Racer Ex Machina

The Setting

North Colorado Blvd.

Here things deteriorate a little from the rest of the Sioux FTZ, mainly because of its remote locale. Frontage Rd. is a ways to the south, and while the wall separating the UCAS from the Sioux FTZ is patrolled, up this way the patrols are infrequent and at best cursory. The large square mileage of this area combined with the isolation makes it a low priority. Higher elevation marks the west making the area even more isolated and prone to more covert activities.

Its said that a few gangs have a hangout or two around here, so it can be a dangerous place to be lost and/or alone and unfamiliar to the residents of the area. There are a few low income neighborhoods scattered about but for the most part people and businesses are highly spread out over the miles between Interstate 270 to the north and Frontage Road to the South. The wall to the UCAS territories is also almost a mile away to the east.

Contents:
Tanasen [Player]
Ophiophagus [Player]
Aladriel [Player]
Minos [Player]
Lilith [Player]
Daemon Starks [Player]
Blindside [Player]
Kade[Player]
Selene [Player]
Grammercy[Player]
Skylar[Player]
Obvious exits (Current location: Sioux FTZ - Security Rating: Low):
Frontage Road <S> Sitting Bear Shooting Range <SB> Wrench's Werks <WW> ScrapYard <SY> Under Highway <UH>

Arrivals

Grammercy shows up out of curiosity. She hangs in the shadows leaning up against a large concrete support column watching as the crowds gather about and place side bets here and there.

Skyler walks his way towards the place where the race is supposed to happen.

Headlights appear from further up the road, a deep throttle of a rumble coming from what can only be a massive big block muscle car growling at the road as it drives towards the meeting point. Following the massive muscle car, is a sleek luxury modern Toyota Elite Sedan with limo tinted windows, lights dim and purring meekly underneath the massive Hemi Barracuda. ANd yet, a third vehicle in the caravan appear behind the first two; a large GMC Bulldog in all black and tinted windows bringing up the rear.

Grammercy is hanging out, leaning up against a concrete support column. She drove in a while ago, parked her LS Toyota in with all the neo speeders making bets and shit while they pose and look bad-ass. Mercy, simply walked away from her car with a *chirp-chirp* of the alarm and a nod to the banga's giving her the dirty eye-ball. She is here to watch the race, not get in a mix with the go-go-go gangers. Hopefully they are here for the same.

Skyler looks at the cars and goes, "Wow." He smokes a pipe that smells distinctly of lavender, bourbon, and marijuana. "This should be fun!" He wanders over towards where Grammercy and Kassandra are and says, "Hi! I'm Skyler Sunshine, what's your name?"

The sound of massive engine comes rumbling down the street, the remaining asphalt left from Starks's armada of rolling metal illuminated by the headlight-rack of a Conestoga Trailblazer Big Rig. Air brakes hiss as it comes to a stop nearby, the jet black trucks engines idling quietly. The side door to the cab opens, and a small elevator slides out of the bodywork.

Lit up like a Christmas tree in the darkness by the fiber optics in his hair and eyes, Blindside steps on to the elevator and rides it to the ground like Emperor Maximus coming in to the forum.

Kassandra is currently working a number of side bets, dealing with a number of gangers, goombas, and other assorted nightlife. The woman occasionally trades other goods as well as cash and bets, keeping a steady pace. She glances towards Skyler, absently waving a hand to clear some of the smoke away. "Evening."

Skyler moves the pipe downwind so he isn't bothering Kassandra and says, "Sorry about that, I always have to quality-test my latest herbal brews. Weren't you at the Pentabucks? What's your name? Are you taking, like, bets?"

The caravan of three vehicles comes to a rolling stop, the heavy muscle car in front and rumbling an echo that
vibrates the air around it as the ground shimmers from the neon blue ground effects that glow from the undercarriage. A revving that roars like a massive lion erupts with a quick throttle and escape of flame from the exhausts that give an almost fireworks display.. then the engine comes to a quiet halt with the other two vehicles staying on for a bit.

Daemon Starks steps out of the Hemi Barracuda's driver seat, stepping up and out of the vehicle with a smooth motion of pulling his leather jacket around his waist; shutting the door behind him. He steps around the front end and stands with the headlights giving him a silhouette of light and darkness.

The second vehicle allows a large Italian thug to exit the passenger seat, and a fat Italian Ork getting ouf of the back seat with an air of authority and a designer suit to match. The driver remains within the hidden dark limo tint.

