The Projects were the creation of a housing conglomerate that supplied dirt cheap accommodation in the most economical way possible. They have sprung up in several places around Babylon but they all look identical, which is why you never hear the District name alongside it. Normally said district wants nothing to do with the Projects. Geometrically perfect tower blocks in square grids, connected up by a web of walkways and gantries. The hallways, bridges and lobbies are full of ramshackle markets selling everything from shoes to pharmaceuticals, the grounds around it are full of ganglands and decrepit leisure facilities. The inhabitants are from all over the known galaxy, mostly migrants who came from nothing and in order to pay for their living space must work in sponsored factories or positions.

A black and yellow hover cruiser, long sleek and dangerous, screamed through the Projects; zigzagging faster than any normal mind could comprehend to avoid walkways, buildings and other hover cars. It span, ducked, dived and raced with inhuman accuracy through every nook and cranny of the superstructures. Behind it swarmed an immense cloud of BESC pursuit vehicles; blue and red lights blaring an intolerable screech as they struggled to keep pace with the black and yellow bumblebee which kept flitting improbably from their clutches. Three of the four windows were down and men in black clothing desperately sprayed BESC with a blistering volley of energy fire. Well, two of the three gunners were desperate. One of them was enjoying himself immensely, firing intelligent missiles from a disposable launcher into the throng of vehicles.

With a ping, the launcher announced it had run out of missiles. Jack Thegn the Third tossed it aside and ducked back inside the cruiser. Loud and hectic music was vibrating the whole interior. It was synthesized using a mixture of the car Mind’s brain activity, the rhythm of the energy rifles and the pheromones released by the men themselves. In the back were two of Jack’s lieutenants, big bruisers with a penchant for heavy weaponry. They were head and shoulders out of each back seat window and the boom of the guns was loud. In the drivers seat was his ‘chauffeur’, Ling. He had an access port at the back of his skull which connected via a scraggle of snaking wires to the dashboard in front of him. He was talking to the car’s brain with incredible fidelity, in effect they had merged. His hands were manipulating the steering wheel and various other controls with lightning fast dexterity, turning the long beast into a sparrow as it wheeled through impossible gaps, forcing BESC to take longer routes. 

Littering the floor of the cabin was an arsenal of weaponry that would put the Sand Pirates to shame. Assault rifles, good old fashioned rocket launchers, particle accelerators, energy weapons. They rustled around the car’s floor as it flew. Leaning out of his seat, Jack plucked up a [url=http://i1194.photobucket.com/albums/aa365/Catharyn_F_Harrison/Concepts/Hydra_zps88db8ca8.png]beefy looking specimen[/url] and inspected it closely. “Jack, they’re all over us, and they’ve started firing!” One of his henchmen shouted over the din. “That’ll be Tali trying to kill me again. More speed Ling!” Jack yelled absently, turning his new toy on. It glowed with a green light. Jack fiddled with a few more of the guns controls before leaning back out of the Cruiser’s window and firing it at the cars behind. Four brightly illuminated shells flew out of the gun’s barrels and knifed away, leaving trails of smoke behind. They were ungainly and wobbled massively, but their payload was devastating.

All four hit a target, including the gunship which held the mind Antelope Dreaming. The projectile clipped one of it’s jet engines, taking it right off; the ship began spinning radically to one side, crashing into another squad car before disappearing through the wall of an apartment building with a giant rending sound. Three other fiery explosions filled Jack’s vision. He began laughing triumphant, shaking his free fist at the BESC pursuers before another explosion, much closer this time, shook his very core. The force of the blow first knocked the gun from his hands, it went spinning off to hit the ground. There was only time for a momentary glance at where the back of the car had once been, and how it had been replaced by a blazing abyss before he was next; his grip shaken loose as his cruiser began losing altitude rapidly. Before he knew it he was out of the window and hanging onto his car for dear life.