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Rebache
Act I Chapter II
“The Mid-Texan Circuit”
A1C2 Track
Doperide ~ Saliva (Every Six Seconds)
D: 11:14 p.m. June 9th, 2016
“Ok hunny… Sleep tight. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Sam said as he finished a lengthy phone call with Nicky.
Once the call had been dropped, Sam dropped his phone carelessly onto the passenger seat of his car. He gave a soft yawn as he tapped softly on the top of his steering wheel. With his other hand he scratched his slightly hairy face; he needed to shave soon. Even though Nicky liked the week long prickly fuzz on him, he found that it very annoyingly would scrape the skin on his neck more than anything else. With a sigh, Sam looked back down the straight, lengthy stretch of road before him. The only thing that was happening on the road way was the constant sweeping of the street lights that he passed underneath.
He currently was heading to a meet with his racing crew out in some privately owned air field that was occasionally rented out for some off-public-road action. It really was just a gathering of crews from as far as Louisiana, New Mexico, and as far North as Colorado meeting in the center of Texas for mingling, showing off, and some friendly racing for wagering. The local law enforcement were usually skeptical of such events, but they never intervened as long as what happened in the venue stayed in the venue.
A smile grew on his face as, off to the distant east, he could see lights beaming up into the dark sky from the flatlands miles out of the town he was passing through. The closer he got the more awake he became. There was just a certain atmosphere to events like these that kept him alive and adrenalized; he would even go so far to say he didn’t ever have to sleep at some of the longer events. There was just so much to do in the grand scheme of things. For him, these were like getting together with your closest group of friends and just pissing an entire night away on movies, food, and belligerently loud jesting.
After several minutes of driving, Sam turned a right onto the final road that lead to the venue’s entrance. He approached the entrance just after a Police Cruiser of the town near by rolled easily down the roadway in the opposite direction. He was a bit out of his jurisdiction, however just the usual patrol helped ease the public’s paranoia towards the racing event. He turned slowly into the venue’s drive and rolled up to the check in gate with his window rolled down. Inside the booth was a Latino lady in her younger 20’s with a green colored Mohawk and quite the mixture of tattoos and piercings over her mildly clothed body.
“Hey, Sam!” The girl greeted him from the booth.
“Hey Kia. How have you been?” Sam smiled at her.
“Oh you know… Bored as fuck out here while everyone dicks around in there…” She shrugged.
“Hang in there… When is your shift change?”
“In an hour and a half…”
“Ah…”
“You got your entrance fee?”
“Yup. Here you go.” Sam handed her a small bundle of folded of three one hundred dollar bills.
“Thankies!” Kia quickly counted the money and stuffed it into a safe box in the booth.
“Any time, Kia!” Sam chuckled. “See you in a bit?”
“You are going to be with Ali?” She asked, raising one of her drawn on eyebrows.
“Of course.” He smiled.
“Welcome to Battlemaster! Now go knock ‘em dead, killer!” She blew him a kiss off her dark maroon covered lips.
Sam gave a nod and rolled off through the gate as it opened. He rolled through the lane that ran back towards the majority of the attendees of the event. On either side of the lane was every type of car one would hope to see. There was everything from the notorious tuner crews of Atlanta to the truck crews of the panhandle of Oklahoma. In between the groups of crews were the occasional kiosks for food and water. In the center of the venue, inside of the lone large airplane hangar, was where all of the lights, music, and dancing were happening. Ali’s crew spot was near the hangar and so Sam pulled in slowly next to Ali’s Camaro and exited the Challenger after letting the rumbling engine shut off.
“There he is! That’s my boy!” Ali came over from a group around the crew’s cars and shook his hand.
“Calm down you dark skinned bastard…” Sam rolled his eyes and gave Ali a hug.
“Ey… Don’t you hate on me ‘cause I’m black.”
“You know I don’t.” Sam smiled.
“Yeah… ‘Cause your my white brother!” Ali laughed.
Ali Howard was the main assembler of everything the crew did together; he would even be considered by some just to be an ‘on-field’ manager of some sort. Despite this title given to him by his popularity, he didn’t have all that much pull other than telling everyone where stuff was going down and getting the crew into slots. His main perk to the crew was that he had the know-how and the vast web of connections; if there was a race anywhere or someone worth talking too in the area, he knew about it. In races he usually would stick close to Sam as he played the role of a ‘Spotter.’ This was someone who would tail behind a team mate to block and ensure that there would be no harassment from anybody behind the pair. Ali led Sam over to the rest of the crew. Of the crew was Ali, Jack, Nathan, Nick, Rose, and Sam.
