Of course, they underestimated us. They always do. Just a family car, they think. From somewhere where it's still safe to drive the highways. Don't believe all the stories.
There aren't any stories about us yet. Nobody to tell them, I guess.
The car they used to block the road had a big nasty-looking missile launcher mounted on it. It wasn't loaded, but they didn't expect us to be able to tell that.
Mom just grinned and floored the gas pedal. We already had our harnesses on--most of us kept them on all the time on these drives, but Alex was just at that age where he tried to be cool by showing he wasn't scared. Dad figured he might as well learn the hard way, and made him sit where he wouldn't hit anything if he did go flying.
At first they probably thought Mom'd just panicked and hit the gas by mistake. But then they realized we shouldn't be getting the acceleration we were...and then the ram plate sprung out. They tried to load their launcher, but they shouldn't have bothered. All they got for their efforts was turned into a smudge on the road. Mom hit their car at an angle and sent them skidding off the road. Dad sent one of our own rockets their way just in case.
By now they were beginning to think that we might be insane, which was okay because they'd still underestimate us. Me and Dave called out the cars and their positions as we saw them, and Sarah, who was riding in the turret, picked them off with ease.
Two-thirds of them were scattered all over the road before they started to fall back, realizing we were more than they could handle right now.
Mom pulled a full bootlegger reverse and went after them. I said there's nobody to tell stories about us yet.
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