#motorr

BMW ka prezantuar supr-motoçikletën e quajtur Motorrad Vision Next 100.

Ajo ka disa specifika që e bëjnë perfekte.

Kjo motoçikletë ka vetëbalancim duke mos lejuar rrëzimin edhe ka ndaluar komplet.

Kjo, falë gomave të saj shumë të trasha dhe dizajnit unik.

Ende nuk ka shumë të dhëna lidhur me parametrat e saj, por pritet të hidhet në treg shumë shpejkt.

BMW thotë se brenda vitit 2021 do të hedhë…

Read more break to spare the poor folks on the Motorcity tag, and because this one is a bit longer than usual I think.

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I drum my fingers against the dome of my helmet and listen to the droning of Deluxe’s All News (read: Propaganda) Radio Station.  It’s crackling valiantly from the speakers of Hunter’s old squad car.  He’s got a yellowed pad of paper on his lap, and a pen in one hand.  The other is holding a code book - an honest to Goddess dead-tree book.  Every now and then he hears something and he flips quickly through it.  Then the pen starts going.

“Where the Hell is Chilton?” Neesha growls.  I have to lean over my bike’s handlebars to see her.  She’s sprawled out on the ground like a bored cat, waiting for a mouse to pounce on.  ”We’ve been here for half an hour.”

“Are you asking because you’re worried, or are you asking because you have the attention span of a gnat?”

She gives me a look as dull as the pavement.  ”You asked the same question five minutes ago, so.”  She makes a rude gesture at me.  ”Besides, we’re on a schedule.  More deliveries to make than just his, and we’re gonna miss our window to get out if we wait much longer.”

“He’s not normally late,” I point out.  ”He’ll be—“

The thundering screech of an explosion cuts across my assurances and puts a smile on both my and Neesha’s faces.  Hunter drops his code book and looks up from his pad.  “No,” he says flatly, like he’s talking to a couple of poorly trained puppies.  He points accusingly at us.  “No.  Don’t even think it.”

But Neesha’s already on her feet, fastening her goggles over her eyes as she darts for her mech, and I’m jamming my helmet unceremoniously back on my head.

“No!” Hunter cries.  “Guys!  I have a trunk full of incredibly illegal, ridiculously experimental ordinance!  We are NOT running head first into a warzone!  The Burners can—“

But the rest of whatever completely legitimate argument he’s making is cut off by the roar of my bike’s engine, and the ignition of Neesha’s jets, and really, who can argue with that?

She and I are off like a shot, and in my side-view I can see Hunter throwing a fit in the cab of his car before he jams the key into the ignition and hits the gas, tires squealing as he races to catch up.  Neesha’s avatar pops up in my periphery and we grin at each other.

“You guys are idiots,” Hunter snaps over the comm channel.  His avatar looks particularly unimpressed.

“Bored idiots,” I agree.

“Not bored anymore,” says Neesha brightly.

And she’s right, because we’re up and over the rubble and through the smoke and the dust and have landed right on the edge of what Hunter so aptly named a war zone.

There are more Kane bots zipping around in formation than I could reliably count, but my HUD is saying 53 and it’s better at math than I am.  The ever-determined citizens of Motorcity are returning fire in spades, though, and the number fluctuates as I watch.  Now 60.  Now 48.  Now 55.

“It’s not going down fast enough,” Hunter notes with a frown.  “They’ve gotta be pumping reinforcements in from somewhere.”

“Neesha, eyes in the sky, find their entry point.  Hunter, get on the horn and see if you can’t find Chilton and co.  There’s no way they’re missing this.”  I rev my engine and start down toward the heart of the action, warming up the bike’s weapons as I go.

“Dad’s gonna blow a gasket if he finds out we risked the cargo,” Hunter notes as his hands fly across multiple screens, searching for a signal. 

“Then it’s a good thing he’s not going to find out,” I reply.  I catch sight of a scraped up couple scrambling through the rubble, looking for a way out, Kane bots on their tail.  I throw the bike into a skid, tires screaming obscenities at me, and come to a defensive stop in front of them.  I wait until the bots have reprioritized their targets and taken aim at me instead – instructions should be firing through their network to the other bots to do the same, pulling them away from the civvies – then unload Epona’s weapons.  Seven shots, three bots.  I’ve been on the road too long.  I’m getting rusty.

“Interference is bad,” Hunter reports.  “I’m not getting anything.”

Neesha’s giant exo-suit is visible above the buildings, now, and she’s got a good vantage point on the field as whole.  “I see the Burners,” she reports.  “They’re pinned a couple blocks east of you, Link.  Makeshift jamming tower on one of the roofs.  Want me to take it out?”

“Not unless you can do it without taking out the entire building.”  Pile of damn Kane bots coming my way now.  Probably shouldn’t have let the first three announce my presence to the rest.  Swearing under my breath I turn the bike and tear away toward Hunter and precious, precious backup.

“Do you see this suit?” she replies flatly.  “Do you know what it is for?  It’s not for NOT taking out entire buildings.”

“Lucky she doesn’t take out the whole block,” Hunter mutters, “and it’s got nothing to do with her suit.”