Jack was crew’s tough guy. He was usually the one to speak up before anyone else if the crew or any of its members got challenged or bothered. He honestly wasn’t physically that intimidating, however he had one hell of a big mouth that he could use quiet well. He wasn’t uncommon to take a win for the crew, but he was typically better for blocking off opponents with his yellow wide bodied 2002 Toyota Twin Turbo. In races he was typically what Sam would call a “Wolf.” These were typically people who just fill up the empty spaces and harass the other crews. Of the entire crew, he was one of three of these wolves. The second wolf worth mentioning was Nathan.
Nathan was a lean and stringy and thin kid from Corpus Christi area. He was just a tad taller than Sam’s height of 6’1. He was mainly the source of entertainment for the group. This was largely due to the fact that he had a higher-than-averagely pitched voice, and that he was nearly always ranting, whining, glorifying, or debating something with the rest of the crew. Even as one of the crew’s wolves, he was very aggressive in terms of how he drove. If there was an opening that he could fit beastly red 1969 Dodge Charger R/T, then he would get it there. He didn’t win that much, but he was an invaluable asset to the group; even if his mouth never stopped.
The last crew wolf was the new kid, Nick. Of the entire crew, Nick was usually the quietest and most composed. He was always known as that weird guy who would talk about video games or computers while everyone in the room around him would be talking cars. He was, along with Jack, one of the few people who would totally tolerate Nathan’s constant talking. He was quite the racer, being better than Jack and Nathan in the grand scheme of things. This was probably mainly due to how well tuned his dark blue 2014 Hyundai Genesis Coupe was.
The one outlier, and non-official participant, of the crew was Rose, or Rosie to her preference. She was the typical punkish type of girl; she wore heavy makeup and dyed her hair black to compliment her black studded leather clothing. She had several piercings and tattoos along her thin figure. What she didn’t make up for with curves she made up with style and testosterone that would put any guy to shame. She drove a blackened 1935 Ford Model A Hot rod. The Model A had an enclosed cabin and an open engine compartment with the short exhaust pipes running to the side and a large open mouthed air intake on top of the engine block. While her vehicle choice was unorthodox, it fit her personality well and it was defiantly something you didn’t want to mess with off the start on a straight line run. She wasn’t actually a member of the crew, but she was nearly always with them.
Sam was not surprised to find that both Jack and Nick were both being bothered by whatever Nathan was ranting about.
“I am telling you, Nick! Marathon is the best game ever!” Nathan exclaimed.
“Nathan… shut up…” Nick groaned.
“But Marathon guy is the best though!” Nathan argued.
“I’m more partial to the DOOM Guy” Nick tried to tread lightly without losing his sense of pride.
“That is what you always say. Marathon guy is much better!” Nathan mindlessly retorted
“Dude!” Jack sighed. “Bungie has been making that game for 22 years! They did it once in the 90s, then rebooted it with Microsoft in the 00’s, and now they are making them again with updated graphics and calling them Marathon Anniversary!” Jack whined loudly. “Ten years from now, our kids will be playing another reboot of Marathon! Talk about cash cow…” Jack groaned.
“But it is a great game. What are they supposed to do?” Nathan challenged.
“Maybe make another story with some other space marine… I don’t know… Maybe throw in some parasite shit from The Thing movie, a several decade alien war, some giant planet sized rings of annihilation, and put him in green power armor! There is a ton to add to the ‘space marine’ trope” Nick proposed.
“Like Doom guy?” Jack chuckled.
“Oh my god… Doom guy sucks!” Nathan rolled his eyes.
“Are you kidding me?” Jack stood firm. “Doom guy went into hell and back twice without a shred of emotion of hesitation! Come on dude!”
“Shush! No one cares about a series that hasn’t been expanded for over 10 years.” Nathan sighed. “And Nick… That sounds cool! What would you call it?”
“Uhh… how about something with an H… there isn’t too many games with H’s” Nick began to answer after a pause.
“Ok, pixel gallery, shut up!” Sam diverted the conversation as he finally joined their group.
“Hey, look who is here. What’s up, man?” Jack broke from Nathan’s arguing and shook hands with Sam.
“Oh you know. Bored… Looking for some action.” Sam smiled.
“Well shit, you came to the right place, bro!” Ali chuckled from behind Sam.
“I bet…” Sam sighed. “Anything going on tonight so far?”
“Nope… not much at all…” Nick sighed.
“It’s still early on though, guys. Just wait.” Ali walked passed Sam.
“Your late, Sam.” Rosie piped in playfully from behind Nick.
“I am sorry for having a life, Rosie.” Sam sighed. “We can’t all just hide in a garage with cars all day.”
