George Harrison’s “Got My Mind Set On You,” just in case you were wondering.

. . .

Gregory Mugwash leans out the passenger window of the armoured truck, firing his shotgun twice at the wind shield of the pursuing cruiser. Another feat of perfect weaving by the cop and there it stays. Five shots in and it has not even slowed down.

 

     GREGORY MUGWASH: “Jesus! What does it take to get some grace of my own up in here?”

 

Mugwash drops back into his seat, popping shells and reloading as quickly as his nervous hands can manage. The driver, Hagford Rocktooth, scowls at him with a bottomless disdain.

 

     HAGFORD ROCKTOOTH: “You’re the worst shot I’ve ever seen!”
     GREGORY MUGWASH: “You want to switch places, wise guy? Shut your mouth and drive!”

 

The radio in the police cruiser has been rattling orders almost non-stop since she took control of the vehicle from Sgt. Pure, but June Action is no police officer and she is in no mood to start following their protocols now. She pulls Pure’s service gun from the holster of the unconscious officer and checks the clip once before pushing her weight harder into the accelerator.

 

     JUNE ACTION: “You ever played Whack-A-Mole, Sergeant Pure?”

 

Mugwash snarls bitterly as he leans out the window for another shot, but his eyes quickly turn wild and frantic as the realisation of his folly dawns. Five seconds later he is flopped back in the passenger seat, the shotgun and most of his right hand now missing in action. The screams do not last as Rocktooth pounds a hammy fist straight into the jaw of the now destroyed Mugwash.

 

     HAGFORD ROCKTOOTH: “I gotta freaking do everything myself!”

 

. . .

To be continued.