... the motel receptionist lets out a faint sigh as his boycott of the television continues. A deep sigh as he leans back into his chair, waiting for his shift to be over so he can just go to sleep for the day. Only 9 minutes left before the late-night, early-morning shift is over.

  As he idly lazes around, the lobby door opens and he directs his attention to the people entering. Three in particular, all of them dressed in black leather jackets over white tank tops. Rugged blue jeans beneath black stomping boots. Greasy, sweaty hair slicked back with a comb.

  "Ah. Afternoon, are you all here to check in?"

  The one in the middle scratches the back of his neck, letting out an idle sigh. "Well... in a way. Not in a 'check in' sense, more a 'check up'."

  As these three talk to the receptionist, the rest of a dozen are outside. Dressed in unison, sharing this same traditional "biker" aesthetic. Twelve running motorcycles parked to the side. They were all looking at the building itself, eyes on the various rooms in question. Surveying the building for any sort of... suspicious persons.

  The reason for this is that something caught their eye while they were driving by the motel: an armored Mercedes-Benz, specifically a G3 AMG, a car worth five billion dollars for its driver. Right now, their guns are holstered, and they're just keeping an eye out for that walking bodybag of money.

  These were mercenaries, one of the many miscellaneous "grunts" (common mercenaries) going after Ashford. A group of unknown bikers—tough men who love motorcycles, dressing to fit the culture surrounding them—who simply saw the reward on Chouko Ashford's head and sought to take her in for a big payday. With the nine bikers outside, the three in the motel lobby are discussing things with the one guy on shift.

  Hierarchy-wise, the one in the middle is the leader of this group. A man whose aesthetic falls in line with greaser culture, falling into the 1950s with suave black hair, dark blue jeans, a black leather bomber jacket that matches his black biker boots, a white tanktop, and a silver chain necklace. Over his shoulder, the strap to an umbrella holder he was using to hold a wooden baseball bat. Black sunglasses are latched onto the front of his shirt.

  This leader leans his arm on the counter, looking forward with a slimy smile. One that has a grin, a smirk behind it, looking to the receptionist with feigned kindness. "See, in the parking lot, there's a car right outside that's been reported stolen."

  "Stolen?" the receptionist asks, looking to a screen. One that's presumably connected to the cameras installed in the motel. He seems to notice the car in question, holding a finger to his chin. "... truth be told, I ain't even seen that car drive in. How odd..."

  "Yessir..." the greasy middleman responds, raising a hand to tap the side of his forehead. "We suspect that the thief's still in this motel here, just hiding away and all. Wanted to take it into our own hands, turn them in to the boys in blue. Mind telling us all you can?"

  "Well, I mean... I guess I've been here since about 3 in the morning," the receptionist tells the men, gesturing to the clock that reads 9:54. "Had only three guests in this lobby. A man about yay high," raising his hand significantly high in the air, "some girl with pink bows, and then a family of five with this loud barking chihuahua. Went 'arf, arf' and stuff."

  "I see, well, if you happen to—" A pause, as the leader leans forward over the counter with a curious eyebrow raise. "... pink bows, you say?"

  "Yeah, these pink and white ones, sides of her hair."

  "White hair? By any chance, like... red, maybe pink eyes?"

  The receptionist raises an eyebrow at this, never having heard of pink-eyed women before. "Well, she had sunglasses on, so I couldn't see the eyes. Could be any color, really."

  "Right. Okay," the leader idly hmms. "I'd like to ask you some more questions, if that's okay?"

  "Uh... yeah, sure. Anything to help."

  As the receptionist describes this white haired girl, the leader and his two backup guys maintain their friendly faces. Informants are such a reliable source, having collected information about stragglers and survivors that escaped from the office building. Many reported a white haired android being admitted into the building, which these bikers are very privy to.

  Combine the Mercedes-Benz with the white haired individual that is highly likely to be associated with Ashford, and their money ticket is in the area. He follows up on this clue, ready to learn more about this individual who checked in.

