By Kit Gainer

What's that black cloud behind you? It's not the storm, is it? Look at the desert road behind you. Bikers. Lots of them, and coming fast. You don't know what they want, but the way they're riding, you'll soon find out...

Thunder of engines. Flashing red lights. "Pull over!" demands a harsh voice. It's the CHP. You're safe, or are you? "What's your business with me, Officer? I'm anxious to make Los Angeles before the storm hits," you say, handing over your ID. Rain begins to fall as heavy hands pull you onto the blacktop. You scream as a baton strikes your head, but rough laughter drowns out your cries.

"You see, boys! It's like I said...who would suspect us? No one, until it's far too late. Soon, all that is owed to us will be ours. Now, tie him up. We'll take him back to the compound. Soon we will launch our attack. With the codes he's got, we got it made. Search the car for docs and maps. Then push it into the canyon." Laying on the ground, your hand reaches slowly for the Derringer strapped to your ankle. You have three choices:

1.Cap the nearest cop, go for his gun, and shoot it out. 2.Stay cool, and hope they don't search you. 3. Cap the nearest cop, and try to escape.