Brad stretched his arms as best he could against the cold metal of the handcuffs. He didn't have to wait long.
As the van travelled through the idyllic French countryside, the Batwing was on its way. The black painted craft sliced the air with casual ease, watching the ground below. Watching its prey, as the van rumbled slowly along a quiet country road.
It dropped from the sky without warning, without hesitation. Droid intelligence maneuvered the fighter-bomber with uncanny precision. Azure knives stabbed down towards the earth, and where they landed electrical arcs flashed, disrupting electrics, overloading circuits.
The van halted, its electric fuel ignition disabled. Those inside the vehicle cried out in panic and shock as the brilliant beams of energy slowly dissipated. All but one.
Brad addressed the drivers, the policemen, who were swearing in French. "Free me now, or you won't live to regret your mistake." His ears were filled with the familiar whine of repulsorlifts.
The policemen paid no attention to him. Thin cowered on the floor. Brad repeated himself. He sighed, and yelled towards the floor.
"Commlink on. Send: Hit the lights."
Brilliant magnesium light blinded the van's occupants. The driver panicked and hit the accelerator.
"This wasn't in the plan!" Brad cursed as he toppled sideways, unable to balance himself without the use of his arms. Young might have objected, but his face was smashed against the back wall of the van, and Brad wouldn't have heard him over the sound of the engine roaring, its primitive, inefficient mechanics far more resilient to EMP than sophisticated technologies.
Oh no, Brad realised. We're hurtling around at speed, it's night, and the idiots don't have any lights.
"Not... in... the plan!" Brad groaned as he attempted to sit up. If he'd had a human accomplice in the Batwing, they'd be shining the spotlights ahead of the van, so they could at least see where they were going, and maintaining the same speed so as to allow Brad time to negotiate an escape.
Unfortunately, the contingency plan didn't have this eventuality. Instead, the Batwing shadowed the van, firing ion cannon blasts down at the fleeing wheeled bug.
Brad watched helplessly through the driver/passenger mesh screen as ion blasts flashed overhead, smashing into the road, causing the driver to swerve as he attempted to avoid the harmless beams. As harmless as a starfighter-scale weapon system can be.
Dangerous, seated across from Brad, turned his head, coughed, and spat over his shoulder. Something small and metal landed in Dangerous' hands, and he began working at his cuffs.
Dangerous began to smile a devil's smile, the kind you only see when a disturbed individual is contemplating violence. His tattooed face stretched, and his eyes roiled with malice. His teeth were needles. Brad could do nothing but watch.
Dangerous worked his way free of his cuffs and began to pull at the mesh grating. On the other side, the terrified policemen were trying to escape the ever-present B-wing. The passenger swatted at the mesh with a baton, driving Dangerous's prying fingers back to the prisoner's side of the line.
Young and Thin looked at him with fear. Dangerous looked at them and smiled once more. He turned to Brad and held up the sliver of metal, slick with the man's own saliva.
"Me with you. You talk to that UFO. You help me, me help you." He extended his arm, the lockpick glistening.
"I don't know how to pick locks," Brad said. He twisted around to expose his cuffed wrists. Dangerous started working on them. The policemen had now regained presence of mind enough to radio for help - unfortunately, they had not yet recovered enough to lower their voices to be understood.
Brad nodded his thanks. He pointed to the personal items locker above his head. "Now that."
Dangerous unpicked the lock. Items tumbled out when the vehicle turned, a cellphone, wallet, keys. Brad caught the phone and hit a combination of keys.
"Cease fire. Plot safe intercept course."
The firing stopped. The driver, suddenly without any form of illumination, put the van into a skid stop. The tires screeched.
Brad's stomach lurched. He felt like he was floating. He was in free fall.
"<The van's driven off a cliff!>"