[center][url=https://fontmeme.com/cobra-kai-font/][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/180609/ffcecb90e3bb8c9105044b398fb8183c.png[/img][/url][/center]

[right][color=fff200]Los Angeles[/color][/right]
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The van screeched to a halt, blocking off the exit to the alleyway. The chipped red paint and clearly shot suspension instantly showcased that this was not some government, black ops operative. The confirmation truly came when the door rolled open with a slight screeching, revealing a young man in a red jumpsuit, a baseball cap, and red sunglasses. He quickly rushed to the side of the girl lying in the alleyway, scooping her up in his arms before returning to the van, sighing as he heard faintly the sounds of nearby tires screeching. [color=red]"Damn it... This is how I end up on a register."[/color]

Once the girl was inside and strapped in to the passenger seat, Roy hit on the gas. He began zooming down the road just as two black vans appeared in the rear view mirror, drifting out onto the city streets. The archer gave a slight groan. This wasn't going to be easy or fun. The doors of the vans slid open, and men in full ballistic armor began leaning out and letting out bursts of gunfire towards Roy's van. The bullets pinged against the metal siding, piercing through the metal when they did hit. Arsenal checked the back seat, noticing that his motorcycle and... well, arsenal, were still intact. That was good at least. They didn't hit the RPG.

Roy turned left into the first alleyway he could. It was only large enough for a single car to drive through, and Roy watched as one van entered in behind him as the other van continued driving. They were going to try and cut him off. Smart plan. Too bad they didn't know exactly who they were dealing with. Arsenal pulled out a handgun from the center console of the van, pulling back the hammer and looking in the rear view mirror as he used his left hand to aim out the window. The other van's soldiers had to pull back in, as there wasn't enough room to safely lean out. With two quick shots, the Black Ops vans' tires were blown out, and sparks flew. Within a mere moment, the van managed to crash into the wall of an adjoining brick building. Roy was almost out of the alley, but not before the soldiers behind him slid their door open and began to fire again. A few bullets pierced through, one even managing to lodge itself into Roy's left leg, tearing through it with ease. A hard pull on the wheel saw Roy's van careen out onto the street again.

Roy grunted at the pain, but was more angered to notice the other van drift out behind them. The enemy soldiers slid the doors open. Arsenal had to think fast. Pressed for time, he decided to go with a crazier option. Roy wrapped his seatbelt around the steering wheel, managing to secure it enough that it would keep the van going relatively straight. A spare brick was used to hold down the accelerator as the van began to pick up more speed. Arsenal limped back as the bullets began to pierce through, the windshield itself being cracked and shattered by the impacts created. He grabbed his weapon of choice, spinning his body around so his feet were at the back door. With a quick kick of his right foot, the door shot open. Roy released the arrow, and watched as it shot directly onto the hood of the opposing van. He gave a quick wave as it got to work immediately. The Thermite charge tore itself into the van's hood, and it took only a couple seconds for the opposing van's engines to fail. Better yet, the placement managed to remove the car's ability to steer, along with causing a failure of the braking mechanism. The scarlet archer gave a small smile as the hostile van veered to the right and crashed into a bakery. Poor folks didn't deserve the damage. But Roy gave a slight sigh of relief as he was able to crawl his way back to the driver's seat and make an escape, despite slowly losing consciousness.

Not long after, Roy managed to pull the van into a relatively deserted spot on the outskirts of Los Angeles. He crawled into the back, barely hanging on to consciousness. His wound wasn't very severe, but he was still losing a lot of blood. He grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol and poured it over the bullet wound (luckily, only a graze). A quick wrapping of bandages then would help prevent infection and hopefully keep enough pressure to slow the bleeding. Roy, rather quickly, slammed against the back of his van as he fell unconscious, amidst his various weapons and equipment while a teenage girl slept somewhat soundly in the passenger seat. Not exactly how he expected his day to turn out.