The security van comes remains silently running, no one visible inside dark tint and no one getting out.
Grammercy looks at the little halfer and gives a kind of look like someone would give a scab. Something about the man sets her on to her feet and she moves away from the man over to a place nearer the vehicles that are involved in the race.

Starks has come, and brought an armada of vehicles. A Toyota Elite Sedan with tinted windows, A GMC Bulldog, all black with tinted windows and the star of the Italian Shark's Show; the 1971 Barracuda with the Hemi in it. Thats right folks, a car nearly a hundred slotten years old. They dominate the road until a bigger vehicle shows up…

The sound of massive engine comes rumbling down the street, the remaining asphalt left from Starks's armada of rolling metal illuminated by the headlight-rack of a Conestoga TRailblazer Big Rig. Air brakes hiss as it comes to a stop nearby, the jet black trucks engines idling quietly. The side door to the cab opens, and a small elevator slides out of the bodywork.

Lit up like a Christmas tree in the darkness by the fiber optics in his hair and eyes, Blindside steps on to the elevator and rides it to the ground like Emperor Maximus coming in to the forum. He steps off the Elevator and holds up his hands. "OH YEAAAAAAAAAAAH!" The light catches his Ford-Bling medal, casting rays of light about him to match the hair and eyes.

Kassandra considers Skyler, taking cash from a young Japanese man before answering, "A lot of questions for someone who just jandered up, omae. But yes, I've been known to hit the coffee shop. As for a name," she explains, handing off a small, cigarette-sized package to an ork who approaches, "you can call me Silk."


«Auto-Judge[]» Blindside (#2329) uses 1 of item 6: Novacoke from gear (#9766).
«Auto-Judge[]» Daemon Starks (#2946) uses 1 of item 1: Novacoke from DRUGS! (#7181).
«OOC» Blindside laughs.
«OOC» Daemon Starks chuckles.
«Auto-Judge[]» Kassandra (#9777) rolls 2 for "Weather.":
4 4
«Auto-Judge[]» Kassandra (#9777) rolls 2 for "Roads.":
2 5
«Auto-Judge[]» Kassandra (#9777) rolls 2 for "Random":
3 5
«Auto-Judge[]» Daemon Starks (#2946) rolls Intelligence vs TN 4 for "Addiction test 4M":
2 3 3 3 5 9 9 13 = 4 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Daemon Starks (#2946) uses 1 of item 4: Drug : Cram from DRUGS! (#7181).


Skyler says "Yes, well, I get kinda curious and…are those guys doing novacoke? Don't they know what that stuff can do to you? Man, go natural."

Lilith grabs the stick and shifts, grinding wheels through gravel as her baby growls into the scene. Speaking of old muscle, this one's all sex and power and rumbling grace. A classic '68 Shelby, and she jerks the brake at just the right time to do a neat donut, spinning it into a comfortable parking space. Stepping out with a jangle of keys, long legs, and black leather, Lil shoves her trenchcoat aside to stick her hands on her hips and grin ferally, leaning against the still warm hood.

There are cars, bikes, trucks, and other forms of transportation here. The weather for this fine evening is clear, with a steady northern wind at 20 miles per hour, gusts to 45. The roads, as both drivers will be able to determine, are fine, with no apparent problems. Gangers, Italians, probably some Yak and Ringers, Runners and Squatters, the area is full of gawkers.

Gladius Revealed

The little halfer is -jazzed-. He sniffles, one hand reaching up to wipe his nose. The rear of the truck trailer, folds down like ramp slowly, hydraulics lowering it to the ground. From inside the trailer, there comes a snarl. Not a growl, no, a growl is almost passive compared to the unmitigated fury that is the sound echoing from inside the trailer.

Several gangers trying to peer inside are almost blinded, shying away with hands raised as something inside brings its highbeams on, its engine roaring as it inches forward, like a tiger advancing on prey.

"We've seen the Starks Shark! It's an old fish! It's outta watah! It ain't got no SOUL!" Calls out the little halfer, gesturing to the rear of the car. "Let me show you the Latest! The Greatest! The fastest thing out of DETROIT since the Nanosecond Buyout, Chummers! I give you…"

And down the ramp she rolls, windows tinted black, her skin shining in the light, rippling through colors until she settles on black with silver racing stripes, a Stallion Logo on the side of the car, racing through flames. Her undercarriage is lit by cobalt blue underlighting, with steam rising up from its twin air-intakes.

"GLADIUS ONE! Say Hello, Gladdy!"

