The aerovehicles continued their cat-and-mouse game as they flew toward the City of Metal. When they reached Metalopolitan airspace, the interceptors veered off. No more shots were fired.
At the police station, the handcuffed couple was placed in a processing line of metalhead criminals and deviants. The guitar wasn’t with them. The line wasn’t moving very fast; it appeared they were about an hour from the window desk. The highs and lows of the chase and now the wait were extreme.
“Dang. What’s the deal?” asked Riff.
“Can’t be good,” replied Bubblegum.