The dust kicks up as I cruise along in my beaten, red automobile. The sadness within is unbearable from the thought of having to leave the interceptor behind. I considered going back so I could be reunited with my car once again, but it's not worth it. The bikers have probably already taken it apart for scrap, and syphoned out all of the gas anyway. I zoom along the desert road in the four cylinder coup that I have stolen from bikers as they tried to chase me away from my vehicle on foot. It is hardly able to run due to the immense stress it was put under by the fiendish bandits. I hear the slight rumble of motorcycles in the distance as the bikers begin to trail me. I spot them in the rear view mirror, there are two of them, very far off. I ponder whether I should try to outrun them or just pull over to the side of the road and hide alongside the car. I see that I am low on gas and would not be able to make it very far in a chase so I pull over before the bikers get close enough to spot me. I reach under the seat and fumble around for a moment before my hand finally wraps around the grip of my trusty sawed off shotgun. I pull it out from under the seat of the nearly inoperable coup as I creek open the driver side door and slip out of the car. I kneel, leaning against the vehicle as I hide out of sight of anyone passing by on the road. My leather jacket is cracking from being battered by sandstorms and baking in the heat. I don't trust it's pocket to hold the weight of my firearm, so I keep it in hand. I see and hear the motorbikes approaching swiftly. They slow down, their motors sputtering and then shutting off as they stop to examine the car I am hiding behind. I creep around the backside of the car and get behind them with my double barreled weapon, thankfully loaded, and stick it to the back of one of the bikers and pull the trigger sending a loud bang into the air and a handful of pellets into the biker. He falls to the ground as the second biker turns to me and reaches for his weapon, but he isn't quick enough. I fire my second shot into the stomach of the biker before he even has his hand around his firearm. I look to the bodies for gear and ammo but unfortunately they have nothing and my weapon will remain unloaded for the time being. I now go to the bikes in hope that they will have full gas tanks for me to syphon, but it appears as though they probably don't even have enough fuel remaining to fire up themselves let alone my car. Running on fumes, I am forced to move on. Gaining nothing from this experience I get in my car and start it on what little gas remains and push forward along the beaten road in hopes of finding more petrol before sundown.