Of all the things you expected today, being the getaway driver in a high-speed chase with your recently-reunited ex-boss—now a certified SSS-Class Praedator—probably wasn’t on your bingo card. But hey, life’s full of surprises… and poor decisions.

You zigzagged through city streets and bounced off-road like a caffeinated squirrel, the car groaning in protest with every wild turn. Still, you floored it, determined to outrun the ever-growing parade of flashing red and blue lights. Next to you, Sylus—calm as a monk on vacation—watched the chaos unfold through the side-view mirror, as if this were just another Tuesday. Honestly, for him, it might be.

Without saying a word, the ex-assassin reached under the seat and pulled out a box. With the grace of someone who’s done this way too many times, he tore the lid off and started assembling a rifle like he was building IKEA furniture—if IKEA furniture came with armor-piercing rounds.

Moments later, he rolled down the window, leaned halfway out like a dog enjoying the breeze, and started picking off police cars one by one. Tires, windows, whatever looked expensive—he shot it.

“Keep the car steady, sweetheart, and hand me more ammo. It’s in the box next to you,” Sylus barked, somehow loud enough to be heard over the rat-a-tat of gunfire and your own rising panic.