The car responds… "Hello Blindside. Are we going to have a run?" It's voice the purest tone of phone-sex operator that could be found…

Daemon Starks lights up a cigarette, sniffing once as he exhales a stream of smoke smoothly. He looks over the dwarf, "You're gonna need that lift when we're done.. to pick up what's left of you." He chuckles, "You ready to paint the line?"

Mafen pulls up toward the meet, arriving on his trusty Suzuki Aurora — a piddly contraption by comparison to the behemoths and beasts rampant in this rumbly racing arena.

Kassandra shrugs to Skyler, "They might be. Dunno." The elf doesn't seem to care if folks are doing drugs; hell, she probably sold many of them what they are taking. She steps way, excusing herself to head towards the ready line, pausing only to make a sale.

Lilith bares her teeth as some of the gawkers try to edge near her car…the same sort of low, rumbling snarl echoes from her lips as from Gladdy's engine. Fangs appear. "BACK. the. FUCK OFF, wankers."

Skyler points at Blindside. "I know him. What a neat car. It talks! I wanna bet on him."
[
Blindside approaches Starks now, on foot. "I'm ready to race, Chummer. Are you ready to eat my carbon particulates?" He asks, offering a hand over (up) to shake. He fidgets, by his very nature, almost seeming to vibrate through the air. "Been a while since I've driven naked. It's gonna be a blast."

Lilith gets out a cell phone and places a call.

Daemon Starks nods to the dwarf, taking the hand in a firm crushing shake, "Yeah, should be a real bang around the old neighborhood.. so to speak eh?" HE grins, "I'm ready.. let's get this started."

Grammercy wanders by Mr. Starks auto and smiles at it and the race about to take place. She doesn't however say anything, just waits to see if Starks sees her and then makes her way to someone who is hawking for bets.
The crowd is a living, moving thing, striving to jockey for better positions to see the race. Drinks and drugs are being passed about, an air of intoxication spreading as the wait lengthens.

Kassandra makes her way towards Starks and Blindside, asking in a casual voice, "You boys ready?"

On the Line

Gladius One sidles up next to the Barracuda, on the start line, while the rear hatch to the truck reseals itself.

The Truck then speaks: "Security System: Engaged, Status: Lethal."

Blindside reaches in to his pocket, pulling out a billfold. He tosses it to Kassandra. "It's all there."

Kassandra snags the billfold, glancing to the illustrious Mr. Starks for his wager. The elf tosses her head, hair billowing in a sudden gust of wind. A distinct howling sound can be heard in the distance.

Lilith chatters on the phone, snarling off some more folks who get too close. She clambers onto the hood, perching her backside neatly down and crossing her legs, leaning against the windshield. Warm engine keeps the backside nice an' toasty in this weather.

Daemon Starks nods to Kassandra, eyeing her over with some appreciation for the femanine form and a sly look. "Sure thing." He looks over to Grammercy as she wanders by briefly, he grins and winks her way in a professional friendly manner, then looks back to Blindside and Kassandra as he takes a long drag off his cigarette; exhaling into the cold night air.

Skyler frowns, because he's poor, and because he's ugly, and because no one is paying attention to him. But only briefly. He wanders off, with a smile, being all stoned and stuff.

Skyler travels south on Colorado Blvd. towards Frontage Rd.

Blindside grins, absolutely excited about the prospects. Under his breath, he murmurs all the way back to the car, talking to himself. He steps for Gladius-one.


All the way to the car, Blindside was saying: OhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygod


Lilith snaps her cellphone shut, leaning over to turn some music on in her car. Some classic rock station, music to suit the mood and the car. The Rolling Stones begin blaring out.

Daemon Starks steps away and walks towards the Barracuda, tightening up dark leather gloves as he slides down into the seat of the massive muscle car; shutting the door behind him.

Minos has arrived.

Lilith closes her eyes and leans back as Sympathy for the Devil begins to play. She gets out a cigar, flicks a lighter, and begins to puff. Ahh, the simple pleasures in life.

Minos comes rumbling up on a big fucking motorcycle. He pulls up next to Lilith's GT. He gets off. He is carrying a riot shield and a giant combat axe.

Lilith doesn't open her eyes. "An axe, Mr.Michaels? I thought the blessed archangel carried a sword."

The door to Gladius-One opens on cue, a hiss of compressed air, the door swinging out on oiled hinges. Everything about the car, from its stance, to its sound, to its color, to the way light seems to bend around it, screams power. This car may be too much for the little halfer to handle. It seems, sitting on the line and motionless, to be in motion. Maybe as good as Demon's car.

