Blade held off shooting as the mines dispenser popped up on the roof of the van and started shooting black disks up and past him with spring-launched enthusiasm. The proximity detectors and magnets had no problems finding targets on the Road now, and the mine dispenser was shooting the deCompressed explosives out like skeet, zipping over their formation and descending into the following vehicles to cause havoc.

Two hundred mines later, and a lot of burning explosions, the dispenser clicked dry and was unceremoniously ejected to save weight.

They came roaring around a turn and down a hill, the shift forewarned by Blaze, and he cried out, “I see the Race!”

“Compress everything! Initiate Race configurations! Ladies, we’re in your hands!”

Natalya disengaged both her minigun and the chair she was in, kicking them out and watching them tumble into scrap on the Road. The cannons up top shrank down to the size of toys and were brought down inside as the back of the van was kicked open, and seats and furnishings went flying, along with a couple ammo cases and all the extra firearms. Microchip even pitched his computer and some electronics and stuff they didn’t need, while the armor on the sides shrank down to a thin golden line, and the roof lowered almost two feet. Microchip was laying on his back, a single vidscreen atop him, joined by Blade, while the Widow’s front seat was fully inclined back and her video feed restricted to her glasses.

The van rumbled and picked up speed as its profile changed. Even the force field generator was Compressed and off-line. They were now protected only by the spell-shields of the sorceresses.

Mr. Hill sat down with Spears as the ex-monster truck’s suspension lowered further, and a teardrop hood-sheath slid over the back of it, looking like a fin as the sides of the tailgate folded in.

Ammo cases, unneeded firearms, spare ammo, emergency gear... it all went sailing off of their Rides, or vanished into Compressed cases the size of tokens. The fancy Blessed armor became just strips of gold on each car as aerodynamic planes subtly altered their sides.

Very coolly, the Mick moved into the lead, and all the cars drifted into position behind him, riding his draft as the field Jennifer held in front of him took the lead. Monster and the Battlevan took up the back end, the former at the very back, as Dealer squeezed through the cabin window of the Monster into the back and took up position on the small circle opened back there as a gunport.

Her firing didn’t let up for more than ten seconds. Cards peeled off and went sailing out to take care of those Chase cars trying to power up behind them, but they were unable to meaningfully close the distance to the Team before being blasted off the Road.

They were picking up some real speed now, Jennifer Kale’s field handling the wind resistance, the Mick leading them through on his drafting, and Johnny calling out the lay of the Road ahead of them, letting them know if they had to brake or accelerate for turns or jumps.

“The Race is at three o’ clock. Remember, they’ll run a clean race, unless they are losing at the very end. But bumping and grinding isn’t considered dirty. The Chase won’t shoot at them, so keep up your shooting.”

Thumbnail cameras still gave vids to the men now sitting on floors and strapped to roll cages. They watched as the Race came in from the left, burning with hellfire-powered engines, and swept up next to them.

They had once been an elite team, but the Drivers and Rides were Damned remnants of the beings and vehicles they had once been. Flesh was replaced by burning bone all too often, and their vehicles were running on magic instead of fuel and steel, held together by the will of the Road instead of tech.

Still, the damned Riders gave the Punishment Team salutes, moving with the ease and experience of the once-living. The Drivers saluted back, and the Race was on.

The course was as crazy as any they’d ever seen. There were hairpin turns on mountainsides, there were burning straightaways, there were jumps that if you overshot would take you right off the Road, and loop-de-loops and high turns where if you weren’t up to speed you were going to fall off and crash badly.

The amount of shifting and control that had to be used was inhuman, requiring superhuman levels of focus and coordination, all the while dodging the Damned Team that was jockeying for position with them. With no armor, the sides of the vehicles screamed and protested as burning metal beat and crashed against them, trying to get the best angle, or powered up behind them to try and push them out of the way.

Those tactics were returned with interest, and the Damned Team especially didn’t get in the way of the Van and the Monster, opting to slowly and continually draw ahead of the two slowest vehicles, and make it harder for them to keep up by cutting them out of the drafting line of the rest of the Punishment team.

Dealer’s Card flicked out to form a force-shear in front of the Battlevan, and the two slowest vehicles hurtled along after the rest of the Race.

The first fatality of the Race happened when the Van came over a ramp too fast, looking like it was making up ground and had grown overeager. A fast car of the Damned had drifted over in front of it, and was shocked to find the Van literally coming down on top of it.

Watching from the back of the Monster, Mr. Hill’s Weight pulsed down and up. The Van crashed heavily down on the car, bounced back up, and as the crushed car veered off out of control, the Van came back down on the Road and stuck there, the Monster slamming down heavily behind it.

The fast car slewed away, hit the siderail, and left the Road for the black rocks beyond.

The Drivers of the Damned looked back as one of their own was lost, and the bigger Rides were powering up on them once more.

The Punishment Team had one interesting advantage, and that was Mr. Hill’s Weight. He could jack the gravity up to keep them down on the ground, or he could lighten them up to let the engines just roar and give their all. Dealer’s Cards had no problems keeping the engines cool, nor did Jennifer.

---

Up ahead, Johnny was easily matching the sole Damned Rider likewise girt in hellfire, even with Wanda riding with him. Her Chaos magic meant he could blur into speed and motion the other Rider couldn’t match, and so he always had the ideal curve on the turns, and Wanda was always ready to push the other off violently if he tried to press them.