  Of course, the already knows that this receptionist will not divulge that information. There's some legal precedent with motel workers where they can get in trouble if they divulge private and personal information to just random people.

  No, the leader's questioning is to distract the receptionist long enough to take his attention away from that computer, to avoid noticing that the outside bikers are now breaking into rooms.

  At room 101, a biker holds a gloved hand right up to the lock. It's an electronic lock, one that requires a keycard to open. A secured door that, by design, should keep out anyone and everyone who doesn't have a card.

  Yet, the door easily unlocks.

  A specialized glove, designed for breaking and entering, was used to scramble the scanner.

  The biker takes a hold of the door handle and opens it slowly, gun in his other hand and looking around. The room is currently occupied by a sleeping, morbidly obese man who seems to have fallen asleep in a pile of burger wrappers around him on the bed. There's a motor scooter in the corner of the room, and the TV is currently on.

  One look around, and it's evident that Ashford isn't in this room. The biker closes the door and moves on to the next room.

  This motel is one with two floors. Four bikers take the first floor, two on the second, and the other three are on "guard duty" to keep watch for any witnesses. In the time that the bikers upstairs are looking, Room 201 is a vacancy with a room completely untouched, Room 216 has a family of five currently eating instant noodles. The bikers on the 2nd floor are taking a sweeping approach, intent on cornering and blocking off Ashford regardless of what room she's in.

  The 1st floor ones, however, decide to take a more thorough approach. It's easier for Ashford to escape from the ground floor, if they're not careful. So, as the biker checks 101, 102 is being checked by the other biker, and the other pair of searchers are examining 115 and 116.

  There is nothing of note that pinpoints Ashford, though. Room 201 is a vacancy with a room completely untouched, and Room 216 has a family of five currently eating instant noodles. Room 102 has a brown-haired guy and a blonde woman currently asleep in the same bed, 115 has a ragged and scruffy man with a dirty trench coat discarded to the side, and 116 has a bunch of stuffed animals inside.

  Their searches needed to be very minimal. For the people that were sleeping, the bikers couldn't thoroughly search the room without waking up these individuals. For the people that were awake, the bikers caused the sound of the lock to beep when unlocking doors and made excuses for why they needed to check inside. While vacant rooms were searchable, the fact that there isn't a person in them does not make the search promising.

  So, their pattern is just to open the door, do what's necessary at the door, and move on. Meaning, on the ground floor, the leftmost pair goes to 103 and 104 in the next search. After that, they reach... 105.

  So the biker goes in, and idly looks around. No one seemed to be awake inside, but...

  ... it's occupied by the person of interest.

  This biker did overhear the conversation about the white haired girl with pink bows, and this is the room that has that girl. The biker grins widely as he sees that girl, the one currently curled up in bed and hugging a knapsack in her arms. Eyes currently closed, just sleeping away with a blanket over her body.

  He's found the girl's room, now it's time to deduce where Ashford could be.

  So, the biker approaches the bed, raising his hand. "Leader," the biker quietly whispers, holding a finger up to the side of his forehead. "Reporting. I found a..."

  ...?

  The biker raises an eyebrow. He presses the side of his forehead to communicate, then repeatedly taps it in confusion. He should be communicating with the leader and the other bikers, but... but his hand isn't by his forehead.

  It's at his shoulder.

  The biker realizes two arms are wrapping around his biceps, tightly wrapping around, preventing his hand from reaching his forehead. Seems like he's found Ashford.

  In hindsight, this biker probably should have called for the other bikers, but he didn't want to bring too much attention. After all, it's just two girls, nothing he couldn't handle. It's just as simple as shooting the girl right behind him.

  He tests his arms a little bit, realizing how... weak... Ashford is. Discreetly testing her arm strength and realizing that the arms around him aren't even keeping him in place. The smallest ounce of his strength is enough to overpower Ashford's arms. There's no strength whatsoever.

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  The biker rolls his eyes... and sees the white haired girl getting out of the bed. The pink-eyed one, presumably.

