Rusty walls and bleached flooring. Walking wings of white vanished into the bleeding black, broken stools began to fly through the pillowing evening; cawing crows creeped in silence sequentially, sulking in the baths bubbling with bile. Murky eyes flickered passed the brazen window coughing with disregard for others. I can't, I can't…can't, fire on the lunar star, dark patches of radiant rage, pure ecstasy. In monthly growth, a born human was delivered to the arms of a lanky mass covered in soot.
"He is yours," said the weak woman.
"Indeed…" said the man with a deep rumble.
"Name him…before you go."
"G—
Grease Boy stood over the stones laid across the edge of a deep chasm, his eyes squinted with calm. His long limbs draped like an evil cloak, a constant bend in his knees, without much of a slouch in his spine his fingers reached past the middle of his shins. Unruly hair with scars laced across his hands.
"Boss! Vice-Captain Longwang, he was found strewn along the ends of District 2."
"Hmm," a small grin grew on Grease's face, "who did it?"
"Salt-Water…"
Grease's snicker faded, his eyes fell with displeasure. "Do we know what he did wrong?"
"He was on their land."
"What a psycho…"
Ironic for him to think that. The grunt thought.
"What should we do? I have gathered every Head available. If you wish, we can raze District 2 to the ground."
"Hold off… Is Longwang alive?"
"Yes."
"Salt-Water… He's too dangerous, his influence spreads across the whole city. We need to be cautious. If ya or any Head meets one of them Shen Dime folk, take 'em out quietly, but don't start nothin' less they come at ya. Understood!"
"Yes sir!" the grunt saluted, vanishing into the shadows like a blade of wind.
A hand slammed the desk, in a room lit only by the projection in front sat seven young men. On the screen was a black Mazda MX-5 losing to an unknown car. One of the men got up white knuckled, his head shaking with bulging veins.
"What the fuck am I looking at? This can't be! I've never seen someone drive like that. This wasn't even close, the pullout… The Black Stallion was absolutely devoured. I'm outta here, I can't watch any more."
"Hold on Zig, cap didn't say this meeting was over," Razal said.
"Fuck off Raz, you can order me around once you actually win something."
"Stay Zigarat," said Le Suo, vice-captain of the Zeroes (000000's). 02 tattooed on the left side of his neck, his deep set eyes and wide nose accentuating high cheekbones as he stared at Zigarat's back.
"Tch."
"We need to know what to do with the fact that a new force has come to play. Holding our own against the other top ones is already difficult. We all know how it is when a new gang is formed for the first time. They'll be hungry, much hungrier than any other who is already full," Le Suo said casually.
"This is pointless. So what if they got one good driver, who else they got. If they had to fight people like Orion or Grease could they manage. They don't even have the numbers to counter larger groups. Let them bottom out realizing it will be too difficult just in the East alone."
"Maybe that's all they care about. They purposely antagonized Sedric, no point in questioning it; they may not want all the power in the world, but they do want to be number one. I can think of a similar group who thought the same when they were first formed," said a quiet gent in the back.
"So what do you want us to do? Come on Cap, say something," Zig demanded.
"You should at least say something," Le Suo whispered into Tak's ear.
Tak-Tak, twenty-one years of age, bleached white hair with shaved brows, three zeroes under each of his eyes. Pale skin that accented the night sky navy cargo he wore. Known as Zero Talk Tak, he has been dominating the streets since he was a teenage boy; destroying futures with his speed. At this moment he had only one thing to say.
"Win."
In a studio apartment sat Dante and Rad drinking pop as they watched film of the other three racing teams in the east. The one they had to watch out for the most were the Zeroes of Districts Twenty-one through Twenty-four; not to say the rest weren't needing their own level of caution either. In second place were Chrono CHROME of District Eighteen led by Hank the Steel Hero. In third were the Blue Needles, but they have currently taken a hiatus. In fourth place is Heart-Beat with their captain "Heart Attack" Janan of District Sixteen. And finally with only two official members, the Azure Dragons of Districts Nineteen and Twenty.
"If only the retired members of District 20 would come and join…" Dante sighed.
"Why won't they?" Rad asked.
"They just don't wanna, even though I was their vice-captain, I suppose with the original leader gone they just don't care any more."
"Who was the old boss of District 20? Doesn't seem like anyone cared to claim it until you did."
"Not much here. People are poor and the only cool thing is the trail up the mountain side that connects to the rest of the city. It's only neat if you're into driving on wonky roads that curve at a steep incline. Either way, there are better territories to conquer, you get nothing for owning this place. That's why I went to challenge Sedric, District 19 has lots of car enthusiasts and plenty of tracks to practice on. They are also blood tied to District 9 in the sense they both have the most iron in the whole country."
"I see…" He didn't answer my first question though. "Somebody had to be good enough in this place to at least be recognized by others, so who started up a gang in District 20?"
"He was a dumb-ass, but District 20 had something, quality, he lucked out and got enough guys who knew what they were doing to somehow be more than just a local group of thugs. Turned them into something people wanted to join and represent. Maybe one day you'll obtain that power too."
"So what was this gang called anyway?"
"R. O. D. Ride Or Die…he would always like to say Race Over Death, though I'm not sure how popular that was with the group."
Rad's eyes flickered and a pinching pain pulsed at the thalamus—
Opening his eyes he sat in a rustic seat, his hands on the wheel, below was nothing, his eyes could only glance for a moment. If only I could've survived, he could have, a warrior. I have the power! A cry was heard in the silence of space, the pumping of his heart made the scene zoom into a hurricane of blistering emotion, a coaster of speed, blitzing through the trees, his peeling of flesh and reforming of bone within scattered seconds scraped away. That throttle, the blood that courses cold, the clammy sensation of dead sweat. We could have survived… Is that all he wished for? For the love of what? The sensation, the passion of another, the act of winning; that success, is that what you want? If you answer I can bless you, warrior. Whoever you are, I can provide you with what you want, what you need. Just answer my call, call on me, grasp for my power.
The face that he believed was his morphed into that of a more youthful man, a three headed demonic dragonoid sat in the passenger seat. His blazing eyes began to melt the car within. The man's hands were fusing with the wheel, he couldn't shift or break. It was looking bleak before being asked, "Will you take it? Will you?" The man smiled as he gazed at the road, pressing his foot harder into the gas. His body was shaking, evaporating blood was seeping off him. A crimson mist cloaked in flaming plumes flung open like wings soaring atop the final moments of the mobile. The man was a fallen angel dancing with death, his crumbling wings severing him from flight. His beloved height was denouncing him, this was the last, yet regret plagued not his face. For that smile was brighter than the sun, his eyes clearer than any body of water, his hands firmer than any mountain, his heart steadier than the calmest breeze. Sayonara.