Yelena

Something needs to be done about these damn police cars. "Give me a gun!" I yell as I climb into the back seat.

James tosses a pistol over to me. Not the best gun, but it'll do. I climb on top of the car through the sunroof, aiming my gun at the police car behind us.

The car swerves in between lanes, making it impossible to aim. "Stop swerving!"

"It's not exactly easy to dodge other cars while driving straight!" James yells. If I was driving, this wouldn't be a problem.

He's so annoying. I roll my eyes and try my best to aim for the driver. Bam! I shoot him right in the forehead, causing the car to swerve off of the road and into a nearby building.

A second police car pulls over to help the unluckier officers. With a laugh, I climb back down and slump in the back seat. "Phew. That was eas-"

I accidentally dodge a bullet shot at me through the rear glass. What the... I look behind me to see the third police car speeding up while weaving through cars to get closer to us.

"Do you have any other guns!?" I yell, looking at James. He glares at me through the rear-view mirror.

"I don't have a whole variety of guns. This isn't grand theft auto, woman!" With a groan, I turn to the back window and kick it open.

"You could've just asked me to roll it down!" He yells, merging lanes. "I don't have time for communication. This isn't the Fate of the Furious."

I lean my torso outside of the window, making it harder for the gunman to aim at me. "Swerve!" I yell.

"But you're hanging-"

"SWERVE!" I yell, dodging another bullet. As commanded, James swerves the car slightly, making it nearly impossible for him to aim.

Not for me, though.

I shoot the car's front tire, making it come to an almost complete stop before shooting the driver in the head.

I climb back into the passenger's seat, out of breath. "That's how you do it." I huff. "You're so messy." Is he being serious?

"I'm messy? You just failed that whole attempt to temporarily clear your name." I say as we drive down a long road.

"Whatever," He mumbles under his breath. "Oh, yeah. Can you switch my radio channel back, please?" He asks, tossing the radio in my lap.

Perfect timing. "Explain to me your interest and connection to my brother's death," I say, fidgeting with the radio.

He tries to ignore me and continues to drive, but after a few minutes we run into extreme traffic. "Ha! Now you have to talk to me." I tease, looking at him obnoxiously.

One way or another, I'm going to figure him out. "I need to find whoever your brother's murderer is and I just thought you'd want to be a part of it."

"For what reason? I keep up with the news and they're not looking into my brother's case right now." I say, turning to look at him.

"...Let's just say my suspect is someone I wouldn't mind putting in jail, and your brother was pretty important."

He refuses the look at me, so I turn my gaze to the rearview mirror. His eyebrows are crinkled together. He's lying. But about what?

"Soo... what's the big origin story?" He asks, changing the subject. You really wanna know?

"Long story short, my mom died at ten, and my dad got stuck in North Korea a few years ago on a mission," I say with a shrug, causing an awkward silence in the car.

James put a hand on my shoulder but I take it hand and place the radio on his palm. I'm not in need of any emotional support. Especially not from him. Besides, what kind of Disney shit was that?

"I don't need your pity. I don't remember my mom much and my dad put me through literal hell. If he taught me anything, it's to cut any strings attached along with emotions."

Before he could say anything, James's radio turns on.

"Code yellow! Mafia agents Anastasia Borisyuk and Viktor Rum have broken into the P.D.!"

"Is that something we need to worry about?"

"Shoot them on sight!"

"Probably not, but I think it's best to check in anyway." In a rush, I climb on James's lap—despite his protests—and stomp on the gas.

"Whoa! What are you-" I make a sharp U-turn. "I'm taking a little detour."

James clutches the armrest. We race through the New York night sky, bright lights zooming past us.

"You're not going where I think you're going, are you?" James asks as we pass the previously crashed police car.

"Depends. Where do you think we're going?" Eventually, I spot four police cars surrounding something and lean out the window, gun drawn.

I've been waiting for an excuse to blow up a car. I wish Viktor could see me now!

CRASH!