[color=7ea7d8]"Alright, lass![/color]" Lucca says as he turns his bike towards the car. [color=7ea7d8]"Follow me, aye? I've a feeling I can see the path for you."[/color]

There was a strange sort of beauty in watching all of those drones fall out of the sky. It reminded him of this movie he had watched once, an apocalyptic sort of one, and there had been flaming rocks that fell down in slow motion in one of the scenes, and it had been beautiful in a devastating way.

And as bullets whizzed past them, Lucca grimaced as one caught him in the ribs. Unfortunately, it didn't come out of the other side, and he took a moment to take off his shirt and dig it out with his claws, flinging the bullet to the pavement. He snarled a gaelic curse and wiped his blood on his black jeans. If he got shot again, it wouldn't matter as long as they didn't hit anything vital and he could find someplace where he could heal for an hour or two.

He'd go back to the hotel for his body armor, later. Right now, though, he twisted the throttle on his bike and began to speed off, hoping that the car full of people would follow. He zigged and zagged in order to be a harder target to shoot at.

But [i]fuck[/i] he just got shot again, the bullet catching his ear and part of his cheek, but thankfully it didn't get lodged in his face. He shook his head, and his longish black hair got stuck in the blood. He raced down the bridge.
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(Sorry it's so short.)