“You really could… You choose not to.” She spat with a smile.
“I will when you stop being a butch!” Sam chuckled.
“Oh shit! Shots fired!” Jack laughed.
“Oh fuck you, Sam! You know you can’t handle this.” Rosie rolled her eyes.
“I wouldn’t want to handle ‘that’” Sam crossed his arms and shook his head.
Rosie just waved him off with a roll of her eyes.
“Alright, guys… Let’s calm down now.” Ali waved the two down as a greenish late 00’s Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution X rolled to a stop near the crew; its engines gave slight hissing whines that were driven by turbo kits.
The driver got out of their Lancer and looked around at the cars of Ali’s crew. He wore a smug face as they looked over the group’s hoods and they seemed to scoff quietly. The one took a moment to whisper something to the other before they spoke.
“So we have two turners, an old time classic muscle car, a much older time Hot rod, a modern muscle car… and…” He paused as he looks at Sam’s car. “A stock Challenger…” He seemed to speak in a higher-than-thou manner.
Jack suddenly burst out laughing. “You think the Challenger is stock!?”
“Well it sure as hell isn’t a Hell Cat…”
“So?” Jack cocked his head, taking a step forward in front of Sam. Jack was always one to get Sam’s back.
“I have, as some say, thrown those kitties through the ringers several times…” He crossed his arm as he chuckled. “Where is the driver?”
“Here…” Sam stepped forward.
“Ah…”
“You shouldn’t really run your mouth, kid… You will get hurt.”
“Oh? With your little stock machine?”
“It’s not stock, bro!” Ali came, just as Jack did, to the defense of Sam. This guy clearly wasn’t from the area.
“Hmm… then what is it running?” the Lancer driver asked.
“It’s a 6.4 big block V8 that puts out about 660 horsepower…”
“Anything else?” he cocked his eye brow.
“Do you really need to know anything else?”
“Perhaps…” He paused. “Rear wheel drive?”
“Of course.”
“What is your zero to 60?”
“About 3.8 seconds on a good day.”
“Hmm…”
“Look dude, we don’t want any trouble…” Ali cut in casually.
“No… it’s alright, Ali.” Sam looked to Ali from the driver and back. “Are you looking for a race, kid?”
“I don’t know if your jalopy could handle my Evo.” The driver sneered.
“Kid… get that rice rocket out of here! It don’t have shit on that Challenger.” Rosie spoke up as she leaned on her hot rod.
“I wasn’t talking about you and your granny mobile.” The driver spat back at her.
“Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is?” Sam crossed his arms in slight annoyance. “How does 10 thousand sound for a mile run?”
“No. I don’t race for anything under 20 in my ride.”
“Then fuck it. 30 thousand to the winner; I’ll back it.” Ali cut in once again.
“You’ll bet 30 grand on a dodge Challenger? You’re joking…” The driver scoffed.
“I wouldn’t bet it on your car either, bud. Now let’s go!” Sam stepped up confidently.
The driver grumbled. “Fine… But don’t whine when my Evo kicks your boat to the curb!” The driver sneered before he turned back to his car.
“Sam… I’ll go set this up quickly. Get over there and get ready.” Ali told him as the Lancer driver turned his car on and roared off for the empty airstrip.
Sam simply nodded back as he went to his car.
“Whoo! First race of the night!” Jack exclaimed. “This is going to be good!”
“Well let’s get over there!” Nathan shouted as he slid into his Charger.
Sam got into his car and started it; the engine gave a mighty roar as it came back to life. Nathan and Ali rolled out of their spot first and lead the rest to the north end of the airstrip where there was already a station set up for just the occasion. Ali quickly got out and talked with the people at the station who were to set the set one mile drag race. Within a minute, as they were eager to get the night started, the station’s staff quickly set up everything and had the Challenger and the Lancer line up. They sat with their engines idling as a staff runner sped down the airstrip to the mile point to set up a flare to mark the finish.
Even in the short notice of time, the word had gotten out and quite the amount of people had made their way over to watch along the strip. The lights all came on to the starting point and the speakers began to blast Five Finger Death Punch as the staff prepared to start the race. The drivers were instructed to approach and to prepare for the line. The overly confident Lancer rolled forward first and came to an even stop even with the line. Sam instead, in order to heat the rubber of his back tires further, held the brake and stamped the gas pedal to the floor in first gear. The Challenger roared out loudly as the rear tires screamed as they were run against the static pavement. The sound of its roots type supercharger rang out high pitched just over the bellowing exhaust note. Sam slowly let off the brake and lurched forward several feet until he eased off the gas in order to stop at the line.
