The "Mini Mic: Neon Resonance Tour" bus was a rolling palace of teal leather, LED strips, and—to Rebecca’s horror—a built-in Taco Bell nacho dispenser.
"I can't believe I agreed to this," Rebecca groaned, trying to secure her tactical crates in the luggage bay. "I’m an engineer, Carrie. Not a roadie."
"You’re not a roadie, Becca! You’re my Technical Director and Head of Security," Carrie chirped, skipping down the aisle in a sparkly tracksuit. "Besides, you've seen my shows from the front row. Don't you want to see the magic from the inside?"
"The 'magic' involves me sleeping in a bunk that smells like your strawberry hairspray," Rebecca muttered, but she couldn't hide the small smile. This was the first time she’d actually joined Carrie on the road instead of just meeting her at the venue.
The Biker Encounter
Three hours into the desert highway, the peaceful hum of the road was shattered by the roar of heavy engines.
VROOM. VROOM.
Rebecca’s ears (the real ones) twitched. "Multiple high-displacement engines approaching from the rear. Tactical formation."
She looked out the back window. A dozen bikers in spiked leather jackets, riding chrome-heavy choppers, were swerving around the bus. One of them, a massive guy with a skull-painted helmet, pulled up alongside the driver’s window and began banging on the glass, gesturing wildly.
"They're trying to hijack the bus!" Carrie gasped, her neon eyes sparking. "On my first tour?! Do they want my autographs that badly?!"
"They’re trying to force us off the road," Rebecca growled, already lunging for her "Emergency Suit-Up" case. "Not on my watch. Carrie, get to the back. Lock the soundproof door!"
Bunny vs. The Road Warriors
Rebecca hit the release. The "Bunny" armor hissed as it locked onto her limbs. She didn't have time for a full deployment, so she went "Light-Tactical"—helmet, gauntlets, and boots.
She kicked the roof hatch open and vaulted onto the top of the moving bus, the wind whipping her hair.
"ATTENTION UNIDENTIFIED BIKERS!" Rebecca’s voice boomed through her helmet’s external speakers. "YOU ARE INTERFERING WITH A LICENSED IDOL TRANSPORT! DISENGAGE OR FACE KINETIC NEUTRALIZATION!"
She raised her gauntlet, charging a non-lethal pulse. The lead biker looked up, his eyes wide behind his goggles. He wasn't reaching for a gun; he was pointing frantically behind the bus, his mouth moving in a scream that the wind swallowed.
"What is he—" Rebecca turned around.
The Real Threat
Far down the highway, the horizon wasn't flat anymore. A massive, multi-legged Sand-Crab Behemoth, the size of a small skyscraper, was skittering across the dunes. Every time its claws hit the sand, the highway vibrated. It wasn't chasing the bikers for fun—it was eating the asphalt, and the bus was the biggest "snack" on the road.
The bikers weren't trying to rob them. They were trying to get the bus to speed up.
"Oh," Rebecca whispered, her HUD rapidly recalculating the threat level from 'Petty Theft' to 'Existential Crisis.' "That is... significantly larger than a biker gang."
The lead biker yelled again, finally audible over the wind: "DRIVE, YOU IDIOTS! IT’S HUNGRY!"
Rebecca tapped her comms. "Carrie! Forget the door! Tell the driver to hit the nitrous! We have a Narrative Inconsistency the size of a mountain behind us!"
ns216.73.216.141da2
and then Add to home screen.