She snorts.  “It’s not MY city.”

“Just give me the coords, Neesha, you find the entry point.”

The location of the jamming tower flares red on the map and I turn in that direction.  But a swarm of Kane bots move to intercept me.  “Hunter!  Cover fire?”  I ask.  Two of the closest Kane bots explode in response before I've even finished speaking – he was, of course, already on it the instant he realized he wasn’t going to be raising anyone on the horn – and I have to swerve to avoid the shrapnel.

“Hey, genius,” he snaps, blowing a few more out of the road in front of me, “riddle me this.  Who dresses funny and has a little engine capable of generating infinite energy tied to his belt?”

“That Chuck kid?” I venture as I reach to my back and pull the S.E.B. from my belt.  I pop the long glowing tube into the port on my bike’s dash and a flood of blue light overwhelms the display.  “Epona, shields!” I bark.

There’s a fizzle in the air and I’m momentarily blinded before my helmet can adjust to compensate for the sudden light.  A barrage of laser bolts hiss uselessly against the blue force field surrounding my bike and I grin and gun the engine as Hunter shoots the bots down.

“K, I’m good!  Neesha’s getting swarmed, go back her up!”

“No I’m not,” she snaps.  “There’s only like twelve of them.  I’m fine.”

Hunter rolls his eyes and peels away to go help our trigger happy companion.  “I don’t know why you don’t just leave that thing plugged in.  It drives me insane.”

“We could lose every gadget you’ve got in that trunk,” I tell him as I pitch and weave through the ruined street, looking for a ramp big enough to get me up onto the roofs, “and it would be expensive and complicated and dangerous as Hell to replace it, but we could do it.  How many other suns have we managed to pop into a bottle, hmm?  None.  It can’t be replaced.  We don’t even know how to replicate it.  I’m not taking any chances.”

The barrage of fire from the bots changes shape and frequency, as they try to find some combination or pattern that’ll break the S.E.B.’s shield, but they can’t.  Kane Co. and Dragmire Inc. might both be giant assholes, but they’re proprietary giant assholes, and there’s no one in Detroit – upper or lower – with the tech to disrupt the S.E.B..

“Well given that it won’t respond to anyone but you, Mr. I’m-Gonna-Touch-Experimental-Technology-I-Was-Explicitly-Told-Not-To-Touch, we’re not in much better shape if you take a laser to the head because you didn’t have it plugged in.”

I’d respond, but I just spotted my exit.  Right up to the roof with the tower.  Perfection.

“Hunter are you here yet?” Neesha demands.  “Not that I need the help, but it’s kinda hard to look for the source of these things when they’re all freaking over me.”

He mutters something at her about how police cars can’t fly so could she please come down just a little bit, but I've hit the broken ramp and am no longer listening.  The jump is a thing of beauty, and I’m grinning wildly as I sail from the earth.  There’s something about that weightless moment between lift off and impact, when not even gravity has a claim on you.  But it’s short lived.  Apparently the little buggers have figured out their lasers are useless and a few of them have settled for ramming into my shield at max speed mid-jump.

They shatter to pieces on impact, but the force of the hit combined with their little exploding bodies completely destroys my trajectory and sends my bike sailing off kilter.

The bike hits the side of the wall, just shy of the roof, and I come dangerously close to losing my seat as I take a handlebar in the stomach and my breath rushes out of me.  I just barely manage to gasp “Epona!  Hookshot!” as gravity seeks to remind me that its claim can NEVER be denied.  I grab the handlebars and hang on for dear life as the grappling hook explodes from the front of the bike and buries itself in the building.  Goddess I hope no one lived in that apartment.

The bike’s fall comes to an abrupt stop, and I wince audibly as my arms just about wrench themselves out of their sockets.

“There!” Neesha says.  “I see the entry point!

“En route,” Hunter responds automatically.  “You okay with the bots?”

“Why do you ask me stupid questions like that?” she demands, offended.  “Am I okay with the bots.  Do I LOOK like a Deluxian?”

The world is suddenly awash in the warm light of exploding robots as Neesha proves her point.  Her original mission accomplished, she is no longer hindered by having to pay attention to anything other than her favourite thing in the world, which is pushing every available button in that mech’s cock pit.  The number of hostiles on my HUD drops from 37 to 22 almost instantly.

I can never decide if I should be angry or relieved that the Gerudo are as proprietary as the giant assholes they fight.

“Watch your fire,” I grunt.  “You’re close to the upper infrastructure.  Last thing we need is you bringing Deluxe down on our heads.  Epona, retract.”  The chain groans as the bike starts pulling it back in, dragging itself – and me along with it – up closer to the actual roof.

“What is the point of even having a mech if you never let me unload?” she demands petulantly.  “Pew.  Pew.”  22 to 21.  “Wow.  That was so much fun.”

“Entry point disabled.  En route, Link,” Hunter says.

My bike hits the top of its chain and I wince – not close enough.  Still a few feet to climb.  I’m pretty sure the remaining 21 bots are here, swarming around outside my shield.  Hunter’s on his way, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to hang on that long.  My arms are aching.  I need to get up there, and fast, but the bots are moving in a holding pattern, waiting for me to lower the shield so they can get a shot.

