Subcommandante Mumbles v. The Dinosaur Nazis, Episode 2 (Part 6)

by veilwar

I held the wheelie for a long moment and dropped down. I tapped the front brake and let the rear of the bike spin round. I leaned hard left, my knee just inches from the pavement.

Time slowed, like it does. I saw the boss mustache’s eyes widen with surprise. He hit the brakes, too hard. He flew over the handlebars and his bike cartwheeled after him.

I laid the bike down. The pavement ate through my ratty clothes in an instant, and the harsh scrape as it filed away my armor made my nuts want to relocate to my throat.

My bike skidded into mustache number two’s, dropping him and the bike both. His WWI open-faced lid absorbed the worst of the impact, but then he skidded on his chin for another dozen yards.

I rolled onto my back and raised my feet. With bent knees, I crashed into mustache number three. My left foot hit his knee, my right his bike’s front fork. I was probably only moving at 20 mph by now.

The sudden shock of impact wrenched my whole body. That’s going to hurt later, I thought as my spine tried to corkscrew out of my back. I absorbed a lot of the hit with my legs, but still I flipped over the bike, airborne and flying at the fourth and last mustache.

His bike weaved sharply back and forth as he braked madly to avoid the wreckage of #2 mustache. I flailed through the air, arms windmilling. For a fraction of a second I tried to tuck into a ball, but realized it just wasn’t going to happen. I gave up and kept flying, thrashing all the while like a retard superman.

My lower back struck the biker’s head with dull thwack as my armor hit his helmet. That spun me again, and I did a an awesome back flop onto the payment. The air whooshed out of my lungs.

I watched a crow fly overhead as my diaphragm fluttered ineffectually. I tried to stand, but just couldn’t move. Horns blared as cars screeched to a stop to avoid the accident.

Except, it’s really not an accident when you crash on purpose, is it?

With a raspy wheeze, my lungs finally sucked in a ragged gulp of air. I stood up, and drew my Glock. I walked over to mustache #3 and and placed the front sight on the bridge of his nose.