Grrtt—
Gin was so furious. How had his beloved car ended up in such a state?
He couldn't comprehend what was before his eyes.
Who did this? And how did they manage it in such a short amount of time?!
"A-Aniki..." Vodka's voice trembled, "This... this car... what do we do now? Should we abandon it?"
"There's no time."
Gin's face was ashen. In this situation, getting out would make them sitting ducks.
Without transportation, they wouldn't be able to escape.
On this unfinished dead-end road, there were no other cars, so there was nowhere to hijack one.
Looking at the pedals beneath his feet, Gin squeezed out a single word through gritted teeth. "...Pedal it!"
"Huh?!"
Vodka froze for a moment, then understood his brother's meaning, a look on his face uglier than crying.
Such a big car, could he even pedal it?
But he didn't dare hesitate, pedaling with all his might.
Gin also took a deep breath, coordinating with Vodka, and with all his strength, he also pressed down on the pedals under his own seat.
"Creak... creak..."
The porsche 356a emitted a grating sound that set one's teeth on edge, a chain-rubbing noise completely unsuited for a sports car.
Finally, it began to move forward, jerking and lurching.
The good news was that the car still had an electric assist motor, so it wasn't purely human-powered. Once Gin and Vodka got it going, the speed wasn't exactly slow.
The speed was comparable to a small electric scooter.
At the edge of the sparse woods in the distance, Akai Shuichi slowly lowered the Remington M24 sniper rifle in his hand, a puzzled expression on his face.
Through the high-magnification scope, he clearly saw the porsche 356a moving in a bizarre manner.
No engine roar, no exhaust fumes from the tailpipe.
Only two dark figures bobbing up and down inside, their movements like... pedaling a bicycle?!
"Shu, the target vehicle is moving! But it's very slow! Are they provoking us?"
Judy's voice came from beside him, her tone angry. She had also seen the ridiculously slow Porsche through her binoculars.
"No... something's wrong."
Akai Shuichi's brows furrowed, and he decisively gave an order,
"Prepare for pursuit! Alpha team, Beta team, follow! Stay on alert!"
Judy jogged with Akai Shuichi towards a black Mercedes sedan parked in the woods.
Akai Shuichi pulled open the driver's side door, and just as he was about to get in, his movements suddenly froze.
Judy in the passenger seat simultaneously let out a shriek. "What the hell?!"
The scene that greeted their eyes was identical to what Gin had encountered.
Where the Mercedes sedan's steering wheel should have been, there was also a shiny silver bicycle handlebar.
Beneath their feet, the accelerator and brake pedals had vanished, replaced by bicycle pedals.
However, their pedals looked like they had been picked from a junkyard, still covered in rust.
"This... how is this possible?!"
Judy incredulously reached out to touch the metal handlebar on the driver's side, then looked down at the pedals beneath her feet, feeling her worldview shattered.
Akai Shuichi's face was ashen, and he immediately pressed his earpiece. "Alpha team! Beta team! Report your vehicle status!"
After a brief silence, two equally astonished and disbelieving voices came through the earpiece.
"Agent Akai! Our car... the steering wheel is gone! It's turned into bicycle handlebars! And there are pedals too!"
"Us too! Beta team's vehicle has also been modified! What in the world is going on?!"
Akai Shuichi's heart sank.
He had initially thought that the other teams' vehicles wouldn't have problems, but he hadn't expected that others would encounter the same situation as his own.
He wondered who could have done it.
However, it shouldn't be the Black Organization, as Gin's car seemed to have the same problem.
Seeing the "Porsch-pedal" slowly getting further and further away, turning onto the service road leading to the normal urban area in the distance.
Akai Shuichi looked at the back of the Mercedes—
Sure enough, two sets of pedals were also installed beneath the rear seats.
"No time to hesitate!"
Akai Shuichi made a swift decision, shouting into his earpiece, "Alpha team, Beta team, send one person each over! Get in this car! Judy, you take the passenger seat and provide fire cover! Everyone else... pedal with all your might!"
Soon, two other equally bewildered FBI agents squeezed into the back of the Mercedes.
"On my command!" Akai Shuichi gripped the cold handlebars with both hands and shouted, "One, two, pedal!"
And so, four well-trained FBI agents, with a sense of tragic heroism, simultaneously pressed down on the pedals.
"Creak... creak..."
The Mercedes sedan slowly started to move.
But thanks to four people exerting force at the same time, and the car's own assist system, its speed was faster than the porsche 356a, though not by much.
On the road leading to downtown Tokyo, the porsche 356a and the Mercedes sedan staged a low-budget version of The Fast and the Furious.
Gin looked through the rearview mirror and saw the black Mercedes hot on his heels, as well as the four vaguely visible figures pedaling furiously inside, and he understood what was happening.
While he was laughing in anger, he inexplicably felt a hint of comfort.
"Damn it! Vodka, speed up! Contact Chianti and Korn! Have them meet us at the next intersection!"
Gin gritted his teeth and pedaled fiercely, while giving orders.
He felt like his lungs were about to explode from pedaling.
"Y-Yes, Aniki!"
Vodka responded breathlessly, his legs almost cramping from pedaling, but with his brother's command, he had to obey.
He managed to pull out his phone with one hand to dial, while the other hand had to hold the handlebars to maintain direction.
Just as these two luxury cars were chasing each other at a snail's pace, staging their version of The Fast and the Furious, an unexpected participant joined the fray.
It was a white-haired old man, wearing professional cycling gear and a streamlined helmet. He was riding a gleaming carbon fiber racing bicycle, flying along the bike lane in a standard posture.
He rode fast and steadily, clearly a seasoned enthusiast.
Suddenly, the wobbly and incredibly slow porsche 356a sharply cut across from the main road, almost brushing his bicycle handlebars.
"Hey! How are you driving?! Don't you have eyes?!" The old man broke out in a cold sweat and roared in anger.
Before he finished speaking, another black Mercedes whizzed past, grazing his rear wheel and almost knocking him over.
"Baka!!"
The old man was completely enraged. This was practically murder!
"You two bastards! Just because you drive expensive junk cars doesn't mean anything! Don't you understand traffic rules?! Watch me overtake you!"
The old man hunched over, his legs pumping like pinwheels.
The carbon fiber bicycle burst out with astonishing acceleration, cutting through the wind, and quickly overtook Vodka and Gin, who were huffing and puffing as they pedaled.
"Ding-a-ling! Ding-a-ling!"
The old man deliberately rang his clear bicycle bell and gave the middle finger to the porsche 356a and the black Mercedes with his left hand.
"Get out of the way! You useless lumps! You can't even drive as fast as I can cycle, go home and hug your kids!"