Chapter Thirteen
The scene was a cacophony of chaos—screams, gunfire, and the pounding bass of the rave's music still blaring in the background. The once-packed roller rink was quickly emptying, but the frantic rush of bodies only made the situation more dangerous. Vulpes darted behind a toppled vending machine, her sharp eyes scanning the room for opportunities. Psychedelic’s wild firing was chewing through her ammo, but Vulpes knew the goons would close the gap soon if she didn’t act.
“Come on, Vulpes!” Psychedelic shouted over the din, her voice carrying a sing-song mockery. “I threw this whole shindig just for you, and you’re hiding? That’s just rude!”
The tommy gun chattered to life again, sending a burst of brightly colored tracer rounds pinging off the vending machine. Vulpes grimaced, crouching lower as shards of metal and glass rained down around her. Psychedelic’s aim was erratic, but it was only a matter of time before one of her stray bullets hit someone—or her.
Vulpes’ mind raced. She needed to neutralize Psychedelic, but not at the cost of endangering the panicked ravers still fleeing the scene. The armed thugs were closing in, their neon-painted weapons making them impossible to miss. A direct confrontation was out of the question—she’d be outnumbered and pinned down in moments.
“Think, Coraline,” she muttered to herself. Her eyes fell on a cluster of abandoned rave props—a smoke machine, some thick coils of wire, and a few stage lights dangling precariously from the ceiling. An idea began to form.
Pulling a compact grappling hook from her belt, she aimed for the exposed beams above and fired. The device zipped upward, anchoring securely, and Vulpes launched herself into the air just as another spray of bullets tore through her previous cover. Swinging toward the stage, she twisted midair and released the line, landing gracefully behind the pile of rave props.
Psychedelic’s eyes lit up with delight as she spotted her. “There you are! Running won’t save you, darling. You’ll dance to my tune eventually!”
“Let’s see if you can keep up,” Vulpes muttered as she worked the smoke machine and the nearby console that affected the lighting. The machine roared to life, pumping out a dense, blinding haze while the lights flashed erratically, creating a chaotic strobe effect that disoriented the room.
Psychedelic’s laughter rang out, but it was tinged with frustration. “Ooh, I dig it foxy lady”
Using the smoke as cover, Vulpes darted toward one of the goons pushing through the crowd. A swift strike to the back of the knees with her baton sent him sprawling, and she quickly disarmed him, tossing his neon-painted shotgun out of reach. Another thug turned toward her, raising a bat covered in fluorescent spikes, but she ducked under his swing and delivered a precise elbow to his solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him.
The smoke was thick, and the strobe lights made it nearly impossible to see clearly. Psychedelic’s voice echoed through the haze, her tone both gleeful and manic. “Isn’t this fun, Vulpes? The chaos, the music, the energy! This is the Truth I was talking about—you can feel it, can’t you?”
Vulpes ignored the taunts, her focus razor-sharp as she moved through the haze, systematically taking down Psychedelic’s goons one by one. But she knew she couldn’t keep this up forever. Psychedelic was unpredictable and dangerous, and if she managed to reload, the stakes would rise dramatically.
She needed to end this, and fast.
Psychedelic peered through the smoke and flashing lights trying to spot something to shoot at, lowering her sunglasses a little and her eyes seeking any sign of the Vulpes. There was a sharp crack and she winced as a baton struck her wrist causing her to release one of her hands on the tommy gun.
"Ow, no fair!" she snarled as a length of cable snapped around the tommy gun from the fog and yanked the weapon out of her hands. "My new party toy!"
Psychedelic stomped her roller-skated foot in frustration, the flashing lights illuminating her glittering jumpsuit as she pouted theatrically. “Rude! Just rude!” she shrieked into the haze, her voice echoing through the chaotic rink.
She spun around, her hands curling into fists as she scanned the fog for any sign of movement. “You think you’re clever, don’t you, Vulpes? But you can’t steal my spotlight! This is my show!”
A shadow flickered in the corner of her vision, and she lunged toward it, her roller skates screeching against the floor. But as she swung a wildly improvised kick, she hit nothing but empty air. A crack from a hard kick came from the opposite direction, grazing her thigh and throwing her off balance.
“Ah! You little sneak!” Psychedelic hissed, wobbling but catching herself with a dramatic flourish. “Alright, Foxy, if you wanna play hide-and-seek, I’ll play along.”
