It's raining, why did it have to be raining?
The tires span in futility on the tarmac, dragging water back into the air, while the cars motor went from a low grumbling thunder to a cacophonous scream of effort. The man checked in terror over his shoulder.
The door burst open capturing rain as it went and into the gloom came the woman, her uniform soiled by the wound spewing death from her chest. With gargantuan effort she lifted the revolver throwing the bullet towards the bastard, the flash illuminating not only the look of suicidal determination but also that of the spectators, bemused and terrified. The force driving through the woman putting her off balance.
The bullet wound it’s way through the space, cutting the air neatly, and in an instant had found it’s target. The dead weight spasming, continued the acceleration and the car, now a coffin, lurched inevitablty to the wall and came to a halt with a grinding complaint.