With the cars set and prepped, the light tree that one of the staff had put just in front of the lined up pair started up with the top series of preliminary lights. Sam clicked on his traction control, something he rarely did as he preferred the full operative control over his vehicle, and began to apply the gas pedal as he held the break. The lights of the tree began to fall down to green, with each light, the Challenger gave a menacing growl that completely over shadowed the turbo driven whine of the Lancer; the muscle car tilted slightly as the car torqued against the brakes.
The tree lit up green and Sam immediately got the jump in an instant as he slid his foot off of the pedal swiftly. His reaction time was unparalleled by most and this time was no different; he was the first off the line. Despite his reaction time, the Lancer had grip over the Challenger as it was an all-wheel drive vehicle, and so the Lancer quickly gained ground on the Challenger and stuck with it. The Lancer pulled ahead by several bounds before Sam’s traction control kicked in and forced the wheels to finally get the peak amount of traction they could handle. With a full solid grip on the pavement, the heated tires surged the Challenger forward after the Lancer.
The Challenger quickly began to gain ground on the Lancer. As the supercharged engine wailed loudly, Sam power shifted through the gear with vicious precision. Even against the automatic Lancer, Sam’s split second shifts proved dominate as the Challenger rumbled loudly passed the opponent. Several moments later, Sam crossed the finish line in between the two red flares that the staff had laid down by several seconds before the Lancer did taking a win from the cocky driver.
Sam turned around and sped back for the starting point to rejoin the crew. He pulled off to the side and left the Challenger idling as he got out of his car. He was instantly greeted with quite the amount of praise and ‘good jobs!’ After the very short celebration, they waited but a moment for the Lancer driver to come back to pay for his loss. It wasn’t very long off before the Lancer swiftly screeched to a halt before the group. The driver quickly got out and marched out to them, clearly upset.
“You cheat!” he accused of Sam.
“Woah, woah, woah! Bro?! How did he cheat?” Ali jumped up to Sam’s aid.
“He… Uh…” The driver locked up without a legitimate reason.
“I told you it wasn’t stock, dude.” Sam grinned “Now pay up.” Sam held out his hand.
The driver grumbled and went back to his car. He pulled out a stack of money from the glove box and shuffled out a large sum of money. With the money in hand he gave it to Ali. Ali gave a quick count of it as Sam just stood there with a smirk on his face at the driver.
“Thank you!” Ali smiled as he split the money with Sam before stuffing his half into his jacket pocket.
“Let’s see how long that smirk lasts on the streets! Cmon!” The driver eagerly challenged Sam onto the streets for illegal racing.
“Nope… You lost, kid. Deal with it.” Sam went and turned from the driver.
“You fucking pussy!”
“I suggest you not speak like that to one of the best drivers of this local circuit.” A smooth talking voice spoke out suddenly.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?!” The driver asked.
Sam turned back to see a black suited man walking up to the group. As he reached the Lancer driver, he pulled a roll of cash out of his inner suit and handed it to him. “Leave. Mr. Challenger and I have some business to discuss.”
The Lancer driver looked down stunned at the cash he was just given. Despite the second thoughts he might have, he swallowed them and quickly entered his car and sped off from them. The sharp dressed man waved Ali and the crew away to talk privately to Sam, and so they begrudgingly gave them some distance.
“Samuel…” The man started.
“Don’t call me that.” Sam spat quickly with a bit of aggression..
“…Sam… Apologies.”
“OK… Now what do you want? Who are you?”
“My name is Mr. Black and I apologize for the assumption.” He paused to lick his lips. Sam noticed that he had a black metallic collar around the base of his neck that was tucked neatly under his collar. This caught Sam’s eye for whatever reason. “My employer, Mr. Czar as he prefers to be addressed as, is the holder of some very built up and ‘dusty’ money he is sitting on, if you will.”
“Dusty?” Sam kind of cut him off at the end of his sentence.
“Yes. Dusty; old money. That sort of thing.”
“Ah…”
“Anyway… Sam, Mr. Czar has been very interested in you and your performance in the circuit as of late. He is considering you for a future endeavor that could result in you having a substantial slice of this money.”
“Huh…” Sam looked down, thinking.
“Are you interested in this?” The man asked outright.
“Yeah. But how will I know what to do when your being this cryptic?” Sam asked with a bit of uncertainty
“Mr. Czar has your number already… He will have me contact you personally… any more than that I cannot say.” With that he turned and began to walk away.
“Uh…hey!” Sam called to him, confused.
“It was nice making your acquaintance, Sam! Have a profitable night!” He left Sam in confusion.
“What the fuck…” Sam sighed as he rubbed the back of his head as he tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.