  "... hah. Right room. I got the right room," the biker idly comments, deciding to be more... open. Wanting to make conversation, looking to the white haired android with a smile. "The android, I assume."

  The white-haired girl in front of him slowly nods, putting the knapsack down at her side. Eyes still closed.

  "So, Ashford, you wanted to ambush me, huh? Keeping my arms wrapped and all?" the biker asks, looking over his shoulder to see the faint silhouette behind him. "Alright, Ashford, here's what's going to happen. I'm going to ca—"

  Call out to the others, he was about to say.

  But the moment his mouth opened to say that, a pistol is forcibly shoved into his mouth. Metal against his teeth, forced to choke down and deepthroat the gun.

  His eyes glance back forward. In front of him, the white haired girl holds the pistol in her hand, staring at the man and opening her... red... eyes. Her other hand pulls off her hair, revealing black locks instead.

  The biker realizes his error.

  "... go on," Chouko instructs the man, finger to the trigger with a cold and soulless stare. Employing her little trick. "I'm all ears."

  Apparently, dressing in Shortcake's wig is effective. As much of a mistake as getting caught was, Chouko's learned a lot from the incident. From her little trick to deceive mercenaries, to the newfound ability that she seeks to master. Indianapolis taught her plenty, as she's on her own.

  Curiously, though, Chouko seems... very sleepy. As if she JUST woke up.

  And she did.

  So this wasn't entirely her trick... it was Shortcake's. Shortcake had kept an eye out, and heard a lot of motorcycle engines. The android woke up Chouko and explained the situation, and ran to hide in the corner, shaking and bald with the gun in her hand.

  A plan they've coordinated, culminating in this most optimal of situations.

  As the biker's eyes widen, as panic fills his veins, as he trembles and shakes... Chouko thought to herself:

  The most important lesson is of what happens when an enemy is left alive for too long.

  ...

  ... in the meanwhile, the biker in the motel's front lobby continues his conversation with the receptionist. "Right. Sounds good. I believe that girl is who we're looking for. Our own security cameras caught her and all," he lies about the cameras, "and I think we can take it from here. You mind if we go check it out?"

  The man scratches the back of his head. "Well, I can't just... have you all barge into her room. I can, at least, call the police, see if we can get them to search properly."

  "Of course, of course," the leader idly responds. "I wouldn't want to get in trouble with the law or anything."

  "Right... so just give me a moment to—"

  Immediately, a gunshot rings out to interrupt the receptionist.

  The fire of a pistol, along with splatter echoing out onto the walls.

  "The... the hell?" the receptionist asks. Judging from the sound, that sound came from one of the ground floor rooms, and... oh.

  Oh.

  The receptionist tenses up.

  The lobby bikers blink as they look in that direction, blinking at the gunshot. Sounded like a gun, but... a different gun. A gun different from the brand of gun that these bikers are all familiar with, that they decided to carry in their holsters. It had to be someone else's gun...

  ... and they're heading out immediately, knowing this. One of their own was shot.

  When the gunshot rang out, the bikers immediately outside were also alerted.

  Two of the bikers on the ground floor approach the sound, seeing that Room 105 was where the shot came from. The door is wide open, so they peek in...

  ... and horrifyingly see a man choking on his blood, a hole gushing blood out of the back of his neck.

  "A... Ashford's in here!" exclaims the biker at the door, quickly looking around the room to see nothing. No one in sight.

  The rooms did not have a window on the other side, meaning the only way out is through the door. The only explanation the bikers had is that either they're hiding under the beds, or they're hiding away in the bathroom.

  "W-Where is she?! Where'd she go?!" the biker shouts to the bleeding victim, only to be met with no answer. Naught but choking and gasping.

  Defensively, almost every biker rushes to group up around 105, moving to surround the door as the two bikers search the room itself. Guns drawn, actively prepared to fire if Ashford tries anything funny. There's no way out for Ashford, especially not after she's fired first.

