White Lion Rising

Chapter 7

"Five, four, three–"

"Wait–wait!" Lleó shouted interrupting Junichi's countdown. "Hold cycle transformation. I've got a better plan."

Xavi's eyes widened in disbelief as he shook his head in frustration while watching the three drones on the holographic screen. "Damn it, Two-Six–you're out in the open. Those drones are closing in on your position."

"Good," Lleó replied. "Let them come." He shifted up to seventh gear and shot through the dark and empty Ronda de Dalt expressway at three hundred and eleven kilometers per hour.

"Two-Six!" Xavi exclaimed. "We need cycle transformation now! Jettison the diesel–that damn motor is producing too much noise. The drones are triangulating your position by tracking the frequencies emitted by that engine."

"I thought this bike had attained near silence."

"Not in that corridor," Junichi corrected. "You're shooting down an opened tunnel that is amplifying sound. You know that at seventh gear the sound suppression system cannot muffle–"

"Fine–whatever–doesn't matter," he slammed the bike's brakes and shifted down to fourth gear to make a sharp right turn off the expressway onto the avenue that had once been called Estatut de Catalunya.

"What is he doing?" Junichi asked not realizing that he was gripping the hair around his scalp.

"I don't know," Xavi answered. He took a step back to gain a wider perspective on the holographic map trying to discern Lleó's strategy. He scratched the mole beneath his right eye and advised, "All we can do now is trust and watch."

Lleó shifted the bike back up to fifth and then sixth gear as he swiftly went around a roundabout and continued down the empty avenue toward a second roundabout, which led directly to an unlit, short tunnel that he sped directly into and out of in less than a second. He braked again, shifted down to ease through a curve in the road and sped down the avenue toward the kilometer long Túnel de la Rovira. He shifted the bike up to seventh gear and hit three hundred kilometers per hour through the straightaway of the tunnel. He maximized the GPS digital map with a thought and quickly confirmed the course he was taking to the target. Seeing the end of the tunnel approaching, he minimized the map, exited the tunnel, and slammed on the brakes to make a sharp right turn onto Ronda del Guinardo and then an immediate left on Carrer de Pi I Margall.

Speeding the bike back up toward maximum velocity, he saw the extent of the devastation caused by years of an oppressive occupation that had nearly isolated the city. Dilapidated three and four-storey buildings peppered and scarred by bullets holes, and shrapnel lined the street that was littered on both sides with piles of splintered lumber, rusted piping, rotting garbage, crushed and pulverized concrete that had fallen from the façade of the buildings as a result of heavy gunfire and bombardment, torn plastic bags nearly emptied of their contents, and smashed bottles. He shifted the bike down from sixth to fifth to fourth gear, turned left onto Carrer de l'Escorial, made an immediate right turn onto Travessera de Gracia, and then made a sharp left turn onto Passeig de Sant Joan; a street that he had remembered in his youth as being lined with plane trees. But now, only the stumps of the trees remained for the impoverished inhabitants of the city had cut them down more than a decade ago to provide heat in the night during a long and punishing winter.

He accelerated the cycle toward its top speed not seeing a single street or apartment light activated. The night vision setting of his helmet's visor provided a view ahead of Plaça de Tetuan; renamed Plaça de Tiananmen by the Chinese occupying forces. He focused the lens of his visor by straining his eyes and could clearly see the makeshift garrison that had been constructed with welded iron plating around three People's Liberation Army Type 111 main battle tanks that had fired upon, smashed into, and crushed the Bartomeu Robert monument. He switched his visor's camera to thermal imagining and saw the body heat of seven soldiers within the compound beginning to cluster around the slit openings facing the street he was racing down. Several sparks flared from the garrison's slit openings, and then he heard the chink, chink, chink of their bullets pelting his bulletproof, stealth motorcycle.

"They're on to you," he heard Xavi warn him through his helmet's radio receiver. "No shit!" he replied as he swerved from one side of the street to the other. He flipped the red safety switch on the cycle's right handlebar off and activated the missile guidance system.

"Wait–wait–wait," Xavi exhorted. "What they hell are you doing?"

Lleó locked onto his approaching target and fired one of four anti-tank guided missiles. He slammed on the brakes hearing the continued clink of bullets impacting the front, angular shield of his motorcycle and braced for the shockwave to come. The soldiers scurried. The missile struck and unleashed an explosion of black flame that mushroomed up from the pulverized garrison. He kicked the cycle back into gear and advanced toward the devastated fiery square.

"Congratulations, you ass–I knew it–why don't you damn listen to me!" Xavi exclaimed in Catalan. "All three drones are now heading for Tetuan," he said in English.

Lleó accelerated toward the burning square leaning the cycle closer toward the left side of the dilapidated street. He shot passed Carrer de la Diputació and decelerated deep into the curve of the street that merged into the roundabout before accelerating the cycle back up from second to third to fourth gear. He was now speeding down what was once named Gran Via de les Corts Catalanes and saw–a kilometer away–the towering, mechanical, heavy armor bi-pedal battle tank droid standing on its thick, iron cast hind legs at the center of the Plaça de les Glòries. The battle droid's upper torso began rotating in the direction to which Lleó was riding. He zoomed the binocular lenses of his helmet onto his target and could see the droid's cockpit–tinted, thick glass reinforced by a webbed frame of titanium–at its center. He sighted its two mounted, multiple missile launchers each holding sixteen 183-millimeter rockets and its four sets of fast-firing, six-barreled 24-millimeter rotary cannons. Immediately, the cannon's specifications appeared on his visor's screen highlighting its rate of fire: 8,000 rounds per minute.

Lleó prepared for cycle transformation. He signaled with a thought to the computer to release the cycle's racing fuel and to begin power transition to its electric generator. He unholstered his handgun, looked back, and fired several rounds at the street behind him until the stream of leaking fuel from his motorcycle lit on fire creating a burning trail that chased after his vehicle.

"What in God's name are you doing?" Xavi shouted. "You're lighting yourself up!"

The digital screen projected on Lleó's visor, then flashed in red bold text: Drone Lock On. Lleó accelerated up to seventh gear passing the old bullring that had been razed to the ground by the bombardment of heavy artillery and could see that he had only seconds before the battle droid would be able to target and fire upon him. His screen now read: Drone Missile Launch.

"White Lion Two-Six–you have one–two–three–I repeat three–Hellfire II missiles deployed with heading one-one-two-nine," Junichi informed with rising anxiety.

"Cycle transformation on my mark," Lleó began the three-second countdown. He increased speed, passed another city block, and prepared himself as he watched the three Hellfire missiles bearing down on his position on the digital map. He leaned the cycle to the left side of the inclining street, fired his boosters, and shot the motorcycle up the street ramp to the elevated roundabout that had been half torn down. Jettisoning the cycle's ten-cylinder, liquid-cooled 20-valve engine in midair, he launched the plasma thrusters as he somersaulted further up into the dark air toward the battle droid's cockpit. The battle droid began firing its rotary cannons tearing up and shredding the four-lane avenue. Instantly the cycle transformed around Lleó's body into a heavily armored exoskeleton. Lleó's body spread open and crashed directly on top of the battle droid's cockpit. He looked down seeing the front wheel of his cycle now attached to his armored left forearm acting as a shield and saw the battle droid's masked pilot looking up at him in disbelief.