She reached into her jacket, pulling out a small device—a garishly painted flare gun adorned with stickers of peace signs and smiley faces. “Let’s light this place up, shall we?” she giggled, firing the flare into the ceiling. The bright red light burst through the haze, casting eerie, shifting shadows across the rink.
“There! Nowhere to hide now, foxy lady!” Psychedelic cried triumphantly, spinning in place and flinging her arms out wide.
From the fog, Vulpes’s calm voice rang out. “You talk too much, Sinclair.”
Psychedelic gasped, turning sharply toward the sound, but Vulpes was already on the move. She emerged from the haze, her yellow lenses catching the flare’s glow as she launched a spinning kick aimed at Psychedelic’s midsection.
Psychedelic barely managed to dodge, stumbling backward on her skates and grabbing a nearby chair for balance. “That’s more like it!” she cackled, hurling the chair in Vulpes’s direction.
Vulpes ducked smoothly, the chair clattering harmlessly to the ground. “You’re out of your league, Lyra,” she said coldly, advancing step by step. “You’re not fighting students or thugs anymore.”
Psychedelic snarled, her manic glee fading for a split second as frustration bubbled to the surface. Then, as if snapping back into character, she grinned wide, pulling another surprise from her jacket: a small bottle filled with a swirling, iridescent liquid.
“Oh, Foxy,” she purred, her grin stretching unnaturally wide. “Who said I was fighting fair?” With a flick of her wrist, she hurled the bottle to the floor, where it shattered, releasing a vivid cloud of gas that shimmered and sparkled in the air.
Vulpes’s lenses adjusted instantly, but even so, the sudden burst of colour and light was disorienting. Psychedelic used the moment to skate past her, her laughter echoing like a warped record.
“Catch me if you can, darling!” Psychedelic sang, skating toward the centre of the rink, her voice dripping with mockery. “Our date night has only just started!”
Vulpes snapped her gas mask into place and rushed after psychedelic, Lyra was no match for her in a close fight or so Vulpes presumed if she could close the gap she could end this and her remaining goons would hopefully turn tail and get lost in the escaping crowd.
As Vulpes drew close Psychedelic drew what looked like a paint ball gun from her hip and fired, Vulpes instinctively brought up her cape to block and as the paint splattered against her cape the reaction that followed was horrifying the paintballs were loaded with some kind of acid that ate holes in her armoured cape.
Vulpes gritted her teeth as she inspected the damage to her cape, the acrid smell of the acid wafting up as it sizzled through the fabric. "Great," she muttered, her voice muffled by the gas mask. "That’s new."
Psychedelic whirled around, skating backward with a wild grin, waving the paintball gun in the air. "You like it? Just a little something I whipped up for our special night together!" She fired again, the paintballs zipping through the air with unnerving accuracy. Each one splattered against the floor, hissing and smoking as the acid burned through the rink’s surface.
Vulpes dodged and weaved, her movements precise as she kept to the edges of the rink. She couldn’t afford to let that stuff touch her suit—or worse, her skin. Psychedelic’s laughter echoed, manic and taunting, as she skated in loops, firing off more shots.
"You know, I really should thank you, Vulpes!" Psychedelic called out, her voice rising over the chaos. "If it weren’t for you, I’d still be boring old Lyra Sinclair, chained to a desk and living in grayscale! You showed me the truth—and look at me now! I’m a masterpiece!"
"You're delusional, Lyra," Vulpes shot back, vaulting over a low rail to avoid a splatter of acid. "You’ve turned yourself into a danger to everyone around you. This ends now."
Psychedelic stopped abruptly, spinning on her skates to face Vulpes with a dramatic flourish. "Oh, Foxy," she said, her tone mockingly sweet. "You don’t get it, do you? I’m the real hero, saving everyone from their drab little world chained to the whims of the rich and powerful and the social constructs of justice, morality and ethical responsibility!"
She fired again, this time aiming higher. The paintballs splattered against the walls, the acid dripping down dangerously close to some of the fleeing ravers. Vulpes’s jaw clenched as she rushed forward, using the distraction to close the gap.
With a swift motion, she flung a Bolas toward Psychedelic’s skates, the cord wrapping around one of the wheels. Psychedelic yelped as she stumbled, nearly losing her balance, but instead of falling, she used the momentum to spin herself out of the line.
"Nice try!" Psychedelic giggled, tossing the paintball gun aside as it clicked empty. "But you’ll have to do better than that, darling!"
