, why do pretty things like you always go for the prideful kind? He may be rich, but there ain't no heart in a man who holds a killer stare."

"He's not— you've got it all wrong, pal!" Harper huffed.