Awesome.  My life is awesome.

Screw it, I’d rather get shot to death, than fall to it.

“Epona,” I grunt, bracing my feet on the bike’s seat, “eject S.E.B.”

I wait for the distinctive hissing sound, then instantly launch myself into motion.  The S.E.B. pops out of its slot and I grab it as I leap from the bike at the chain above it.  I hit the switch on the tube as the blue field around the bike fizzles and disappears.  The Kane bots buzz excitedly and ready their aim.  A burst of plasma so blue it’s white leaps from the mouth of the tube about the length of a good old fashioned sword.  The circuitry in my jacket hums to life as it starts pulling energy from the S.E.B. and a much smaller, vastly less encompassing force field sizzles into existence, generated by my right glove.  I swing myself around on the chain, pressing my back to the building and keeping the shield between my head/torso and the sudden barrage of laser shots, but I haven’t got anywhere near the mobility right now to protect anything else.  I cry out as several bolts burn across my legs.

Just...seriously awesome.

I reach around the shield to slash the plasma blade through the air, sending an arc of energy hurtling away from me.  It catches three of the bots in one go and they give an electronic shriek as they’re cut in half and tumble to the ground.  The unexpected loss of three units to an unfamiliar weapon sends the bots into defensive mode, and the intensity of the shots lessens as I scramble to pull myself up just a couple feet to the roof.  None of my limbs appreciate the effort, but that's too damn bad for them.

I’m there – my fingers are literally wrapped around the edge of safety – when one of the little bastards blows the wall of the building out from under my feet, and probably takes a good chunk of my leg with it.  My shoulder can’t take the second wrench and I lose my grip.

“Link!” Hunter cries as the squad car tears around the corner and he opens fire on the bots.  But the bots aren’t exactly the primary threat to my safety anymore, and there’s nothing he can do to catch me.

Lucky for me, the universe had a back-up plan.

A brown-skinned hand catches my gloved one, and wrenching or no wrenching, his grip is better than mine.  “Gotcha!” Mike Chilton says with a half-grin.

There’s an explosion of gunfire from both Hunter below and what I assume is the rest of the Burners on the roof.  The number of hostiles on my HUD starts dropping again as Mike pulls me up to safety.  From 15 down to 1 in as many seconds.

“Where’s—?” I start, but Neesha cuts me off.

“Pew pew,” she says.  1 down to 0.  “Tin can was playing hide and seek.  Way to almost die, by the way.  I’d’ve caught you, but I had to kill the bastard before it could report back home and somebody won’t let me use my big guns.”

“Shut up and bring me a first aid kit," I growl.  Mike helps me to my feet and slings one of my arms over his shoulders.  I attempt to put weight on either leg, but neither is in the mood to cooperate and it’s all I can do to bite back my yelps.  I glance at him from behind my helmet’s visor.  “Everyone in one piece on YOUR team at least?” I ask.

“Burners all fine,” he replies.  “Cars are a little messed up – Stronghorn’s totalled.  We’re more concerned about the fact that Kane took us by surprise with a force that large."

"Hey!" yells Texas, pausing in the act of tipping over the jamming tower, "we are NOT more concerned about ANYTHING other than Stronghorn, okay?  We are all VERY concerned about Stronghorn."  Julie pats his arm consolingly.

"You guys got here for the tail end of it," Mike continues.  "There were almost three times that many at the start.”

“Link!” cries Dutch.  He clasps his hands in front of him like he’s begging.  “My professional smuggling friend.  Please tell me you’ve got my guns.  Please.”

“Safe and sound, Dutch,” Hunter replies on the Burners’ channel.  I blink and turn to look at the tower, but it appears that Texas has torn a large number of wires free of the toppled machine.  Well, that’s that taken care of anyway.

“Thanks,” I manage as Mike sets me down near the rest of his crew.

There’s a dull roar as Neesha arrives and parks her mech unceremoniously on the roof.  She pops the cockpit and climbs out, glaring furiously at me.  “Hell!” she snarls and gestures at my legs.  “Way to go!  We’re never going to make up lost time now!”

“I’m so sorry,” I say sarcastically, then wince as Mike investigates the burns.  “How dare I get shot to pieces while dangling from a motorcycle suspended from a crumbling building by a thin yet supple chain?  So inconsiderate.”

“It kinda was,” Texas notes, earning himself an indulgent smile from Neesha.  “I mean, why didn’t you just make the jump?  Texas would have.”

"Yeah," says Neesha, "Texas would have."

I ball my hand up in Mike’s shirt and hiss a line of swear words as he tries to peel the pant leg back from another burn - or maybe it's just a gash.  Things are starting to get blurry.  “Permission to kill your teammate?” I gasp.

“Denied,” he answers amicably.  “You’re lucky none of these were direct hits.”

“Don’t feel particularly lucky right now,” I manage.  “Adrenaline’s wearing off, I don’t really want to be conscious anymore.  Do you have a safe house?”

He squeezes my shoulder and grins at me.  “Safest there is,” he says.