Redline's Hammer

[Redline Fox]

A short one. Next to last one I have to post, so I'm just putting them up since I have the time right now.



April 5th, 1977

Redline Fox didn?t know the name of the highway that his Picard Piranha was
blasting down at over 100mph. The morning was just breaking over the flat Oklahoma
landscape that stretched almost into eternity. Far, so very far in the distance, the dim
shadowy mist of the Rocky mountains could be seen. Peering at the far off foothills,
Redline thought of how much he would like be in those mountains, relaxing in a cool lake,
kicked back and just enjoying himself. It was around 6:00 AM and the sun had just
flooded enough light to allow him to turn his headlights off. It was the time in the morning
that dew still clung to the short shrubs of the bleak landscape, soon to be burned off into
the flat plain?s growing heat. Humming with contentment in the morning cruise, the newly
installed 432 HEMI engine in the ?Ranha held no contempt for the world. With the
windows down, Redline let his left arm hang lazily out so he could touch the outside of
the door with his palm. Although the hand simply was tapping against the cold metal, in
his mind, Red was petting the powerful machine with peace in his thoughts. It had been
awhile since he has felt this good. He had made some friends on the highways and was
getting to know a few of the more elite crowd of vigilantes. It had taken him awhile,
through some very hard times on his own. A few people had been able to exploit him, he
got used, got left alone in the dark night with nothing but the coldest rains pouring down
on his face. But now he was getting stronger, faster, more cunning. He could watch his
own back, others could rely on him. Most importantly, he had people he could trust now.

These thoughts where good, he felt good, it was a good morning. But in wartime,
good things are short lived. Redline was reclined in his seat, not really paying attention to
anything other then those good thoughts. He was on patrol, he should have had his mind
more fixed on that. About a mile behind him a yellow Picard Jack-Rabbit was speeding
down the highway. Inside the streaking vehicle two criminals where enjoying their newly
stolen ride. Blood stained the doorhandle, where one of them had stabbed the hand of the
rightful owner, although the ?rightful? owner was a creeper who had stolen the car from a
dealership. The two criminals where celebrating their latest bank robbery in a small
backwater town called Woodward. Counting the money they laughed and gloated to each
other about who was the master mind of the pair. As with Redline Fox, good thoughts
distract, and it was no different for these two bad guys.

The yellow Jackrabbit?s big block 440 Six-Pack was at full song, with out either
Redline or the criminals noticing, it was quickly running up on the back of the red
Piranha. In his rearview, Redline saw a flash of yellow, as the criminals saw a flash of red
in front of them. They jerked the wheel sharply, at the same time stabbing the brakes, slide
turning into the oncoming lane to barely avoid a collision. Once the Jackrabbit was
brought back under control, they hit the throttle and immediately began firing the .30
caliber turret mounted on top of the car. Redline luckily had slide his own car towards the
edge of the road, the tires touching dirt and loosing traction but retaining enough to stay
straight. As the first few rounds from the .30 ricochet off the armored front fender,
Redline quickly pressed a button on the Tyler-Barnett control console, activating the radar
jammer. The turret on the Jackrabbit lost its lock and rotated back forward.

As the Jackrabbit sped away, he considered weather he should engage or not. The
con-trail of a rear fired Aim-Nein made his mind up for him. Quickly switching lanes, the
missile flew past harmlessly. Redline flipped the jammer off while checking his ammo. His
forward weapons consisted of a 7.62mm and a Dr. Radar missile launcher. He had decided
a few days ago to give the Dr. Radar a try out, but had not found it as useful as he had
hoped and the launcher only held one more missile. To Redline?s dismay, his ?Ranha was
no match for the Jackrabbit?s straight line speed, and its rear-firing weapons wouldn?t let
him get any closer. He hated getting caught in fire fights on roads like this. His car was
better suited for mountain roads or even a little off-roading. The recently installed 432
HEMI was detuned for a break in period, but the Jackrabbit?s strung out 440 allowed it to
walk away. Switching to the missile, he unlocked the safety key and waited for the lock
confirmation to beep.

The two criminals where busy again once again congratulating each other for
scaring the hell out of that ?Little bitch Piranha.?, the driver boasting how he had meant to
do it just for the fun. They did not even hear their warning beep. The Dr. Radar missile hit
dead square in the Jackrabbit?s back bumper, the concussion of the explosive impact
accelerated the car by seventy mile per hour in a split second. The car exploded from the
rear back, the engine block blew threw the front of the car and ended up traveling 200ft
further then any other of the flaming debris before coming to a rest in the center of the
road.

A few moments later, Redline Fox glided his Piranha slowly through the still
smoldering wreckage being careful not to run over any of the extremely sharp and hot
scrap metal. He eyed the scene with a slight apathy, this sort of thing he was getting used
to. The violence, the destruction. If he hadn?t gotten used to it, he would be dead by now.
He picked the CB mic out of the cradle and turned the frequency to a AVG outpost
frequency.

Redline Fox spoke slowly and evenly ,?This is Redline Fox, to AVG come back. Repeat
Redline Fox to...?

A jovial voice came back over the CB, ?Roger Redline Fox, this is Fatboy. How?s it
ridden Kid? Got something to report??

Redline Fox smiled slightly. Fatboy was, well fat, and middle aged. But he had that jolly
fat man image about him and had helped Fox out before in the AVG garages while he was
working on his car.

?Yeah Fatboy, I?ve just killed a yellow Picard Jackrabbit on 412 slash 270...I think. I?m
about halfway between the intersection of 283 and Guymon. Might want to get a truck out
here to clean up the mess, engine block sitten right in the middle of the road. Don?t want
any normals runnen themselves into a ditch.?

Fatboy came back, ?Any idea who they where??

Redline Fox, ?No. They almost ran me off the road, then just started shooten, so I shot
back.?

Fatboy, ?Understood RLF, no worries then, sometimes you just don?t gots da time to ask
questions. Clean up crew is on the way. Oh yeah, can you meet up in Raton New Mexico
In a few hours? The Navajo are holding some sort festival this evening and have invited
any Vigilantes to it. Don?t ask me why or what its supposed to be. Long drive for ya I bet,
but it might be worthwhile, few big shots going to meet up then drive out.?

Redline Fox, ?Alright, I?ll be there. Not like I have anywhere else to be.?

Fatboy, ?Good good, will be good to see you. Now best you be getting out of there, Over
and Out.?

Redline Fox, ?Out.?

Redline Fox regarded the wreckage one last time before turning the car west
towards New Mexico. Meanwhile, Fatboy was on a secure wire line to the AVG base,
reporting on Redline Fox?s information. The record keeper on the other end read the
information while pulling Redline?s file from the shelf. He took a stamp from his desk and
marked the image of a Picard Jackrabbit and the current date and time on Redline?s kill
page. The record keeper noted that the first page was starting to get full, a new page
would be needed soon.

Fin