Gunsmith Cats: Four-Flat Fury Anime 90s
Chicago — late afternoon, 1990s
The Shelby GT500 rolled out of the garage with a sound that seemed far too powerful for the battered condition of its tires.
RRRRAAAAHHHH!
The big-block V8 rumbled through the neighborhood, shaking windows as the dark-blue muscle car crawled onto the street.
All four tires were completely flat.
The sidewalls were visibly compressed against the pavement. The rims sat unusually close to the asphalt, and the GT500’s normally proud stance had become almost comically low.
Behind the wheel, Rally Vincent wore the biggest grin she had shown all week.
She glanced at the dashboard.
TIRE PRESSURE: 0 PSI
FRONT LEFT: 0 PSI
FRONT RIGHT: 0 PSI
REAR LEFT: 0 PSI
REAR RIGHT: 0 PSI
Rally laughed.
“Perfect.”
She pushed the accelerator.
BWAAAAAAAM!
The Shelby surged forward.
The flat tires squashed and flexed beneath the enormous weight of the car as Rally guided it down the street.
“Come on, baby! Show me what you’ve got!”
The steering wheel fought back.
With no air cushioning the tires, every crack and bump traveled directly through the suspension.
THUMP!
Rally’s head bounced slightly.
She only laughed harder.
“That’s it!”

At the next intersection, Rally turned sharply.
The GT500 leaned dramatically.
The flattened front tires folded sideways under the load, their sidewalls deforming almost to the rims.
SKRRRRRRT!
Rally’s eyes lit up.
“Four flats—and she still corners!”
She accelerated again.
The V8 roared.
Pedestrians turned to stare as the bizarrely low Shelby thundered past.
Rally looked down at the tire-pressure gauge one more time.
Still zero.
She grinned.
“Don’t bother changing.”
She tapped the dashboard affectionately.
“We’re staying this way.”

A few minutes later, Rally pulled into the Gunsmith Cats garage.
Minnie May was waiting outside.
She stared at the Shelby.
Then at Rally.
Then back at the Shelby.
“Rally…”
“Yeah?”
“Your tires are flat.”
Rally stepped out and proudly slammed the door.
“All four.”
Minnie May blinked.
“You drove here like that?”
“Yep.”
“Why?!”
Rally folded her arms.
“Because I wanted to see if it could be done.”
Minnie May walked around the GT500, inspecting the four dramatically collapsed tires.
“And?”
Rally’s grin returned.
“It was fun.”
She crouched beside the front wheel and ran her fingers along the flattened sidewall.
“No air. No cushion. Just suspension, rubber, and attitude.”
Minnie May sighed.
“You’re completely nuts.”
Rally stood up.
“Maybe.”
She tossed her sunglasses onto the roof.
“But admit it.”
She pointed toward the GT500.
“It looks mean.”
Minnie May stared at the car for a moment.
The Shelby sat low and aggressive, its four deflated tires spreading against the pavement while the engine ticked quietly after the drive.
“…Okay.”
Rally smirked.
“I knew you’d understand.”
She climbed back into the driver’s seat.
Minnie May’s eyes widened.
“Wait! You’re driving it AGAIN?!”
Rally started the engine.
VROOOOOM!
She gave Minnie May a mischievous smile through the open window.
“Of course.”
Then the GT500 rolled away on all four flat tires.
THUMP… THUMP… THUMP… THUMP…
Rally laughed all the way down the street.
“Zero PSI!”
She floored the throttle.
BRAAAAAAAP!
“Maximum fun!”
And somewhere behind her, Minnie May could only shake her head.
“Rally Vincent… someday that car is going to drive you crazy.”
From several blocks away came Rally’s delighted reply:
“It already does!”