Blindside stops at the car door, exhaling deeply, before inhaling. He enters the car, wiggling himself in to position. The tint to the windows fades, allowing the others to see he's -not- jacking in to the vehicle. "Manual control, Gladdy."

"Are you sure thats wise? Sensor scans of the other vehicle reveal it to be formidable."

"I know. That cars one of the best to come out of Detroit… and its not at all stock."

"I ask you again, if you think thats wise. Perhaps I should drive."

"You sound too much like a woman."

"You programmed my persona, Duncan."

Kassandra finishes taking a few bets before looking to either driver. She lets some blond chippie do the whole wave a scarf bit for the drivers; instead, she moves away, counting cash, selling drugs, and going about the business of making money. She doesn't seem to care who wins or loses, or who she sells to.

Lilith cracks an eye open as it seems the race is about to start. From the roar of the crowd, anyways.

Daemon Starks slides down his special sunglasses, turns the key and revs up the engine that rumbles to life with a thundering vibration. A flat touch screen slides open to reveal further operations within the machine; Starks gives A quick sensor sweep of the other vehicle to reveal any tricks or hazards to be aware.

Grammercy walks around the outskirts of the pit like mob that has opened up to show the open road ahead to the two racers. It's a pretty cool thing to see, lines of people down the road, a carnival like atmosphere crackling with anticipation, and Mercy seems to be digging the rush that is building around her.

Minos wanders over to Kassandra and lays down a large amount of actual UCAS dollars. "Five thousand on the guy in the new car. That 1971 Barracuda's a pile of shit. Doesn't have half the style of the Shelby."

Blindside taps a button on the center console, and the holographic HUD snaps in to place, displaying engine read outs, sensor views of external angles, weapons status, temperatures, fuel levels and all the other information he might need. "Okay Gladdy. Just play like that car has a spartan on the side of it."

"Oh. I won't need to play. But, are you sure I can't drive?"

"Shaddup. Okay. Music. Wall of SOund's remake of 'Thunderstruck'. Pipe it to the externals."

With that, an electronic, angry version of AC/DC's thunderstruck starts to ramp up from the black Mustang.

Kassandra nods to Minos, tucking the money away. Those who care or are even looking might notice that she has rented muscle for the evening: a pair of rather wicked looking orcs lounge nearby with the casual grace of professional killers — not bodyguards, mind, but killers. Both are augmented by the looks, with shark-dull eyes and filed teeth.

Lilith smiles to herself, watching the bull walk forward. She sits up, resting her arms on her knees, trenchcoat flared out behind her. Another drag of her cigar and her hand dangles, smoke curling out of her mouth and nose as she grins wickedly at the scene. The radio switches to Ironman, Black Sabbath.

Minos wanders back over towards Lilith. He says, "So you said people were giving you trouble, Miss DeWinter?"

Daemon Starks blares something similar to old school Off Spring, Genocide. He rumbles the vehicle forward to the spray painted line, checking systems and doing something else within the cabin that can't be seen. One ready, he turns his head to look at Blindside through the passenger window that rolls down.

Lilith grunts and points her cigar towards some drunken revelers. "Bleedin' wankers. Fuckers will scratch my baby with a busted ass beer bottle." She grumbles and blows more smoke out. "Other 'an 'at, I reckon someone might start a fight. It's an old, expensive car."

Somewhere, Avril Lavigne is playing in the crowd.. a vibrating tone, coming near Minos.

Music comes from all quarters: ancient rock and roll, modern remakes, tribal music from down the road, and a pulsing African-influenced drumbeat from a nearby building. Smoke of all sorts mars the night air, blown about like grey kites in the night. The moon is a sliver, barely enough light to peek out from the fast moving high clouds. Engines rev throughout the crowd, egging the drivers on.

Aladriel has arrived.

Lilith is sitting on the hood of her '68 Shelby, all in black leather and trenchcoat, fitting fairly well with the crowd, smoking a cigar while pounding classic classic rock echoes around her.

Minos is standing by Lilith. And her car. Carrying a troll-sized riot shield. And wielding a troll-sized combat axe. He looks angry.

On Your Marks

Gladius-One releases its brakes, slow rolling on an idling engine to the very edge of the start line, so recently painted by two race-bunnies (Not real bunnies, for once, a metaphor in denver). The paintjob ripples again, a pearleacent wave rolling from the nose to the tail, shifting it from black with silver racing stripes to a flat, no light reflecting, with blue and purple flames reaching back from the front. Its engine roars again, the car's frame actually torquing up, leaning to the right just a fraction of an inch.

