Logan and the Monster Trucks

"Come on, Logan," said Pierce, his cybernetic finger snaking around the trigger of his rifle. "This ain't about you. We just want the tire."

"You can go to hell," Logan growled. Blood dripped from already closing wounds on his face and chest.

"Come on Logan!" said Pierce. "What do you want with that tire anyway? What's it to you?"

"I have to get this tire to a monster truck rally outside Dayton by Sunday," Logan said. "Otherwise my favourite monster trucker won't be able to compete."

Pierce's finger slid out from the trigger guard. "Who's your favourite monster trucker?"

"Duane 'The Unslain' McKenna," Logan said. "He's slated to face off against Truckzilla."

"You mean that truck that looks like a big metal T rex? The one that breathes fire and eats trucks for breakfast?"

Logan spat out a tooth. He could already feel its replacement beginning to push down into the empty space. "The very same."

Pierce raised his gun and turned to his band of Reavers. "Gentlemen, we have a new mission. We've got to get this tire to Dayton by Sunday!"

"Sunday! Sunday! Sunday!" the Reavers called out.

Pierce swivelled back to Logan. "If I do this - are we square?"

"Hell no," said Logan. "But get on my shoulders, I'll give you a piggyback ride."