Rebache
Act I Chapter II
“The Mid-Texan Circuit”
A1C2 Track
Doperide ~ Saliva (Every Six Seconds)
D: 11:14 p.m. June 9th, 2016
“Ok hunny… Sleep tight. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Sam said as he finished a lengthy phone call with Nicky.
Once the call had been dropped, Sam dropped his phone carelessly onto the passenger seat of his car. He gave a soft yawn as he tapped softly on the top of his steering wheel. With his other hand he scratched his slightly hairy face; he needed to shave soon. Even though Nicky liked the week long prickly fuzz on him, he found that it very annoyingly would scrape the skin on his neck more than anything else. With a sigh, Sam looked back down the straight, lengthy stretch of road before him. The only thing that was happening on the road way was the constant sweeping of the street lights that he passed underneath.
He currently was heading to a meet with his racing crew out in some privately owned air field that was occasionally rented out for some off-public-road action. It really was just a gathering of crews from as far as Louisiana, New Mexico, and as far North as Colorado meeting in the center of Texas for mingling, showing off, and some friendly racing for wagering. The local law enforcement were usually skeptical of such events, but they never intervened as long as what happened in the venue stayed in the venue.
A smile grew on his face as, off to the distant east, he could see lights beaming up into the dark sky from the flatlands miles out of the town he was passing through. The closer he got the more awake he became. There was just a certain atmosphere to events like these that kept him alive and adrenalized; he would even go so far to say he didn’t ever have to sleep at some of the longer events. There was just so much to do in the grand scheme of things. For him, these were like getting together with your closest group of friends and just pissing an entire night away on movies, food, and belligerently loud jesting.
After several minutes of driving, Sam turned a right onto the final road that lead to the venue’s entrance. He approached the entrance just after a Police Cruiser of the town near by rolled easily down the roadway in the opposite direction. He was a bit out of his jurisdiction, however just the usual patrol helped ease the public’s paranoia towards the racing event. He turned slowly into the venue’s drive and rolled up to the check in gate with his window rolled down. Inside the booth was a Latino lady in her younger 20’s with a green colored Mohawk and quite the mixture of tattoos and piercings over her mildly clothed body.
“Hey, Sam!” The girl greeted him from the booth.
“Hey Kia. How have you been?” Sam smiled at her.
“Oh you know… Bored as fuck out here while everyone dicks around in there…” She shrugged.
“Hang in there… When is your shift change?”
“In an hour and a half…”
“Ah…”
“You got your entrance fee?”
“Yup. Here you go.” Sam handed her a small bundle of folded of three one hundred dollar bills.
“Thankies!” Kia quickly counted the money and stuffed it into a safe box in the booth.
“Any time, Kia!” Sam chuckled. “See you in a bit?”
“You are going to be with Ali?” She asked, raising one of her drawn on eyebrows.
“Of course.” He smiled.
“Welcome to Battlemaster! Now go knock ‘em dead, killer!” She blew him a kiss off her dark maroon covered lips.
Sam gave a nod and rolled off through the gate as it opened. He rolled through the lane that ran back towards the majority of the attendees of the event. On either side of the lane was every type of car one would hope to see. There was everything from the notorious tuner crews of Atlanta to the truck crews of the panhandle of Oklahoma. In between the groups of crews were the occasional kiosks for food and water. In the center of the venue, inside of the lone large airplane hangar, was where all of the lights, music, and dancing were happening. Ali’s crew spot was near the hangar and so Sam pulled in slowly next to Ali’s Camaro and exited the Challenger after letting the rumbling engine shut off.
“There he is! That’s my boy!” Ali came over from a group around the crew’s cars and shook his hand.
“Calm down you dark skinned bastard…” Sam rolled his eyes and gave Ali a hug.
“Ey… Don’t you hate on me ‘cause I’m black.”
“You know I don’t.” Sam smiled.
“Yeah… ‘Cause your my white brother!” Ali laughed.
Ali Howard was the main assembler of everything the crew did together; he would even be considered by some just to be an ‘on-field’ manager of some sort. Despite this title given to him by his popularity, he didn’t have all that much pull other than telling everyone where stuff was going down and getting the crew into slots. His main perk to the crew was that he had the know-how and the vast web of connections; if there was a race anywhere or someone worth talking too in the area, he knew about it. In races he usually would stick close to Sam as he played the role of a ‘Spotter.’ This was someone who would tail behind a team mate to block and ensure that there would be no harassment from anybody behind the pair. Ali led Sam over to the rest of the crew. Of the crew was Ali, Jack, Nathan, Nick, Rose, and Sam.