Kassandra moves through the crowd, collecting bets and selling all sorts of small items, most probably drugs. Or single bullets. It's hard to be sure. The small elven woman is followed by a pair of orks that look like they'd really rather be killing their way through the sector; still, they do their job.

Lilith places an arm genially around Minos' shoulders. "'Ell's, Mr.Michaels, ye look bloody fierce.' She grins and slips easily into the old Cockney. "Never felt safer, meself. As to the ot'er lads, bugger 'im."

Minos shrugs off the arm. "Touching me, Miss DeWinter, is not only a privelege not given to you by our contract but also distracting in a potential combat situation such as this. So please, excuse me."

Lets go to the races! At getting invited, seems Aladriel made it just in the nick of time to see the start of the race. Course finding the people she's meeting is a bit easier than it sounds. So she hops on the phone as she winds her way through.

Someone steps up to the Toyota Elite, a small group of gangers eyeing the expensive rims and the chrome plating.. with greedy eyes. One leans against the vehicle with disregard to who owns it..

A whiring noise of hydraulic systems jumping to action as a Panthar Assault Cannon pops up on a remote turret on the GMC Bulldog behind it; pointing at the gangers with a voice on a speaker system: "Step away from the vehicle."

Lilith blinks and removes her arm. "Fine then. Sorry for the disturbance." She settles back on the hood of her car, setting in to watch the race.

Winding through the crowd, Ally's voice is lost to pretty much anyone around her, but to the person on the other line they can hear her shouting, "Where are you!"

Lilith snaps her phone open as it rings. "Hello, DeWinter speaking." Right back to proper Brit, smooth as glass.

Lilith says "Ah, Ms.Cindel. Over here, the great bloody bull with the great bloody axe."

Looking left and right, but with head tilted up a little bit more, Ally gets lucky that there aren't many bulls around. "I only see a regular bull, there isn't blood on him. But I'll head that way."

Lilith rolls her eyes. "Ha. All right, see you in a minute."

Minos nods at Aladriel from behind his riot shield, holding his combat axe in his right hand. The gangers in the region, by the by, seem to be eyeing him very, very warily. Some with anger and some with nervousness.

Couple of minutes after getting off the phone, Ally is infront of Minos, looking up at the big guy. "Howdy big guy," she greets him before carefully manuvering around him to see the lady sitting ontop of the car.

Lilith hisses at the gangers and waves the little mage over. "Oi, Ally." Her accent slips back again as she snaps her phone shut. She grins at the girl. "Mr.Michaels 'ere is just keepin' me car and me body safe, ye ain't got nuthin' to worry 'bout." She frowns a bit. "Altho', it moight be a bit much askin' 'im to risk loife an' limb in this situation. 'op up." She pats the hood next to her. Under the neglible weight of the two women, it's doubtful the sturdy metal would fail.

Certainly never having heard Lilith talk in this particular way before, Aladriel looks at the woman like she's crazy. But after eyeballing her like she's nuts, Ally climbs onto the hood next to her and smiles. "I think I caught some of that. Do you think he'll be risking, ah, 'loife' tonight? People seem fairly well behaved."
Minos glances to Lilith and Aladriel and says, "I rarely risk life and limb. It's mostly the gangers that can be an issue."

The people are seemingly well-behaved. Oh, a few had to be warned away from the nice Italian fellows vehicles, but other than that they seem perfectly satisfied to get boozed up, high, or whatever other experiences they can fit in.

The wind picks up a bit, scattering garbage and loose dirt. The battle of the bands continues as the crowd waits for the vehicles to get ready. Apparently there is some sort of mechanical problem.

Lilith snickers and takes a healthy drag of her cigar. Smoke billows again around her head as she blows it out via nostril and mouth. She nods to Minos. "Aye, 'e 'as the right of it." She tones down the voice for Ally's sake. "Just keep an eye out."

Shrugging lightly, "Sure, will keep my eyes open," Ally smiles, then crinkles up her nose as she observes and smells Lil's newest habit. Tsking slightly, "Ms. DeWinter I'm so disappointed you've decided to not live a long and healthy life," she grumples.

Lilith blinks as smoke curls out her nose. "Eh, wot?" She looks at her cigar. "'Is? 'ell, it's just a treat. Image or some rubbish. Oi only 'ave 'em after sex and if 'm somewhere like 'is." She points to the big racing scene.

