[ WP ] You know the random driver in every action movie where the hero jumps in and orders to `` follow that car ! '' . Yup , that 's you . Every single time you 're trying to get anywhere .

SLAM! 
 
 Some guy drops into the backseat “ FOLLOW THAT- ” and I ’ m off. It ’ s a black sedan. It ’ s always the black sedan. I am so fed up with this shit. I finally land a job that should be decent, should even be a little fun, but no. I have to deal, almost exclusively, with these wackjobs. 
 
 “ Okay, What the everloving shit is it this time? ” I asked, as the little mazda ’ s four cylinders strained to keep me above 80 ( in a 40 mph zone, mind you ) which was, impossibly, mostly free of traffic. Why can ’ t the streets ever be this clear in this city when I ’ m NOT dealing with some wacko trying to save the free world or catch his wife or whatever? “ Russian nukes again? That was fun. Someone shot out my windshield on that one. ” I grit my teeth, as I pull into a handbrake turn “ Somebody kidnap your kid? ” The man in the back ’ s face was a mask of determination, eyes locked on the car in front of us. “ Concentrate on driving. We can ’ t afford to loose him, Not again. ” 
 
 That ’ s it. 
 
 The breaks squealed as my car skidded to a halt in the middle of a overpass. That snapped the twat out of his thousand yard stare. “ NO! You can ’ t stop! If he gets away again, there ’ s no telling how may people might die! ” For anybody else, that ’ d be a worthy argument. However, I lived through the aforementioned Russian nuke fiasco mentioned above. So relative to World War III, I think this guy could afford to chill for a bit. “ Not going anywhere, pal ” I said, rolling down the window. And there ’ s the gun. In my face. Again. “ I was trying to be nice, but to be perfectly honest, you don ’ t really have a choice. Drive. ” Unfortunately for his ass, that only works the first two times. 
 
 “ Actually, mister double-oh-I-don ’ t-give-a-shit, I do. ” I stated calmly, staring him down. “ See, right now, the doors are locked, and the keys are hanging off the side of this overpass by a string. Shoot me, and I let go of it. And you ’ re trapped in a locked cab with a dead body, while whoever the hell we ’ re following goes wherever he wants. Seem fun? ” 
 
 His face shifted slightly, eyes narrowing. “ So, why are you doing this? Who are you working for? ” His tone, was perfectly calm. Like he was asking about the weather. The dissonance would send shivers down my spine, if I wasn ’ t so suicidally mad at all of reality at the moment. “ I work for Edwards Taxi. AND NOBODY ELSE, OKAY! ” my voice naturally rose into a shout. “ I JUST WANT TO MAKE A DECENT LIVING, BUT NO! EVERY SINGLE DAY I HAVE TO DEAL WITH MOTHERFUCKERS LIKE YOU. ” 
 
 He blinked. “ Like me? ” 
 
 “ YEAH, JUST LIKE YOU! Mob men, people running from mob men, assassins, targets, spies of EVERY POSSIBLE NATIONALITY, and that one archaeologist TWAT who always has people shooting at him! ” a tear rolled down my face. I hadn ’ t realized how much this had gotten to me. 
 
 “ So, this sort of thing ” he gestured vaguely to himself and his immediate surroundings “ happens a lot? ” He said, is tone going from dangerously lethal to comforting in nothing flat. 
 
 “ LITERALLY… EVERY DAY. ” Normally, these guys are impossible to read, but that clearly surprised him. He sighed. “ Okay, I really don ’ t have time to hear the whole story, but it sounds like you ’ re not running a taxi cab service. ” 
 
 “ OH MY GOD I ’ M NOT WORKING FOR THE ILLUMINATI OR WHOEVER- ” 
 
 “ LET me finish. ” he snapped. I promptly complied. “ You ’ re not running a taxi cab service, you ’ re running a high-value asset pursuit service. That somehow manages to work on demand. There are people who would pay literally hundreds of millions of dollars for something like that, and call it a bargain. ” 
 
 I almost choked on my own tongue. “ Mi-Millions? H-hundreds?! ” 
 
 “ Yup. You can ’ t exactly charge faire that high though. Most of us don ’ t carry that much cash, and if we are, it ’ s because we REALLY need to, and you ca n't have any. But favors? If you deal with my sort of profession as often as you make it sound like you do, you could get some damn near incredible benefits. ” 
 
 “ Wow. Just… Okay, maybe you ’ re right. I can turn this crappy job around. ” I mumbled. Then a idea occurred to me. “ But, if I ’ m going to do that, I can ’ t exactly make do with this piece of junk car ” I said, a massive, titanic, shit-eatingly huge grin spreading across my face. “ I need an upgrade. Something fast. And bulletproof. Something that will actually be good at these chases I find myself in the midst of. ” 
 
 My still mysterious passenger facepalmed, and mumbled something about how he should have seen this coming, and about wasting a favor. “ Okay, fine. Just drive ” 
 
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 The man smashed through the window, a hail of bullets whizzing through where he had stood just a moment ago. Expertly tumbling, he rolled to his feet. He had escaped, but The Doktor had MAC-G8F1N! He needed to catch up, and fast. Just then, a low, yellow sportscar drifted up to the curb, smoke hissing from tires on red, gleaming hubs, the streetlights glinting off a well-waxed exterior, and a unmistakable taxi checker running down the side. The door popped open, and the driver, a young man, probably Pakistani, shouted at him. “ Get in! Get in you undoubtedly glorious bastard, and let ’ s hunt down some poor sonovabitch! ” 
 
 “ FOLLOW THAT CAR! ” the man shouted. 
 
 “ Follow him!? Imma pass the sonovabitch! Or maybe get real close, and find out if any of these switches activates a flamethrower! BEST JOB EVER! ” his new driver shouted over the roar of the car ’ s mighty engine as they careened off into the night. 
 
 First story post. How'd I do?
