"Gas! Gas! Gas!" Dad’s voice barks. “Now!”
Two metallic thwack sounds echo across the audio loop. On the screen, dense, gray plumes of tear gas burst instantly over the windshields of both chase cars. White smoke floods the night-vision camera, obscuring the vehicles in a cloud of thick, billowy haze.
"Moving in," Locke’s voice comes through now. "Cover the passenger side, Mayhem. Cobra, Bishop, take the cab."
"Two minutes," I whisper under my breath, watching the timers ticking down in the corner of Byte's screen. "They’re right on time."
Through the speakers, we hear the sharp, splintering crash of safety glass shattering.
"Out of the vehicle!” Mayhem’s roar echoes through the smoke. “Hands! Show me your hands!”
"Cab is clear," Bishop checks in. "Driver’s secured. Zip-ties on."
Ev