"Well the races probably aren't that often," Ally points out, but looks hard at Lilith, leaving the rest unsaid, looking about as condescending as she can.

Lilith turns her head slowly to gaze back at the girl. Expression unflappable in the view of the girl's attitude. "*Yes*, Ms.Cindel?"

Get Set

Gladius's engine growls again, twice in quick beat as Blindside finds the core of his calm. It's pretty goddamn small. The sensors are going off the scale. The Car next to him -should not exist-. It's torque profile is impossible, it's thrust vector is physically improbable on the level of someones asshole swallowing up their heads and the race is over before it even started. But still, A racer never backs down. A runner never backs down, and by god, thats what Blindside is. A racer with no road home but to run in to the future.

The female, purring voice of Gladius-1 comes over the external speakers… "We are… ready."

Meanwhile, the gangers, having decided that the Mafia vehicles guarded by a Panther Assault Cannon are a bit too dangerous, are milling about staring at Minos. It seems they might be attempting to screw their courage up. But it's quickly distracted by the car race beginning.

"Just saying if those are the two conditions, you've got a pretty bad habit," Ally says with a shrug. "And would you stop saying my name! I could be a wanted woman under that name!" she huffs indignantly, quieting down those as engines start to growl and the race…really is about ready to go!

For Tanasen: There is a cubic crapload of people here, waiting to watch Daemon and Blindside race. The racers are getting their cars ready to go; meanwhile, Aladriel and Lilith are sitting on her Shelby while Minos lurks next to them with an axe and shield. Kassandra and escorts wander the crowd selling drugs and stuff.

Lilith snorts and turns her attention back to the race. "Sorry. What would you like to be called, girl?"

"Ally would be just fine," Ally tells Lilith, a big smile spreading across her painted face.

Lilith nods and quietly watches the race. She does stub out the cigar in deference to the new mother, flicking it away. Grudgingly.

Tanasen drives up to the edge of the crowd, a late arrival as the Ferrari rolls to a stop.

A heavy throttling that shivers the ground and vibrates off the air; any body with long hair near the Hemi Barracuda can feel the shake and wind off the exhaust flinging their hair backwards lightly… *RUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMBbbbblleeeee* The muscle car growls it's challenge with an exhaling of ignited gas that escapes the super charger valves above the hood scoop. Starks winks at Blindside, then the window slides up automatically as Starks is ready; eyes on the girl with the rag, and the road ahead.

A pleased Ally enjoys the slightly cleaner-smelling air and nods appreciatively to Lilith. "Thanks," she tells the woman, then hmms as she glances around. "So..who's going to win?" she asks. "Do we have a favorite?"

Kassandra stalks through the crowd, buying, selling, trading.

Lilith shrugs. "The flashy dwarf, I think." She wrinkles her nose. "Both of them were hitting 'coke before hand, the idjits. Lucky if they don't hit a wall I shouldn't wonder."

A nearby group of gangers, "The Demon! The Demon!" They cheer on the hemi Barracuda.

"Oh, thats not good," Ally says with a shake of her head. "Do they have medics around to patch them up if they go splat? Or boom, as it might be?" she asks Lilith, eyeing the gangers who are cheering on a…Demon? Hmm.
Lilith snickers a bit. "Oh, from the look of things, if they hit a wall there's either going to be nothing of them left, or the car will be fine and they'll be splatted over the interior."

GO!

The race is on, with the two cars squeeling off the line. The smell of tires on the asphalt fills the air as both cars lurch, nay, not lurch, -jump- off the line when some bimbo lowers her scarf in the middle of the road. The Mustang surges forward but the Barracuda doesn't seem to notice, out there in front.

Lilith gives out the required shout as the cars leap forward. "Mr.Michaels, how much did you bet, by the way?"

Tanasen pops the door on his car, stepping out and leaning against the roof, watching from afar as the cars rev and the drivers posture. Well, aught to be interesting to see that car finaly put to its paces if nothing else.

Minos says "Five grand, on the dwarf. He'll lose, but I hate the Barracuda."

Lilith snorts. "I see."

Ally jumps as the cars race off and she whistles a little bit at the initial speed the racers display. "Hope no one gets hurt too badly," she murmurs, likely drowned out by the crowd.

Lilith shrugs as she watches, shouting to be heard. "Right now, they'll either kill or be killed."