Jack was crew’s tough guy. He was usually the one to speak up before anyone else if the crew or any of its members got challenged or bothered. He honestly wasn’t physically that intimidating, however he had one hell of a big mouth that he could use quiet well. He wasn’t uncommon to take a win for the crew, but he was typically better for blocking off opponents with his yellow wide bodied 2002 Toyota Twin Turbo. In races he was typically what Sam would call a “Wolf.” These were typically people who just fill up the empty spaces and harass the other crews. Of the entire crew, he was one of three of these wolves. The second wolf worth mentioning was Nathan.
Nathan was a lean and stringy and thin kid from Corpus Christi area. He was just a tad taller than Sam’s height of 6’1. He was mainly the source of entertainment for the group. This was largely due to the fact that he had a higher-than-averagely pitched voice, and that he was nearly always ranting, whining, glorifying, or debating something with the rest of the crew. Even as one of the crew’s wolves, he was very aggressive in terms of how he drove. If there was an opening that he could fit beastly red 1969 Dodge Charger R/T, then he would get it there. He didn’t win that much, but he was an invaluable asset to the group; even if his mouth never stopped.
The last crew wolf was the new kid, Nick. Of the entire crew, Nick was usually the quietest and most composed. He was always known as that weird guy who would talk about video games or computers while everyone in the room around him would be talking cars. He was, along with Jack, one of the few people who would totally tolerate Nathan’s constant talking. He was quite the racer, being better than Jack and Nathan in the grand scheme of things. This was probably mainly due to how well tuned his dark blue 2014 Hyundai Genesis Coupe was.
The one outlier, and non-official participant, of the crew was Rose, or Rosie to her preference. She was the typical punkish type of girl; she wore heavy makeup and dyed her hair black to compliment her black studded leather clothing. She had several piercings and tattoos along her thin figure. What she didn’t make up for with curves she made up with style and testosterone that would put any guy to shame. She drove a blackened 1935 Ford Model A Hot rod. The Model A had an enclosed cabin and an open engine compartment with the short exhaust pipes running to the side and a large open mouthed air intake on top of the engine block. While her vehicle choice was unorthodox, it fit her personality well and it was defiantly something you didn’t want to mess with off the start on a straight line run. She wasn’t actually a member of the crew, but she was nearly always with them.
Sam was not surprised to find that both Jack and Nick were both being bothered by whatever Nathan was ranting about.
“I am telling you, Nick! Marathon is the best game ever!” Nathan exclaimed.
“Nathan… shut up…” Nick groaned.
“But Marathon guy is the best though!” Nathan argued.
“I’m more partial to the DOOM Guy” Nick tried to tread lightly without losing his sense of pride.
“That is what you always say. Marathon guy is much better!” Nathan mindlessly retorted
“Dude!” Jack sighed. “Bungie has been making that game for 22 years! They did it once in the 90s, then rebooted it with Microsoft in the 00’s, and now they are making them again with updated graphics and calling them Marathon Anniversary!” Jack whined loudly. “Ten years from now, our kids will be playing another reboot of Marathon! Talk about cash cow…” Jack groaned.
“But it is a great game. What are they supposed to do?” Nathan challenged.
“Maybe make another story with some other space marine… I don’t know… Maybe throw in some parasite shit from The Thing movie, a several decade alien war, some giant planet sized rings of annihilation, and put him in green power armor! There is a ton to add to the ‘space marine’ trope” Nick proposed.
“Like Doom guy?” Jack chuckled.
“Oh my god… Doom guy sucks!” Nathan rolled his eyes.
“Are you kidding me?” Jack stood firm. “Doom guy went into hell and back twice without a shred of emotion of hesitation! Come on dude!”
“Shush! No one cares about a series that hasn’t been expanded for over 10 years.” Nathan sighed. “And Nick… That sounds cool! What would you call it?”
“Uhh… how about something with an H… there isn’t too many games with H’s” Nick began to answer after a pause.
“Ok, pixel gallery, shut up!” Sam diverted the conversation as he finally joined their group.
“Hey, look who is here. What’s up, man?” Jack broke from Nathan’s arguing and shook hands with Sam.
“Oh you know. Bored… Looking for some action.” Sam smiled.
“Well shit, you came to the right place, bro!” Ali chuckled from behind Sam.
“I bet…” Sam sighed. “Anything going on tonight so far?”
“Nope… not much at all…” Nick sighed.
“It’s still early on though, guys. Just wait.” Ali walked passed Sam.
“Your late, Sam.” Rosie piped in playfully from behind Nick.
“I am sorry for having a life, Rosie.” Sam sighed. “We can’t all just hide in a garage with cars all day.”
