Even the tank gunners couldn't believe what they'd just witnessed.
Leon had dodged a tank shell.
In all his years of service, the veteran gunner had never seen anything like it.
No car could ever escape a tank bombardment—
unless it could somehow lock on to the incoming shell itself.
But… that's impossible. Right?
He hesitated, confused—
and unknowingly guessed the truth.
Inside the cockpit of the Diomas, Leon's voice was calm and sharp as ice.
"Lock onto the tank positions."
"Targets locked," the onboard AI confirmed.
Even though the tanks were hidden deep in cover,
the Tuatara's advanced sensors pierced the terrain and marked them instantly.
"Select attack mode."
On Leon's display appeared three options:
Missile / Gravity Wave / Laser.
He had one missile left, more than enough to take out a tank—
but there were two.
Leon didn't believe in half-measures.
"Leaving survivors isn't my style," he muttered.
"Gravity Wave — effectiveness?"
"Insufficient. Armor thickness too high. May damage but not destroy."
True enough: the gravity pulse was devastating against ordinary vehicles,
but against a main-battle tank, its pressure field couldn't punch through.
That left the laser.
Fast, precise, unstoppable.
Leon had seen what it could do before—
even his system's energy shield barely held against it.
He grinned, remembering the time it carved a dent straight into an armored chassis.
"Use the laser. Blow them to hell."
His eyes gleamed with lethal excitement.
Then came the spectacle.
The world dimmed.
Every other light seemed to die as the Diomas's headlamps flared like miniature suns.
A red beam condensed at the core—
so bright it looked as if the car itself were challenging the heavens.
It was beautiful and terrifying, a weapon of pure judgment.
The gunners froze.
Their instincts screamed that they'd seen this before—
a top-secret prototype laser platform, with a range of 30 kilometers.
But that system required an entire reactor.
How could it possibly fit in a car?
The answer came an instant later.
A column of crimson light lanced through the night sky.
It didn't roar—light was too fast for sound.
But its silent fury was louder than any explosion.
The beam struck.
BOOOOM!
Both tanks erupted into twin fireballs.
A chain reaction tore through their ammo stores—
an explosion rivaling missile strikes.
Flames shot a hundred meters high;
shockwaves flattened grass, scorched trees, and left the ground a glowing wasteland.
The once-green field became an inferno, a glimpse of hell on Earth.
Behind, Tobey's SSC bucked violently as the blast wave slammed into it.
The car rocked like it was caught in a hurricane.
He wrestled with the wheel, teeth clenched, sweat flying.
"Damn it!"
Fear mixed with awe.
What had he just seen?
A laser cannon, mounted on a car.
"This… this has to be the most over-equipped vehicle in all of America!" he gasped.
Speed alone, he could handle.
Weapons, maybe.
But both?
This was no car—it was a mobile fortress.
A one-man army.
His worldview shattered completely.
Leon wasn't just a driver anymore—
he was something beyond human.
Up above, news helicopters caught everything.
When the tanks exploded, every cameraman froze, jaws dropped.
"A car… destroyed tanks?!"
"Was that—was that a laser?!"
"No way, this can't be real—this looks like a movie!"
Social media went nuclear.
Clips of the blast looped across every platform.
Two tanks down. One car standing.
All of America was in shock—
and then, the West Coast started cheering.
"That's our West Coast God—Leon!"
Bars erupted in celebration; people raised their glasses, chanting:
"To Leon!"
"To the Car God!"
"To America's Number One Driver!"
Meanwhile, in Washington, President was not celebrating.
"Tanks? Who authorized tanks?!" he barked at his Defense Secretary, Pat.
Pat, a sweaty ex-Boeing engineer with zero combat sense, stammered,
"Sir—I uh—I don't know! I'll investigate!"
Inside, Pat was fuming.
Which idiot had ordered a tank strike without his approval?
Was someone trying to set him up—to make him the fall guy?
President slammed his desk.
"You can't even control your own troops. What if it had been foreign agents?!"
Then the monitors flickered again—
a roadblock appeared ahead of Leon, complete with a collapsed bridge and an armed assault team setting up an ambush.
President's face went crimson.
"Who the hell gave them authorization?!"
Pat went pale.
He hadn't signed off on any of this.
Now, it looked like Leon was driving straight into a kill zone.
And for once—
even the "God of Speed" might be in danger.
~~----------------------
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