Max watched on as Kaitlyn pulled by, a bit of traffic slowing the entire group down, the modified 350Z finding a neat route through as Max followed through, taking a slightly different line to Kaitlyn as he shifted back up again, back on the throttle, turbo at full pelt. Pulling out from the traffic, he planted the Skyline's throttle, the old-school R33 neither as aero-focussed. Kaitlyn's machine was clearly just more powerful, and far quicker in the corners, a fact that was now true even on the relatively straight freeway, but Max did have the slipstream here and could at least use that to put himself away from the rest of the pack. It was a hell of a feeling, the speedo climbing as the Skyline's engine clambered to speed, a cruising speed that oddly felt very comfortable in a car like this. Even for its age, it didn't feel like it was coming apart, like it was made to do these sorts of runs, Max sticking close to Kaitlyn, who was getting closer to the lead car. All he could hope for was he could push past when they got into Long Beach.

The highway's empty scene made it easy to put foot to floor, but the cops weren't falling all too far back. This wasn't right. Normally, cops just disappeared. Going 120, 130 and they were gone- but here, it felt like one set of lights had dropped back, and another come into sight. Shit. They definitely didn't know the route...they certainly were cracking the whip tonight, and that wasn't something Max wanted to particuarly feel the wrath of. Coming to a junction, Max kept it tight behind Kaitlyn, the miles clocking down.