“You really could… You choose not to.” She spat with a smile.
“I will when you stop being a butch!” Sam chuckled.
“Oh shit! Shots fired!” Jack laughed.
“Oh fuck you, Sam! You know you can’t handle this.” Rosie rolled her eyes.
“I wouldn’t want to handle ‘that’” Sam crossed his arms and shook his head.
Rosie just waved him off with a roll of her eyes.
“Alright, guys… Let’s calm down now.” Ali waved the two down as a greenish late 00’s Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution X rolled to a stop near the crew; its engines gave slight hissing whines that were driven by turbo kits.
The driver got out of their Lancer and looked around at the cars of Ali’s crew. He wore a smug face as they looked over the group’s hoods and they seemed to scoff quietly. The one took a moment to whisper something to the other before they spoke.
“So we have two turners, an old time classic muscle car, a much older time Hot rod, a modern muscle car… and…” He paused as he looks at Sam’s car. “A stock Challenger…” He seemed to speak in a higher-than-thou manner.
Jack suddenly burst out laughing. “You think the Challenger is stock!?”
“Well it sure as hell isn’t a Hell Cat…”
“So?” Jack cocked his head, taking a step forward in front of Sam. Jack was always one to get Sam’s back.
“I have, as some say, thrown those kitties through the ringers several times…” He crossed his arm as he chuckled. “Where is the driver?”
“Here…” Sam stepped forward.
“Ah…”
“You shouldn’t really run your mouth, kid… You will get hurt.”
“Oh? With your little stock machine?”
“It’s not stock, bro!” Ali came, just as Jack did, to the defense of Sam. This guy clearly wasn’t from the area.
“Hmm… then what is it running?” the Lancer driver asked.
“It’s a 6.4 big block V8 that puts out about 660 horsepower…”
“Anything else?” he cocked his eye brow.
“Do you really need to know anything else?”
“Perhaps…” He paused. “Rear wheel drive?”
“Of course.”
“What is your zero to 60?”
“About 3.8 seconds on a good day.”
“Hmm…”
“Look dude, we don’t want any trouble…” Ali cut in casually.
“No… it’s alright, Ali.” Sam looked to Ali from the driver and back. “Are you looking for a race, kid?”
“I don’t know if your jalopy could handle my Evo.” The driver sneered.
“Kid… get that rice rocket out of here! It don’t have shit on that Challenger.” Rosie spoke up as she leaned on her hot rod.
“I wasn’t talking about you and your granny mobile.” The driver spat back at her.
“Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is?” Sam crossed his arms in slight annoyance. “How does 10 thousand sound for a mile run?”
“No. I don’t race for anything under 20 in my ride.”
“Then fuck it. 30 thousand to the winner; I’ll back it.” Ali cut in once again.
“You’ll bet 30 grand on a dodge Challenger? You’re joking…” The driver scoffed.
“I wouldn’t bet it on your car either, bud. Now let’s go!” Sam stepped up confidently.
The driver grumbled. “Fine… But don’t whine when my Evo kicks your boat to the curb!” The driver sneered before he turned back to his car.
“Sam… I’ll go set this up quickly. Get over there and get ready.” Ali told him as the Lancer driver turned his car on and roared off for the empty airstrip.
Sam simply nodded back as he went to his car.
“Whoo! First race of the night!” Jack exclaimed. “This is going to be good!”
“Well let’s get over there!” Nathan shouted as he slid into his Charger.
Sam got into his car and started it; the engine gave a mighty roar as it came back to life. Nathan and Ali rolled out of their spot first and lead the rest to the north end of the airstrip where there was already a station set up for just the occasion. Ali quickly got out and talked with the people at the station who were to set the set one mile drag race. Within a minute, as they were eager to get the night started, the station’s staff quickly set up everything and had the Challenger and the Lancer line up. They sat with their engines idling as a staff runner sped down the airstrip to the mile point to set up a flare to mark the finish.
Even in the short notice of time, the word had gotten out and quite the amount of people had made their way over to watch along the strip. The lights all came on to the starting point and the speakers began to blast Five Finger Death Punch as the staff prepared to start the race. The drivers were instructed to approach and to prepare for the line. The overly confident Lancer rolled forward first and came to an even stop even with the line. Sam instead, in order to heat the rubber of his back tires further, held the brake and stamped the gas pedal to the floor in first gear. The Challenger roared out loudly as the rear tires screamed as they were run against the static pavement. The sound of its roots type supercharger rang out high pitched just over the bellowing exhaust note. Sam slowly let off the brake and lurched forward several feet until he eased off the gas in order to stop at the line.