Vulpes surged forward, determined to end this. She reached for her baton, but Psychedelic was ready, pulling a handful of glittering powder from her pocket and flinging it into the air. It sparkled like fireworks in the dim light, creating a dazzling distraction that forced Vulpes to shield her eyes.
As the glitter settled, Psychedelic was gone, skating toward the back of the rink where her remaining goons were regrouping. "Catch me if you can, foxy lady!" she sang, her laughter trailing behind her like a neon streak.
Four goons stood between Vulpes and the escaping psychedelic who was kicking off her roller skates to run out of a side exit. Vulpes didn't have time to waste fighting them; she dashed forward hurling tear gas grenades into the thugs. She had to stop the real mastermind behind this not to waste time on her muscles.
The tear gas grenades clattered to the floor, hissing as they released thick, choking clouds that quickly enveloped the four goons. They coughed and cursed, staggering blindly as they clawed at their eyes and throats. Vulpes didn’t even pause to admire her handiwork; she vaulted over the disoriented thugs, her focus fixed on Psychedelics retreating figure.
"Keep up the good work, boys!" Psychedelic called back with a wave as she discarded her roller skates and bolted through the side exit. "Momma’s got places to be!"
Vulpes burst through the thinning smoke, her boots pounding against the floor as she closed the gap. She kicked open the side exit just in time to see Psychedelic sprinting across a dimly lit alley, her colourful jumpsuit shimmering in the moonlight like an erratic beacon.
"You’re not getting away this time, Lyra!" Vulpes shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos.
Psychedelic glanced back with a cheeky grin. "Oh, sweetie, you know I love a good chase!"
She turned sharply, vaulting over a dumpster with surprising agility. Vulpes pursued, her body moving on muscle memory despite the fatigue gnawing at her. Her legs burned, her injuries from the week screaming in protest, but she forced herself onward. She couldn’t let Psychedelic escape—not with the lives Psychedelic had already endangered and whatever chaos she would plan next.
The alley opened into a sprawling parking lot, scattered with abandoned vehicles and littered with debris. Psychedelic practically flew through the open door of a car that was waiting for her and into the driver's seat. It was a muscle car straight out of the seventies, a powerfully built predator on wheels painted in garish hues with mind twisting patterns, flowers and hearts. Vulpes set her jaw and ran towards the where she parked the Silver Kit as Psychedelic peeled out of the parking lot.
The parking lot came alive with the deafening roar of Psychedelic’s engine as her garishly painted muscle car tore out of its spot, tires squealing against the asphalt. The hypnotic swirl of hearts, flowers, and mind-bending patterns on the car’s exterior made it look like a fever dream brought to life, a perfect reflection of its driver’s chaotic soul.
Vulpes dashed toward the Silver Kit, her sleek Jaguar already growling to life as she slid into the driver’s seat. The engine purred for a brief moment before erupting into a mechanical snarl as she tore out of her hiding spot and onto the road, the Silver Kit surging forward like a predator locking onto its prey.
Psychedelic jammed a tape labeled Best Hits of the Sixties and Seventies into the deck of her car and cranked the volume to eleven. The wailing vocals of Jefferson Airplane flooded the cabin as she leaned back in the seat, one hand on the wheel and the other drumming along to the beat on the dashboard.
She checked the rearview mirror and grinned as the Silver Kit’s lights closed in. “Ooh, my foxy lady does like when I play hard to get!” she cooed, her manic energy matching the throbbing beat of the music. Psychedelic spun the wheel hard, the muscle car fishtailing wildly before rocketing down a side street.
Vulpes tightened her grip on the wheel, her yellow lenses glowing faintly in the dim light. “You’re not slipping away this time,” she muttered, the Silver Kit taking the turn with razor-sharp precision, its reinforced tires gripping the asphalt like claws.
The chase was on.
The sleek Silver Kit, all smooth lines and understated power, stood out in sharp contrast to the garish beast of a muscle car it tailed through the outskirts of Toronto. Where the Silver Kit exuded precision and control, Psychedelic’s ride was a riot of chaotic colours and raw, unrestrained aggression. The two vehicles couldn’t have been more different, yet in this moment, they were locked in a deadly dance, the predator chasing the untamed beast.
Psychedelic whooped as she swerved into oncoming traffic, her wild laughter blending with the music blaring from her speakers. "Catch me if you can, darling!" she hollered, leaning out the window to blow a mocking kiss at the Silver Kit.
