Chapter 380: James Called the Missing Bridge a Feature

Lukas reached across the driver’s station and pulled James’s foot off the accelerator before our stolen bathroom could become the world’s least relaxing airborne experience.

James braked near the warning fence, leaving the front wheels far enough from the edge that I stopped calculating which parts of him I would bite first.

"All gas, no brakes, bruv, because you can’t judge a gap without committing a little."

"You could start by looking at the missing fucking bridge, which seemed to be offering a fairly clear opinion."

The gap swallowed a whole section of roadway above a dry drainage channel. A temporary repair deck ran lower down, connected by narrow ramps on either bank, but a locked barrier stopped vehicles from reaching it.

Galaxy Brain gave me a clean view of the measurements I could actually see. It didn’t provide a secret engine boost, improve James’s judgment or make the bathhouse weigh less than a poorly planned mansion.

The main gap was too wide. The service deck was wide enough if we folded the decorative balconies and approached slowly, which seemed likely to offend the driver more than falling to his death.

[System: Tell him the slow route’s exclusive, mate. Slap a velvet rope on it and the flash little bastard will queue for an hour to feel important.]

I was going to tell him it had a floor, but your version probably had better marketing.

Lukas found the balcony controls beside the lighting panel. Brass railings folded inward with a grinding sound, and somewhere behind us a recorded voice welcomed us to a fully personalized relaxation journey.

A shower door slammed open as the vehicle tilted down the access ramp. Two unopened soap bottles shot along the corridor, followed by a wooden stool that hit a cabinet hard enough to cancel its warranty.

James glanced back. "That’s normally a lot quieter when you haven’t stolen it."

I wrapped a tendril around the stool before it reached Lukas and suggested putting that useful advice on the next vehicle’s ignition key.

The barrier at the bottom had a control box on the far side of a missing walkway section. Its gate stood on a sound piece of deck, but reaching the switch on foot meant crossing a gap above the drainage channel.

Lukas could see the controls from our side. I could see clear space beside him and a landing spot beyond the break, less than fifteen meters away and inside the same dusty air.

"I’ll put you across, then you open the gate. We were stealing a spa, not becoming an educational film about falling."

I activated Backdoor Bludger and watched Lukas step through. He reached the other side before half the eight seconds had passed, then checked the controls while the openings closed behind him.

Three minutes appeared on my cooldown. James asked whether I could make another portal large enough for the bathhouse, and I asked whether he could make another brain large enough for the question.

The control box still had power. Lukas released the ordinary gate lock, rolled the barrier aside and waved us forward after checking the deck’s load sign against the vehicle plate James read aloud.

For a beautiful moment, the plan involved numbers, working controls and nobody trying to impress anybody.

Then the first pursuit vehicle appeared on the upper road.

Its camera boom rose before its weapon, which told me Rex still wanted a useful picture of whatever happened next. A second vehicle stopped behind it, and two guards climbed out to find a view past the bridge fence.

James eased the bathhouse onto the service deck. I stayed near the rear window, using the frame as cover while Lukas waited at the far end to guide our wheels around the narrower turn.

The first shot struck the decorative water tank above the rear lounge. Water burst through the side panel and ran down the windows, turning the relaxation journey into a plumbing complaint with witnesses.

[System: They’re shooting your complimentary bathwater, you goth firehose. Bloody animals, and not one of them brought a towel.]

That sounded like an opportunity with terrible floor traction.

I found the maintenance drain lever beside the tank gauge. The diagram showed its outlet above the rear service hatch, where staff normally connected a hose before emptying the tank into a proper drain.

We were currently short one hose and several good decisions.

I pulled the lever while James climbed the opposite ramp. Water poured backward across the deck and over the pursuit crew’s lowered camera platform as they tried to follow us down from the upper road.

One operator threw his coat over the controls. Another dropped the microphone and grabbed the rail with both hands when the wet deck slid beneath him, leaving their live coverage pointed at a guard’s furious backside.

Lukas climbed through our open side door at the top of the ramp. James kept the speed low until he was safely inside, which briefly suggested the man had a survival instinct hidden beneath the jewelry.

The damaged tank continued draining while the recorded voice invited us to enjoy our journey. I considered stealing the speaker too, because it handled disappointment better than most people I knew.

We passed between two old support walls and reached a wider service lane. Ahead, another road curved down from the ridge, joining ours beyond the bridge we had avoided.

A clean white car stopped at that junction.

Rex stepped out before its wheels settled, his robe gone and his suit still offensively tidy. He had used the intact road around the channel while his camera crew struggled beneath us, which was the first sensible decision I had seen anyone make all morning.

James swore and steered toward the support walls again. Before he could turn us out of sight, two faint marks appeared on separate fittings inside the bathhouse, metal Rex had already touched while it belonged to him. Together with the cart behind us, that made three known marked objects.

The nearest sat on the brass rail directly beside James’s head, and it began to brighten.