  "W... What are y'all doing?!" the receptionist of the motel shouts, staring at the men surrounding the door. Bewildered by the men that are right outside the room, pointing guns inside. "W... Was that a gunshot?! Hold on! I'm... I'm calling the police, stay here and we'll—"

  The receptionist is cut off as a baseball bat slams straight into his mouth, immediately falling back into the wall. Collapsing hard against it, his teeth falling out of his mouth. Hyperventilating and shaking in that moment, tears trailing from his eyes.

  And then in the next moment, a swing to the head and he's out like a light.

  The leader, the man who had acted so friendly towards the receptionist, now stands over the toothless body with a bloodied baseball bat in his hands. He's sick of this receptionist suggesting the boys in blue get in the way of their money... so away he goes.

  A ragged breath as he looks over his shoulder, staring at the other bikers. "Well? Is she in there?! We gots about five minutes before the cops get here!"

  "Sorry, Leader!" a biker in the back exclaims. "We don't see anything! She's not anywhere in there?!"

  "Did you check the bathroom? Under the beds?!" the leader shouts, coming to the same conclusion that these men did.

  "Yes, Ashford's gone!" explains the biker. "We staked out the door and everything, she's just spontaneously not here...! S-She took David's gun, and everything!"

  "Tch. Right, David..." the leader grunts, twirling his baseball bat as he walks to his cycle. "She can't have gone far without the car. Split up! Four of you guard the car, while the rest of us sweep the area and—"

  Just as he says that...

  ... he watches the Armored Mercedes-Benz start.

  The sound catches his attention, making the leader squint his eyes at the active car. "... oi. Bruce, the— the Mercedes Benz."

  "Huh?" asks the closest biker to the car, looking to the leader. "What are you—?"

  "The—" the leader grits his teeth, his eyes glaring. Looking around at the other bikers, confused why they're not alerted to the ENTIRE CAR being started. "The Mercedes BENZ, you jackass! Ashford's car, go investigate it!"

  "Okay, okay...!" the biker responds, rolling his eyes. He walks closer to the car, going up to it to investigate, curiously looking into the car.

  "Ugh... is that piece of crap a remote start?" the leader mumbles under his breath, thinking about the range someone would have to be, at most, to turn on the engine from a distance away.

  The biker that investigates the car, however, has a different story. His eyes widened as he saw... the android.

  Shortcake is in the driver's seat, starting the car and looking at the biker in fear. Having avoided their attention, having slipped past them stealthily. Her head is kept low, but she turned to see the biker staring down at her.

  This was beyond the biker's understanding, sheer disbelief at this sight as he calls out to the others. "Huh... the android's—!"

  Immediately, the biker feels something strike his knee. Something hard, something metal, something that makes his knee almost feel like it's about to break.

  This hard swing forces him to drop down in pain, a look of agony on his grizzled face— and this pain is followed by the push of a hand behind his head, leading to his face being bashed against the door of the Mercedes-Benz. Dropping unconscious and folding completely against the parking lot.

  Quickly, Shortcake opens the driver door to the car and climbs into the back...

  ... and in climbs Chouko, appearing out of thin air, appearing spontaneously just as she's entering the car.

  The butterfly's illusory ability was at her disposal, as it made her and Shortcake invisible to these bikers. A faint spread of dust sprinkles the lot ground, allowing the two to sneak past undetected, somehow evading the group of bikers at the door.

  "W-What the—?! S... Shit! The two of them are in the car already?!" the leader shouts out, breaking into a hasty sprint past his fellow bikers. The only biker that wasn't directly in the butterfly dust's range, having seen Chouko enter the car.

  The leader is too slow, however. Before the biker leader gets to the car, Chouko slams the car door shut, throwing the knapsack to the passenger side seat. She presses the button to lock the doors, and takes several intense breaths after all that. Hand over her shoulder, trembling in place, gritting her teeth.

  At the moment, Chouko and Shortcake rest in the car, the armored car. The bulletproof one with completely locked doors... completely safe from these people, as the bikers tried everything to break in.

