We won't be caught up

The setting is planet Earth, the city of Chicago ________________________________________ Soon, Flora felt the vehicle she was in come to a stop. She was pulled out of the car and set on the ground, then hoisted over someone's shoulder and carried somewhere. From the sound of footsteps, she could tell that she was being carried into a building and then up a set of stairs. Eventually, the person carrying her stopped. A heavy door creaked open, and after a few steps, the person set her on her feet. The heavy door creaked closed again, and a bolt was locked from the outside. Flora removed the black bag from her head and looked around. It was a small room with no windows. There was a bed with a mattress, a sofa pillow, and a blanket. Next to it was a table with a carafe of water and a plate of fruit. "A five-star hotel can't compare to this splendor," the girl thought ironically. She walked around the room, sat down on a cot, took off her shoes, and lay down. It wasn't particularly comfortable, as she still had her handcuffs on. Well, one question remained: the purpose of her kidnapping. The most common reasons were ransom and revenge from competitors. In any case, she would never know. One thing was clear: if she was being treated with such comfort, at least they didn't intend to kill her. At least not yet. A few hours later, five bikers left a garage on the outskirts of the city. The roar of their engines echoed through the area, and they meticulously inspected every Limburger property, leaving behind piles of twisted metal and a battered security force. However, their search and interrogations proved fruitless. By the end of the day, they had completed only a third of the tycoon's properties, but the girl had vanished without a trace. They were forced to return empty-handed. "Come on, we'll keep looking tomorrow and find her," Rimfire tried to cheer everyone up, noticing that everyone's mood was gloomy. "I'm afraid to assume the worst," Trottle said. "No, if they wanted to kill her, they would have done it right away," Cross said hotly. "There were armed guards at the orphanage. They wouldn't take that risk. Maybe they moved her away and..." Modo suggested. "No, I think she's alive, and we should keep looking," Cross said, heading back to his bike. "Calm down, man, believe me, we're all worried. But it's pointless to look for her now. Limburger must have hidden her well," Trottle said, putting his hand on the man's shoulder. "Do what you want. I'm going to continue my search tomorrow, with or without you," Cross said stubbornly. And he kept his word, the search lasted a couple more days, but, as on the first day, it was unsuccessful. And this was alarming in the soul of the young biker. However, not only he went on a quest. A black Cadillac was driving around the city, in the same places as the biker mice, and, arriving at the next object, sometimes found there a complete mess. This surprised the Martian mice, as in some warehouses there was also a mess. There was only one old warehouse that hadn't been used in a long time, although it was well-guarded and located on the outskirts of the city. After breaking down the gates, the biker mice opened fire. The fierce resistance of the mercenaries gave them hope that their goal was near. "Cross, search the other rooms," he heard Trottle order over the sound of gunfire and explosions. He rode his bike down the corridor of another room nearby, shooting at the mercenaries in all directions and breaking down doors along the way. One of the doors was particularly heavy and stubborn, refusing to give way. The girl had been imprisoned for two days, and she had been well fed, but she had not been told the purpose of her abduction, nor had she been asked to do anything, such as sending a message or something similar, and Flora was beginning to feel anxious. On the third day, she heard a faint noise, followed by a loud crash, which grew closer to her cell. Suddenly, the door began to shake under heavy blows. Flora retreated to the far wall, away from the door, sensing danger. Despite the racket, the door didn't give way. Then there was the sound of gunshots and more racket. The door burst open and a biker rode into the room. Flora looked at the new danger with a haunted look. The biker looked at her for a couple of seconds. Cross sighed with relief when, after having to shoot back at the bandits with the timely help of Patron and Karabina and storm the room, he found her. The guy pulled a gun out of his hip holster and pointed it at her, glancing at her cuffed hands. The girl's heart stopped in fear. "So that's how it is... They're just going to kill me," she thought, turning pale and staring at her executioner. "That's the one who's been following me all this time," she recognized him. Flora backed up until she hit a wall. "Put your hands up," he said suddenly. The girl flinched at the sound of his voice, but she obeyed, raising her still-handcuffed hands above in front of myself. "Higher," the biker ordered. She raised her hands above her head. A