Here they come again. Zola saw only five blips this time. Either one of them had lost interest and left or he’d called Lester Crest and had his blip removed from the map for a few minutes. Which is a good idea, now that I think about it.
She opened her phone, made the call, and smirked while walking over to the Trashmaster. She’d had her Deveste Eight delivered and hauled ass back into the city while her enemies regrouped. She’d spotted a garbage truck and another idea had popped into her head. She’d stolen it, called Pegasus and requested a Cargobob, then driven the Trashmaster to its pickup location. Then she’d used the Cargobob to lift the truck to the top of the Maze Bank building, set it down, and landed beside it.
She’d had enough of a head start to get into position before they reached her.
She placed five sticky bombs on the Trashmaster’s side and climbed in. Then she waited.
Their blips gathered in front of the bank.
“She was around here when she disappeared.”
“I’ll go around back and see if she’s hiding there. One of you circle around the other side and we’ll trap her between us.” Two blips began moving and the rest remained clumped together.
Morons. Zola stifled a laugh and punched it. The garbage truck rumbled to the edge of the roof, directly above the three blips.
“She hasn’t said anything in a while. Maybe she left.”
Zola drove the truck off the edge and it plunged straight toward them. She jumped out of the truck, deployed her parachute, and swung around to watch the spectacle, wondering if the Trashmaster would actually land on any of them. Which was why she’d planted the sticky bombs. As long as they were within the blast radius …
It came straight down on one guy’s head and crushed him to death, followed by three voices screaming incoherently and demanding to know what the hell had just happened. The truck toppled over and flattened the others. The two blips behind the Maze Bank charged back around to join them.
Zola touched down on a nearby roof, crouched at the edge, and selected her Hellbringer. She waited for the other two to get within range and tapped the G key to trigger the sticky bombs. The five simultaneous blasts flung all four of them in different directions, slapping one of them into the side of the bank. Three death notifications scrolled up above her map.
She locked on to the last survivor and noticed he had barely a sliver of health left. Laughing, she switched to her flare gun, locked on, and pulled the trigger.
Pffff! The flare bounced off him and set him ablaze.
“You f …”
The last of his health vanished and he collapsed in a burning heap. The player interrupted his own insult and took a deep breath.
Zola slumped over her desk and laughed until the room spun around her and splotches appeared in her vision. She forced herself to keep breathing steadily.
“Alright,” one of the guys grumbled. “Enough, already.”
“Oh, no. Hmm-mm. No. You started this.” Zola wiped sweat off her palms and returned them to her keyboard and mouse. “I’ve tattooed your names on my knuckles. I’m coming for you!”