The crowd roars as the cars launch off the starting line, leaving a trail of carbon particulates and shattered dreams. The wind picks up and an ominous crack of thunder is heard in the distance. The thin slice of moon can be seen as the thin clouds separate, almost on cue.

The elf known as Silk wanders the crowd making deals. She looks over as the cars take off, her expression one of cool distance. She turns away again, moving to the next deal, the next greedy soul.

The hemi jumps off the painted line with a thunderous roar, taking the lead for the first several meters of asphault with a squeel of tires. But from behind, gas expodes through the engines of the Mustang as a high pitched whirring sound of NOS systems kicking the vehicle into overdrive and eating up the ground between the two vehicle like a fat kid at a bakery. The Mustang shoots out ahead quickly.

Lilith doesn't even bother with the thunder, the scant moonlight gleaming off her black leather as she slips out of her trenchcoat. The cold doesn't bother her much. "There we go."

The black Mustang shoots out ahead, quickly veering, as racers do, in front of the other car. But then, something unexpected happens as twin nozzels pop down from the rear bumper! Fuck me, the Halfer's usen oil! A thick spray jets from the back of the car, covering the road behind him!

Minos watches the mustang take off and then spray oil. "Wow, that's naughty."

Watching the race with some wide eyes, Ally tilts her head a little bit and looks over to Lilith. "Are there rules to this race, or does anything go? Cause otherwise…that guy in the back's going to be upset"

Lilith laughs wickedly. "He's going to be fucking upset anyways."

Oil not withstanding, on the next instant, both vehicles acellerate to blistering speeds, with the Barracuda VASTLY out surpassing the mustang's engine. Somewhere, a physicist is giving birth to kittens and an angel gets its wings.

Daemon Starks combs his hair in the rear view mirror as he passes Blindside.

The crowd roars, many in Daemon's favor, as the Hemi skids ahead, the extra oil on the road not slowing him. Horns blare and engines roar as the men do battle on the road. Music blares, a differnt type and bear depending on where you are on the route.

Minos loiters with his axe and riot shield near Lilith's Shelby GT Mustang, which is a fine car. He looks angry, behind him, his charge: Miss Lilith DeWinter, and her friend Aladriel, sit on the Shelby.

Lilith blinks.

Kassandra argues with members of one gang who believes they should have a better price for their goods. The elf tries several times to explain reality to them before simply walking away, waving a hand at the heavily modded man who was primarily arguing.

Lilith looks over the crowd, at the race. Then back to Minos.

Blindside makes the corner, his wheels leaving smoke a half moment behind Starks, and doesn't make a StufferShack a drive through.

Tanasen watches intently. Not a bad start, but things will really pick up now that the first few seconds are out of the way.

Lilith sighs and nods as she whispers to Minos.

Lilith leans back on the hood and sighs a bit, watching the race again.

Ally's attention span seems to be fading because she starts shifting around on the hood of the car, and as soon as Lilith gets done leaning back, Ally leans in to her to speak softly.

The Race is On

Daemon Starks squeels across the turn, drifting like a Nipper in a rice burner; but with a forced power slide more than a sheer drift of finess. It gets the corner job done however, clearing it with flare and in good position near the end; the oil smeering lines across the street top.

Lilith coughs. If she was drinking, she'd do a spittake.

Kassandra gets an update on the race from those nearby, who excitedly point and gab about the oil, the slide, the wonder of it all. The elf nods, heading through the crowd until she stops at the tree — excuse me, troll — that has taken root in front of her. She looks way up, standing on tiptoe as the huge being leans down to 'whisper' to her, his voice audible even over music and road noise, "I WANNA BUY SOME SLAM!"

Minos watches a ganger start to draw a bead on him with a pistol. Before the idiot has a chance to shoot, he reaches into his pocket and chucks a pool ball at the hapless human. The guy's head cracks backwards as he slumps to the ground, and Minos raises his index finger to the guy's buddys, shaking it back and forth in a "no-no-bo" manner.

Minos says "Nope."

Lilith nods. "As you were, then."

About a half mile away, the sound of cars screaming through tight turns can be heard, though the squeel of tires grows fractionally farther apart from each other with each turn.

Lilith sneers at a couple of hesitantly approaching gangers. Eyeing her, and the car. She snarls, flipping them off with a long, steel tipped finger.

Lilith says "Fuckin' coleslaw, bitches. SOD OFF."

And then the cars turn the corner down the street, the Mustang a full second behind the Barracuda, the distinctive headlight profiles of both vehicles making them clearly separate. They rush for the finish line, but it looks like an easy win for the monster Barracuda.

