The sun is setting, casting long, orange shadows across the industrial district. Behind you, the rhythmic wail of a police siren cuts through the roar of your engine. It’s Sergeant Cross. He’s been on your tail for three districts, his Corvette keeping pace like a relentless hound.
Ahead, a roadblock of heavy SUVs forms a wall of steel. You see a narrow gap between the bumper of a Rhino unit and a concrete barrier. You hit the .
The landing is hard, jarring your bones, but you’re gone before the dust settles. Rockport is yours, and Razor is next.
"All units, we have a Code 6," Cross’s voice crackles over the stolen police scanner. "The suspect is heading toward the bridge. Do not let him cross."
As you straighten out, the bridge comes into view. The barricades are up, but the jump is clear. You floor the gas, the needle buried deep in the red. The roar of the engine drowns out the sirens. For a second, you’re airborne—weightless—a king of the concrete jungle.
The sun is setting, casting long, orange shadows across the industrial district. Behind you, the rhythmic wail of a police siren cuts through the roar of your engine. It’s Sergeant Cross. He’s been on your tail for three districts, his Corvette keeping pace like a relentless hound.
Ahead, a roadblock of heavy SUVs forms a wall of steel. You see a narrow gap between the bumper of a Rhino unit and a concrete barrier. You hit the .
The landing is hard, jarring your bones, but you’re gone before the dust settles. Rockport is yours, and Razor is next.
"All units, we have a Code 6," Cross’s voice crackles over the stolen police scanner. "The suspect is heading toward the bridge. Do not let him cross."
As you straighten out, the bridge comes into view. The barricades are up, but the jump is clear. You floor the gas, the needle buried deep in the red. The roar of the engine drowns out the sirens. For a second, you’re airborne—weightless—a king of the concrete jungle.