gunshot rang out, and the chain of the handcuffs shattered into small pieces. Flora winced involuntarily. "Come here, we have to hurry," he said, holding out his hand as he heard a noise in the hallway. The bandits were flocking into the building, making it difficult for them to escape. Flora was frozen with fear and couldn't move. Biker. His heart was pounding in his ears, and beads of sweat were forming on his temples. It wasn't just fear; it was an all-consuming terror. He realized that she was terrified of the gun and was in shock. He put it back in his holster, got off the bike, walked over to her, and, taking her arm rather roughly, led her to the bike and put her on the back. He got on the bike himself, taking the handlebars. "Hold on tight," he said, and he turned the gas pedal hard. The girl clung to his leather jacket. They flew out into the corridor, and the bandits who had tried to block their path scattered in terror to get out of the way, while still shooting at the tires. Fortunately, they were unable to damage the bike. However, as soon as they left the building, three motorcyclists gave chase. "We're being chased!" she shouted in fear, trying to shout over the noise in her ears. "Don't worry, they won't catch up with us!" — he replied, stepping on the gas. The car jerked forward slightly, and Flora clung to the biker, afraid of falling, and closed her eyes, holding her breath. She didn't see the black Cadillac and Grand Cherokee jeep that arrived a few minutes later at the warehouse where she was being held, or the terrified Chumazoid being dragged out of one of the cars. Walter followed him out and looked around. The complete destruction indicated that they were too late. After searching all the buildings, they found the room where the girl was supposedly being held. "So she's been moved to another location... As expected," the bodyguard thought. Their activities had clearly not gone unnoticed, but it remained a mystery who else was searching for her. He could only hope that they were friends rather than enemies. The road was speeding away into the distance, and soon the pursuers were really behind. The girl slowly opened her eyes, looking at the rapidly changing landscape. Her hair was whipping around her face, and her heart was racing. She tried to figure out where she was being taken again, but she had a feeling they were far from the city. As she regained her composure, Flora looked at the biker's back. His dark, smoky hair hung down from under his helmet, just below his shoulders, and he had a broad build. Her gaze slid down his muscular thigh, where a holstered gun was strapped to it. Having lost his pursuers, Cross traveled a little more outside the city, trying to completely throw them off the trail. When he turned the throttle sharply and the car picked up speed, the girl instinctively snuggled closer to him, and her arms tightened around his waist. And he found himself definitely enjoying it. That's how to feel her touch and hug. When Cross was finally convinced that they were no longer being pursued, he returned to the city by detours. The outskirts of the city greeted them with dilapidated buildings and a deathly silence. Without slowing down, he aimed his bike at a ten-story building. As he approached, the girl's heart began to race. "We're going to crash!"!! She screamed and buried her face in his back. Cross just smiled to himself as he turned on the afterburners and felt the slight vibration as the jet engines came to life. At that moment, they were very close to the building. The car raced up the wall, speeding up rapidly. He came to a sudden stop on the roof, assuming that they would not be found here. Flora finally opened her eyes and was stunned. They were on the roof of a rather tall building. "We need to wait a while until our pursuers stop looking for us," he explained. The girl jumped off the bike, pulled his gun out of the holster on his hip, and pointed it at the biker. "Put your hands up, you bastard," she said in a trembling voice. The gun shook in her unsteady hands and was clearly too heavy for her. The motorcycle helmet hid his surprise and annoyance, because he had saved her, and now she was thanking him. However, Cross wasn't afraid that she would shoot him. After all, the girl probably didn't know how to handle a Martian weapon. The only thing he did was get off the bike and move away from it, fearing that the security system would activate and attack the girl as a potential threat. "Listen, let's calm down and discuss this," he said, taking a step towards her and raising his hands. "Discuss what?" Have you decided not to share the ransom with your accomplices? Flora guessed, moving back to a safe distance from him, not noticing that she was getting closer and closer to the edge of the slightly sloping roof. "What makes you think I'm on their side?" Cross asked in surprise. The girl kept a wary eye on him. "You followed me as soon as I arrived in town, climbed onto the balcony of my hotel room, shot at me at the mayor's reception, and brought me here