  The bikers tried to shoot the windows, only for the bullets to impact the glass without a dent. The bikers tried to force the door open from its hinge, only to be denied by the car's reinforced quality and build. The bikers tried to hack into the car's locks, only to be met with the precautionary security the Executioner—the man who hired cybernetic mercenaries and a hacker—used for his car.

  The tires are armored, the engine is sealed shut... everything about this car is secure and impenetrable. As much as the bikers attempted, the bikers simply couldn't break into the car.

  "Damn it... DAMN YOU!" the leader shouts at the top of his lungs, slamming his bat into the indestructible window. Staring right at Ashford with a glare in his eyes, wanting so badly to bash her brains out. "You're not getting away! We'll follow you, we'll be RIGHT there when this hunk of junk stops, every waking moment... you'll never escape us!"

  Chouko, tensely, begins to back up. She begins to drive, to—

  "... ghk!" Chouko noises, gritting her teeth as she puts the car in reverse and slams her foot on the pedal. Looking over her shoulder out the back window, gritting her teeth as she speeds from this man.

  "Tch! Right! Everyone, bikes, now!" the Leader exclaims, shouting at the top of his lungs at his men. "We're going right on her tail, right this instant—"

  The man is interrupted by the sound of someone's bones being crushed by wheels.

  When he calls out, Chouko slams her foot on the brake pedal, shifts the car into drive, turns the wheel to the left, and promptly drives straight. The wheel runs over the unconscious biker that Chouko had bashed into the car, and Chouko rams the car into the biker leader. Slamming into his body and hitting him straight into the wall of the motel, a hard crash sounding out.

  The Leader's eyes widen as Chouko does this, as his eyes go wide and he stares forward at her through the windshield. His entire lower body crushed between the wall and the car, feeling his bones shatter and break.

  Chouko is violently screaming as she does this, eyes twitching as her eyes are set ablaze once again. The wheels are actively driving, actively turning and spinning, really pushing the car firmly into the man's lower body.

  A cold few seconds are spent with the two looking at each other, as the Leader stares into the eyes of a madwoman. The deranged, red-eyed glare of their supposed "bodybag" turning the biker into half of the man he was.

  Eventually... Shortcake reaches for the gear shift. "B... Brake!" Shortcake exclaims to Chouko.

  Chouko, with twitching and deranged eyes, focuses enough to slam her foot on the brakes...

  ... and the car is put back into reverse.

  "G-Gas!" Shortcake exclaims next.

  And thus... Chouko slams her foot on the gas, reversing away from the wall.

  With the car pulling away from the wall, the leader... collapses to the ground, bleeding out. A horrifying, gruesome sight, with the wall behind him cracked. Whatever moments he had left to live, they were spent in pure agony.

  Shortcake, as the car is backing up, reaches for the wheel from behind the car, spinning the wheel as far as she could. With a combination of Shortcake and Chouko's efforts, the car manages to do a three-point turn and drives away, with Chouko's foot firmly on the gas and Shortcake getting the car onto the road.

  The bikers are left in... disbelief. Three of them dead, one of them being the leader.

  People in the rooms are now being made aware of what happened, many waking up from both the gunshot and the car that drove into the wall itself.

  "S-Stay away from the windows, kids!" exclaims the father of the family of five, horrified.

  "Holy shit..." exclaims a different guest, who vomits on the carpet of his room...

  Utter chaos and disarray, as the bikers look around...

  "... damn it!" a biker shouts, taking the leader's belongings. Pulling the necklace bat over his shoulder and yanking the silver chain necklace off of the man's neck. "Listen up!" he shouts, as he runs to his motorcycle. "I'm the leader now! We're getting after Ashford, now!"

  The bikers collect themselves, and... get onto their cycles. Driving away from the scene, leaving an entire motel of people with a mess to clean up.

  With this call, the remaining bikers start to drive after the Mercedes-Benz, in pursuit of Chouko Ashford...