Selene rides up on a borrowed bike, and looks none to professional at it at all and even less happy to be called up to keep overwatch by Joey. But appear she does, keeping the hood low over her face, and tied well up around her neck. She leans heavily on the bike, and moves stiffly as though banged up.

Minos is watching the race, armed with a combat axe and a riot shield, guarding a Shelby GT Mustang on whose hood are poised Aladriel and Lilith.

WTF? Circus Truck?

The race seems to be well in hand for the Barracuda, a done and finished deal. The Mustang is distant in the way of street races, which means only a second behind. However, from out of an alley nearing the finish line, a massive eighteen-wheeler decked in the colors of the Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Baily Circus starts pulling out into the street, its headlights splaying across into the night. It's massive cab swerves right in front of Starks, forcing him to alter course suddenly or slam right in to to it!

Minos is watching the race, armed with a combat axe and a riot shield, guarding a Shelby GT Mustang on whose hood are poised Aladriel and Lilith. Gangers and others form a large crowd as a Hemi Barracuda (piloted by Daemon Starks) and a new Ford Mustang round the final corner of a race.

A two vehicle caravan off in the crowd is stationed with a comfortable ring around it; by standers keeping away after a panthar assault cannon popped out before on some gangers.

Kade is hanging in the fringes, bundled up in a double layer of coats. Her face is obscured by the brim of her ballcap and the jacket hood over her head. She watches the race, head tilted a bit.

The crowd's noise builds to roar, with cheers and screams for the dwarf or Starks all the more clear now that the race is coming to its conclusion. At least one band of gangers is raining empty bottles, cans, and debris on the road for the racers to barrel through after the finish line, which will result in all manner of wounds for people nearby.

The Race Is Off

The truck tosses the Italian Stallion in to a power drift that squeels his tires and slides his ass end out. The Barracuda's tires squeel in protest, sending up a thick cloud of smoke. Behind him, a good 150 meters behind him, Blindside blinks. He's running in HUD mode, with the sensors giving him a radar based image of the road in front of him. "What the…" Says the young rigger with more balls than brains (A rigger trait.).

"Duncan, there is a .02% chance of victory if we redline the engine and empty the tanks."

"I know! PUNCH IT!" He triggers the nos, the flamable gas punching in to the engine again, sending the car rocketing forward to Ludacris speed.

Starks decellerates to make his turn, only a slight bit, but its enough for the Mustang to close the distance.

The cars come down the line, and if ONLY… if ONLY there were 10 more meters in the race… the Mustang would have taken it. But there's not. The cold math of it is Demon still had too much speed, despite the truck. It's an inch, its a peice of crome…

But it's a victory for Starks!

Lilith winces as she watches. "Ooooh dear."

Screams and cheers, boos and hisses, it all depends on who you are betting on. Kassandra moves through the crowd, paying off bets to those she owes.

Cheers errupt for older gangers who've seen past racing in the last years.. the gangers that survive that long make it to what, 28? They all cheer!!

Ally's eyes widen as Lilith winces and she shakes her head right alongside her. "Holy crap," she says right along with the other woman. Yikes.

Minos says "Ah well, there's five grand down the drain. Kid put up a good fight, though. I like circus trucks."

Lilith sighs. "Oh well."

Lilith yawns mightily, rubbing her eyes. "Hells bells…perhap my body is reacting subconciously to the atmosphere around here. I'm tired as bloody hell and want to go home." She looks at Minos and smiles wearily. "Do you want to stay, Mr.Michaels? Ally can escort me home."

While Starks's crew pulls out almost immediately, one of Starks's runners getting the cash from Kassandra, the Mustang, its engine pissed as hell for all the abuse it just took, comes rumbling to a stop near the truck. The car and truck's colors both shift, coming to be a pulsing, almost psychadelic pattern that seems to resemble the hair of the Rigger who drives them. A port on the side of the trucks trailer slides open, revealing speakers, which start thumping music, a kind of modern techno-trance-rave mix.

Ally shakes her head gently at what she's just seen transpire, staring after the track for a moment before yawning and getting up alongside Lil. "Whatever's easier for you both."

Lilith yawns again. "Mmm. I'm fine."

Minos says "I'll stay, Miss DeWinter. I'm bored."

The crowds start to scatter, the gangers and mobsters and other creatures of the night heading off to cause trouble elsewhere.

Lilith chuckles. "Have fun, dear Mr.Michaels." She slides off the hood into the car.

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