to prevent me from escaping," the girl argued. "So that's how it is," Cross thought with annoyance, fully prepared for this turn of events. He noticed with horror that the girl was getting closer to the edge. "Flora, stop, or you'll fall," he warned. "I'm not buying into these cheap tricks," the girl said firmly, not lowering her weapon, but turning her head slightly to look away and verify his words. Cross took advantage of this, lunging forward and grabbing her by the arm, which held the gun, and throwing her down on the concrete roof. Flora felt the weight of his body on hers, and she realized once again how cunning he was. He squeezed her wrist with force, and she dropped the gun. "Don't you think that with all the things you've listed, you're still alive and unharmed? Do you think that if I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't have done it?" Cross said, pressing the struggling girl against the concrete with his full body. She looked at him, frozen, and their eyes met, although she had no idea that they were doing so. His face was concealed by a motorcycle helmet with a mirrored visor. The huge blue-green eyes that were so close were full of fear and disbelief, and it sent a chill through his body. It was the thing he had been most afraid of, and it had happened. "Flora, I'm not your enemy," Cross assured her. "I don't know that... Let me go," she said quietly. He stood up, helping her to her feet, and picked up her weapon. She still looked at him warily and tried to stay away from him. "What did you expect, that she'd throw her arms around you and thank you?" he sighed sadly. She turned away from him in silence, surveying the surroundings. Night was rapidly falling, and the roofs of the crumpled buildings were tinged with the sunset hues of pink, dark gray, and purple. The buildings around her looked as if they had been the site of intense fighting. The dilapidated structures were riddled with exposed rebar, broken windows, and in some cases, missing walls and ceilings. The rising wind caused her to shiver with cold. "You don't have to be afraid of me," he assured her. "How long are we going to be here?" she asked, a little irritably. "Until I'm completely sure that we're not being searched for," Cross replied. He peered anxiously into the distance, listening intently to the sounds around him. In the distance, he saw the glint of headlights, and his sensitive ears picked up the muffled sound of an engine. Whether they were his pursuers or not, he had to remain vigilant. The girl moved away from the edge of the roof and sat down on a concrete block, watching him. Her captor or rescuer looked quite picturesque. By his voice, he was probably no more than twenty years old. He was tall. A black leather jacket of a tight cut, which went down just below the waist, outlined the athletic silhouette of his figure. The trousers of a dense material clung to the casted hips and buttocks so that this part of his body was constantly in the eye. A hip holster on the right thigh. The knee pads are made of either plastic or metal, and the boots are high, with straps and metal tips on the toes. The hands are covered with leather gloves. "A mix of a cowboy and a biker," Flora decided with a slight smile. He felt her gaze on him and turned around. The girl looked away in time, as she thought, so that he would not notice that she was looking at him. Flora looked terribly tired. But despite this, he could not help but notice that the girl was quite attractive. Thin facial features, light with a slight peach tint skin. Blue-green eyes, which from all the experience seemed dark green, framed by a fan of black eyelashes. A light breeze played with her long, straight hair, which reached almost to her waist and was the color of pink pearls. Her clothes, which were wrinkled and stained in some places, did not detract from her overall appearance. Even in her current state and difficult situation, she was stunning. He approached her and sat down next to her. Cross remembered the first time he saw her, in the car. Her thoughtful gaze was fixed on a book. She seemed to have withdrawn into the world described in the book, which made her look mysterious and incredibly attractive. But what had happened back then still bothered him, and his indignation flared up again and again. Why had it happened that way? And now he was sitting next to her. There were so many things he wanted to say, maybe even accuse her of. But a lump stuck in his throat every time he looked at her face, which was shadowed with worry, sadness, and incredible fatigue. "I'm sorry about this," he could only say quietly, "but believe me, I didn't mean anything bad. That encounter in the city was a complete coincidence. My friend and I were just driving around." "Did you happen to be on the balcony?" she asked suspiciously. "No. Well, yes," he said, aware of the awkwardness of his explanation. "Bandits were climbing onto your balcony. I couldn't let them harm you." "Let me guess, you shot me to protect me at the mayor's reception," she said