Johnny came out of a looping hairpin, swearing at it as he did, and looked ahead. “Straightaway, three miles! End of the Race!” his burning voice rang out.

Wanda’s hand whipped out as the Damned Rider finally tried to swipe them directly. His bike ran into the crimson arcs dancing about her hand, and promptly blew sideways, spinning him off-balance and away towards the railing helplessly.

“Just tried to sweep us. Watch for tricks!” Johnny Blaze growled, and the Ghost Rider kept his speed steady.

---

“We’re a quarter-mile back,” Castle swore, as the nearest of the Damned vehicles pulled ahead. “Say when, Dealer!”

“Soon’s you clear the loop and the Road is open!” she stated firmly over coms.

“Counting. Four, three,” the van turned sideways as they powered through the curve, sliding up the wall, but not too far or they’d fling themselves right off it, finding that line where the tires gripped and speed was maintained, leading down, “two, one, hit it!”

The Battlevan slid down onto level ground, the central brace of the floor kicked open in back, and the Sidewinder missile mounted under the floor and above the chassis lit off.

The whole team was slammed into their restraints as the mother of all nitro surges, courtesy of an air-to-air missile, delivered nine thousand or so pounds of thrust and sent them literally rocketing forwards.

Behind them, the Monster slammed to the ground and did the same. The truck was followed by an unending stream of howling, burning Chase cars, many of whom couldn’t find the line and crashed wildly in all directions. But it didn’t matter, as the endless Horde of the Chase just kept coming in burning eagerness, but they had no way of catching the two formerly slowest vehicles now.

Frank Castle was forced back against his chair by the g-forces as his van broke 200 mph and kept climbing. The force shear was keeping them to the ground, and the alchemical rubber of the tires refused to melt from the speed and friction. They rapidly began to catch up with the rearmost cars of the Racers.

The Damned Drivers there realized something was very much off as both of the big vehicles began to overtake them, and promptly maneuvered to try and get in front of the pair. They were the rearmost vehicles, and slowing down the other team was what they were best at.

Unfortunately for them, they were below the bigger vehicles in both mass and speed, which was a fatal combination when the first one juked in front of the van. Frank expertly nudged the corner of it, sent it sliding sideways, and before the Driver could correct himself, he was spinning out frictionlessly at his speed. He went over the railing and in a flaming arc towards a dark chasm below, burning sadly.

“Let him live, we need him in last place,” Frank growled as the other driver got in front of him and tried to slow him down, but instead found himself being forced ahead at ever-increasing speeds.

Monster roared up alongside them and passed right by. Frank fluttered sideways as Dealer’s passing Card sent the Racer up on two wheels from an insta-ramp and out of contact. Before the hellcar could slam back down, Frank slid sideways, was up next to him, and the roaring missile was pushing him ahead before the Racer could do anything to catch him.

“Block the Racers in case that last guy suicides!” The Mick roared, and the cars ahead began bouncing the other Racers, slowing them and driving them back. The big cars were coming at a roar still, their speed nothing but increasing as they plowed a path at impossible speed towards the finish, and only the force shears were keeping them on the ground.

“Castle and Monster right, everyone else left!” the Mick ordered, doing just that. The enemy Racers didn’t really realize what was going on before the Monster was up on them and simply plowed right through them, smashing them out of the way on its irresistible course towards the finish line. It actually crashed its way through four of the five remaining cars that didn’t get out of the way in time, and actually swept by the Mick, heading for Johnny, who’d almost reached the line.

“Cut the rocket before you cross!” warned the Mick. “Pedals down!”

With a delighted howl, the team wove between the damaged Racers, formed up their line, and powered at full speed after the two big Rides.

Mr. Hill calmly pounded his fist right through the back floor of the Monster, grabbed the missile, and forced it down out of its restraints, bolts popping everywhere as he did. He let go, and it zipped on away out in front of them.

Waiting for it ahead of them, Wanda shot it right out of the air instantly, totally aware of how such things tended to head for any potential target on the Road.

Explosive bolts blew the one under the Battlevan free and down as Monster moved out of the way, and it also zipped out ahead, bouncing and skidding along the road before it gained some altitude.

Another crimson bolt knocked it out of the sky, and five seconds later both truck and van were across the line.

“Hairpin turn left!” shouted Johnny, tilting his cycle forty-five degrees as he skidded and turned to find the shortcut home. Brakes were hammered down as the big vehicles slowed desperately in order to make the turn, Mr. Hill’s Weight coming down and making sure they didn’t roll over as they did so. They slammed off the rocky wall there, but made the turns and were into the tunnel. The others zipped past the finish in series, and the Damned Racers could only look after them in frustration that their own Damned Ride wasn’t over as they flamed on past.

“Don’t stop,” the Mick said hoarsely. “We’re still on the Road.” As they came out of the canyon, around them was a pastoral land, covered in green and wildflowers, a gentle blanket of peace compared to the hour of incredible tension and frantic activity they’d just left. “Yer tired and yer drained, that’s fine. Slow it down, keep it careful, but Do. Not. Stop.”

A blip came up on the toxicology filters on their vehicles, warning of the intense soporifics in those wildflowers. If they got out of their Rides here, they’d go nowhere else, ever.

Everyone acknowledged the order, and despite hands trembling on the wheels, and some sudden and intense urges to piss, nobody stopped.