With the cars set and prepped, the light tree that one of the staff had put just in front of the lined up pair started up with the top series of preliminary lights. Sam clicked on his traction control, something he rarely did as he preferred the full operative control over his vehicle, and began to apply the gas pedal as he held the break. The lights of the tree began to fall down to green, with each light, the Challenger gave a menacing growl that completely over shadowed the turbo driven whine of the Lancer; the muscle car tilted slightly as the car torqued against the brakes.
The tree lit up green and Sam immediately got the jump in an instant as he slid his foot off of the pedal swiftly. His reaction time was unparalleled by most and this time was no different; he was the first off the line. Despite his reaction time, the Lancer had grip over the Challenger as it was an all-wheel drive vehicle, and so the Lancer quickly gained ground on the Challenger and stuck with it. The Lancer pulled ahead by several bounds before Sam’s traction control kicked in and forced the wheels to finally get the peak amount of traction they could handle. With a full solid grip on the pavement, the heated tires surged the Challenger forward after the Lancer.
The Challenger quickly began to gain ground on the Lancer. As the supercharged engine wailed loudly, Sam power shifted through the gear with vicious precision. Even against the automatic Lancer, Sam’s split second shifts proved dominate as the Challenger rumbled loudly passed the opponent. Several moments later, Sam crossed the finish line in between the two red flares that the staff had laid down by several seconds before the Lancer did taking a win from the cocky driver.
Sam turned around and sped back for the starting point to rejoin the crew. He pulled off to the side and left the Challenger idling as he got out of his car. He was instantly greeted with quite the amount of praise and ‘good jobs!’ After the very short celebration, they waited but a moment for the Lancer driver to come back to pay for his loss. It wasn’t very long off before the Lancer swiftly screeched to a halt before the group. The driver quickly got out and marched out to them, clearly upset.
“You cheat!” he accused of Sam.
“Woah, woah, woah! Bro?! How did he cheat?” Ali jumped up to Sam’s aid.
“He… Uh…” The driver locked up without a legitimate reason.
“I told you it wasn’t stock, dude.” Sam grinned “Now pay up.” Sam held out his hand.
The driver grumbled and went back to his car. He pulled out a stack of money from the glove box and shuffled out a large sum of money. With the money in hand he gave it to Ali. Ali gave a quick count of it as Sam just stood there with a smirk on his face at the driver.
“Thank you!” Ali smiled as he split the money with Sam before stuffing his half into his jacket pocket.
“Let’s see how long that smirk lasts on the streets! Cmon!” The driver eagerly challenged Sam onto the streets for illegal racing.
“Nope… You lost, kid. Deal with it.” Sam went and turned from the driver.
“You fucking pussy!”
“I suggest you not speak like that to one of the best drivers of this local circuit.” A smooth talking voice spoke out suddenly.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?!” The driver asked.
Sam turned back to see a black suited man walking up to the group. As he reached the Lancer driver, he pulled a roll of cash out of his inner suit and handed it to him. “Leave. Mr. Challenger and I have some business to discuss.”
The Lancer driver looked down stunned at the cash he was just given. Despite the second thoughts he might have, he swallowed them and quickly entered his car and sped off from them. The sharp dressed man waved Ali and the crew away to talk privately to Sam, and so they begrudgingly gave them some distance.
“Samuel…” The man started.
“Don’t call me that.” Sam spat quickly with a bit of aggression..
“…Sam… Apologies.”
“OK… Now what do you want? Who are you?”
“My name is Mr. Black and I apologize for the assumption.” He paused to lick his lips. Sam noticed that he had a black metallic collar around the base of his neck that was tucked neatly under his collar. This caught Sam’s eye for whatever reason. “My employer, Mr. Czar as he prefers to be addressed as, is the holder of some very built up and ‘dusty’ money he is sitting on, if you will.”
“Dusty?” Sam kind of cut him off at the end of his sentence.
“Yes. Dusty; old money. That sort of thing.”
“Ah…”
“Anyway… Sam, Mr. Czar has been very interested in you and your performance in the circuit as of late. He is considering you for a future endeavor that could result in you having a substantial slice of this money.”
“Huh…” Sam looked down, thinking.
“Are you interested in this?” The man asked outright.
“Yeah. But how will I know what to do when your being this cryptic?” Sam asked with a bit of uncertainty
“Mr. Czar has your number already… He will have me contact you personally… any more than that I cannot say.” With that he turned and began to walk away.
“Uh…hey!” Sam called to him, confused.
“It was nice making your acquaintance, Sam! Have a profitable night!” He left Sam in confusion.
“What the fuck…” Sam sighed as he rubbed the back of his head as he tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.
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