Vulpes gritted her teeth, her focus unwavering as she manoeuvred the Silver Kit with calculated precision. A sudden oncoming car forced her to swerve, her Jaguar skimming the edge of a parked delivery truck with barely an inch to spare. The muscle car ahead barreled through the chaos, its brute power forcing other vehicles to veer wildly off the road.
Psychedelic slammed her hand against the horn in rhythm with the music, her grin never fading. "Oh, you can try, foxy, but you’ll never catch this rainbow!" she sang, yanking the wheel hard to send her car into a near-spin before it rocketed down a narrow alley.
Vulpes followed, her headlights cutting through the darkness of the alley as she matched the reckless manoeuvre. The Silver Kit’s engine growled, its every move precise and deliberate, contrasting with the muscle car’s sheer, chaotic fury. She knew she couldn’t let Psychedelic’s erratic driving push her into making mistakes—this was a battle of endurance as much as speed.
The chase carried them out of the alley and onto an industrial road lined with warehouses and scattered debris. Psychedelic’s car smashed through a stack of wooden pallets, sending splinters flying as she cackled with glee. "Careful, Vulpes! Don’t lose that pretty paint job!"
Vulpes didn’t flinch as the Silver Kit weaved through the debris with mechanical grace, closing the distance inch by inch. Her eyes darted to the dashboard, her mind racing through options. Psychedelic’s driving was erratic but effective; she needed to find a way to predict her next move and shut her down before someone got hurt—or worse.
This wasn’t just a chase anymore. It was a battle of wills, and neither was ready to back down.
The Silver Kit purred like a predator waiting to strike as Vulpes calculated her next move. Psychedelic's car was powerful and fast, but its weight and lack of precision could be its downfall. Vulpes had seen enough police chase tactics to know what might work here—if she could execute it perfectly.
She adjusted her grip on the wheel, her eyes narrowing on the garish muscle car swerving just ahead. The PIT maneuver. If she could hit the rear corner of Psychedelic's car just right, she could force it into a spin. It was risky—at these speeds, anything could go wrong. But it might be her only chance to end this chase before it spiraled further out of control.
Psychedelic hollered out the window, oblivious to the tactical thoughts racing through Vulpes' mind. "C’mon, foxy! You’ve got to do better than this! Don’t you want to dance?"
Vulpes couldnt hear the taunts over the roar of wind and engine so she had to wonder why Psychedelic was even yelling at her, in any case she let her focus narrow to a razor’s edge. She drew the Silver Kit closer, lining up her car's front corner with the rear wheel of Psychedelic’s vehicle. Timing was everything. One misstep, and either of them—or worse, an innocent bystander—could pay the price.
She closed the distance, her heart pounding as she angled the Silver Kit just slightly. Then, with a sharp, precise turn of the wheel, she struck.
The Silver Kit’s reinforced bumper clipped the rear quarter of Psychedelic’s car with a metallic crunch. The impact sent the muscle car fishtailing wildly, its rear wheels screeching as it struggled for traction. Vulpes gritted her teeth, holding her breath as she watched the chaos unfold.
Inside the muscle car, Psychedelic let out a surprised yelp, gripping the wheel tightly. "Oh, what a naughty little smack!" she cried, half in anger, half in delight. She fought the spin with every ounce of her strength, the tires screaming against the pavement as the car twisted and jerked. For a moment, it looked like she might regain control.
But the car's heavy frame betrayed her. It veered hard, slamming into a stack of shipping containers with a deafening crash. The impact sent sparks flying, the garish paint job scraped and dented as the car came to a smoking halt.
Vulpes slowed the Silver Kit, her breathing steady but her mind racing. She didn’t let herself relax yet. Psychedelic was unpredictable, and there was no telling if the crash had actually subdued her—or if she was about to emerge from the wreckage with another surprise up her sleeve.
"Its over Lyra" stated the Vulpes as she moved from the Kit towards the wrecked muscle car slipping a handful of throwing stars into her left palm. The door of the muscle car flew open with a kick and Psychedelic whose face bore a small bleeding cut aimed at Vulpes with a pair of revolvers screaming "Our date isn't over until I say its over Foxy lady!"
Vulpes barely had time to dive behind a stack of barrels as Psychedelic opened fire, the dual revolvers barking in rapid succession. The bullets ricochet off metal and pavement, sparks flying as Psychedelic let out a gleeful cackle.