bitterly. "Yes, to protect," Cross said quietly, not knowing what else to say. "You know, I have some doubts about your methods of protection, and I prefer more traditional ones," the girl said firmly. "As strange as it may seem, it's true... I can't tell you everything, but you must believe me, I mean you no harm," he said. "I will believe in your good intentions when there is a good reason to do so," she said coldly, standing up and walking away from him. Night had long fallen on the city, and it was quite cold. The girl involuntarily shivered. "You're cold. Come here," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. Flora jumped as if she'd been stung. "Don't touch me!" Miss Deloren was indignant. "I'm not going to hurt you, so stop stay away from me," Cross replied with a hint of annoyance. "Then take me to a hotel. Or is that not part of your rescue plan?" she said sarcastically. The guy walked to the edge of the roof and looked down. It was quiet and dark. There was no sign of headlights or engine noise. Cross walked over to the bike, got on it, and waved at the girl. She shook her head vigorously. "I'm not getting on that crazy thing," she said, staring at the bike in fear and backing away. "What a whim," Cross sighed, dismounting from the bike. He approached the girl and easily lifted her into his arms. "What are you doing?" — She was indignant. He carried her silently to the bike and sat her down on the seat. "Do you want to walk down from here?" he asked half-mockingly. The girl stubbornly turned away, folding her arms across her chest. "I thought so," he said, sitting in front of her. He started the engine, and as soon as the car took off, the girl screamed and grabbed his jacket. "Hold on tight, no matter how uncomfortable it is," he said loudly, trying to overpower the engine noise. Flora's heart stopped when they drove over the edge of the roof at full speed, and for a moment, she watched herself fall freely. Then it was as if time had slowed down. The wheels slowly touched the wall, and there was a screeching sound as they plummeted to the ground. Flora's head was slightly dizzy. "The person who gave you the rights should be sentenced to death," she said. Cross laughed in response. They quickly reached the highway and made their way to the city center. He stopped the bike near the stone gates of the hotel. Flora dismounted from the bike and, after a brief thank-you to her rescuer, made her way to the hotel entrance. The hotel receptionist stared at her as if he had seen a ghost as he handed her the keys to her room. Flora went up to her room, took a shower, and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, leaving all her thoughts and worries for later, and now only sleep. After a fruitless search, Walter had no choice but to return to the hotel. He rushed upstairs as soon as the concierge said that Miss Flora had returned. He broke into her room and immediately went to the bedroom. She was asleep. Her blond hair was spread out on the pillow, and her regular breathing made it clear that she was fine and sound asleep. The man breathed a sigh of relief and sat down on the edge of the bed, still not believing that everything was over one way or another. He looked at the girl for a while, then checked to see if all the windows were closed, and left her room, leaving a couple of his colleagues outside the door. "You idiots, how could you have failed such a brilliant plan. All you had to do was keep her in that warehouse, ask for a ransom, and I, as an honest citizen who couldn't ignore such a tragedy, would have freed her and become the hero who saved our benefactress. The mayor would have given me Chicago himself, and I would have gladly accepted the gift and sent it to Plutark," Limburger said, pacing around his office in front of the Grease Pit, who was shaking with fear or stress. "And you're idiots, a bunch of dumb, good—for-nothing cretins!!! " he shouted. "Sorry, boss, but those biker mice... And her crazy bodyguards... And I'm not getting paid at all," the lumberjack mumbled incoherently. "Get out, you idiot!!!" Limburger shouted, emitting the characteristic stench of a Plutarkian. The grubby man hurriedly left the office of his angry boss. Cross was sitting on top of one of the dilapidated buildings near the garage, holding his guitar in his hands again. The hollow of the body rested against his thigh. His left hand was on the neck of the guitar, and his right hand was on the strings. By plucking the strings at specific frets and occasionally striking them with his fingers, while also switching the pickups, Cross was able to produce enchanting sounds that were long and drawn out. The melody that resonated throughout the area was a testament to the musician's inner peace. The conversation with Flora wasn't what he had expected, but it was still a conversation. Even though she wasn't very friendly, it didn't bother him too much. He managed to talk to her, even though there were still many questions he wanted to ask her. It gave him hope that this wouldn't be their last encounter.