"You really know how to keep a girl on her toes!" Psychedelic taunted, spinning one of the revolvers theatrically before firing again. "But if you wanted a kiss goodnight, you could’ve just asked!"
Vulpes gritted her teeth, clutching the throwing stars tightly in her palm. "This isn’t a game, Lyra!" she shouted, trying to position herself for a clear shot. "You’re endangering innocent people, and it’s going to stop tonight."
Psychedelic rolled her eyes dramatically, crouching behind the dented muscle car for cover. "Innocent people? Oh, please! Everyone loves a little chaos, they just don’t have the guts to admit it! I’m giving them what they secretly crave—a freedom from their boring slavish little lives!"
Vulpes took a deep breath, steadying herself. She had to end this quickly before Psychedelic’s wild shooting caused collateral damage. Moving with precision, she darted out from cover and hurled a throwing star with practised accuracy. It struck one of Psychedelic’s revolvers, sending it clattering to the ground.
"Rude!" Psychedelic pouted, dropping into a roll and coming up with her second revolver trained on Vulpes. "But don’t think that’ll slow me down, sweetheart!"
Before Psychedelic could fire again, Vulpes closed the gap, rushing forward with a burst of speed. She struck the revolver with a sharp upward swing of her armoured fist, sending it flying into the shadows. Psychedelic stumbled back, momentarily disarmed.
"I said this is over" repeated Vulpes. Psychedelic's face twisted in anger and she went something on her belt but Vulpes slammed her foot down on Psychedelics hand causing her to yelp out "Ooh, like it rough do you foxy lady?"
Vulpes kept her boot firmly on Psychedelic’s hand, glaring down at her. “It’s over, Lyra. No more. You’re done.”
Psychedelic twisted and shot out her free hand with something from her belt but the Vulpes had learned to expect the unexpected and she snapped back just in time to dodge a crackling taser. The Vulpes answered psychedelics lunge with a sharp knee that struck her jaw that knocked the lights out of her eyes sending her falling limply to the ground. Vulpes grunted and pulled the cuffs from her belt. She had meant what she said, this was over plain and simple.
Psychedelic lay sprawled on the ground, her manic energy extinguished by the sharp impact of Vulpes’ knee. The garish patterns of her clothes seemed dull now under the dim streetlights, her once-defiant smirk slackened in unconsciousness.
Vulpes knelt down, her movements quick but careful, and secured the cuffs around Psychedelic’s wrists. She let out a sharp exhale, her body aching from the chase and fight. This wasn’t her first takedown, but it was by far her most chaotic.
“I’m sorry Lyra, sorry I let you become this” Vulpes murmured, her voice heavy with finality.
She stood, dragging Psychedelic’s limp form to her feet. The hum of sirens in the distance reassured her—backup was on the way. She glanced down at Psychedelic, her manic mask gone, replaced by the fragile, human remnants of a mind shattered by her own creation.
Vulpes sighed, pulling out her communicator to call in the authorities. As she did, she cast one more glance at the once-brilliant scientist now turned harbinger of destruction.
"Let’s hope you find help in a cell," Vulpes muttered. "Because this city doesn’t need another monster."
The cost of the fight became painfully clear as the adrenaline ebbed away, leaving Vulpes acutely aware of the toll the night had taken. Her entire body ached with a symphony of bruises, strains, and grazes she hadn’t even noticed during the conflict. Every movement sent sharp reminders of just how close this battle had been.
Her armour—her trusted second skin—was in the worst shape she had ever seen it. Acid burns had eaten through parts of the fabric, bullet impacts had left jagged tears, and there were rips from her frantic dives and scrambles for cover. The once-pristine suit looked like it had been through a warzone, and in many ways, it had.
She stood over Psychedelic’s unconscious form, her shoulders sagging from exhaustion. She had won. Not cleanly, not without pain, but she had won. And that was what mattered. Toronto was safe from Lyra Sinclair’s sensless machinations, at least for now.
"At what cost, though?" Vulpes muttered to herself, running a hand over her frayed cape. The weight of her choices pressed against her chest, but she forced herself to push those thoughts aside. There would be time to think about the consequences later. For now, the city had one less threat to face, and she had a long recovery ahead.
The sound of tires screeching and car doors slamming signalled the arrival of the police. Vulpes stepped back, vanishing into the shadows, the Silver Kit speeding off into the darkness as the officers approached to take Psychedelic into custody. For now, she could breathe easier knowing that Psychedelic had been contained—at least for tonight.
