Mentioned: None
Appearances By: Demonica


Fuckin’ Hostile Part Two
Gratuitous Violence


“Fucking Hostile” by Pantera


I’d pretty much come into my hotel after the race and dropped onto the bed without changing. I’d barely managed to kick off my boots before collapsing in the squishy mattress and duvet. Thankfully, I had just missed the pillows so I wouldn’t wake up with that little mint thing melted to my cheek. The race had been profitable enough. And the best part: I hadn’t gotten caught. That was a massive plus. For some odd reason, Vancouver reminded me of Amsterdam. Pretty much everything goes, and went. Well, on a lawful level, nothing goes anywhere. You just have to get caught first…

I’d showered and left my hotel. The sun was still up. It was a few minutes shy of six o’clock. It wasn’t until I got to my car that I realized what poor losers some people were. Scratched across my passenger side door were the words “bitch” and “cheater”. My front windshield was splattered with eggs and the hood was covered in silly string. I gaped openly, hands clutching my keys tightly, accidentally reopening the wound from Demonica’s knife on my palm. So much for a secure parking lot. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

I picked off a few of the eggshells, tossing them onto the ground beneath my tires. Thankfully, they hadn’t been slashed. My hands shook from agitation as I ran my fingers over the scratches in the black paint. Fuck, that was going to cost a fortune to fix. I opened the driver’s side door and slid into the car. I didn’t bother with a seatbelt, or checking my mirrors. I backed out of the parking space and set off in the direction of the nearest car wash.

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The circuit had changed venues. Again, word traveled fast and I found myself on an abandoned airstrip that was just dirt and gravel. Needless to say, I made a loud, obnoxious and very pissed off entrance. Hell, I even managed to cut off a race, parking my Viper right in the middle of the strip, forcing two racers to swerve out the side. I moved out of my car and walked steadily down the strip towards the betters and racers. Jeremy tried to stop me to get me to move my car but I just whisked right by him, ignoring him completely. He probably looked upset behind me, but I could care less to be perfectly frank.

Malcolm wasn’t a hard bastard to spot. He was leaning against his Mazda, talking to a flock of ladies as if he were not virginal. Poor bastard. Emasculated in public. Such fun.

I forced my way through the gaggle of giggling girls and right up into Malcolm’s face. The girls backed off, thankfully. I really did not need a bunch of retarded Valley Girls pulling my hair and scratching my face. I got enough of that from my job. I reached up and grabbed a handful of his hair. I jerked my hand forward, nearly bringing him to his knees.

“Come along, then!” I said, the irritation perceptible in my voice. He cussed loudly, hands grasping at the hair on either side of my hands, trying to pry my grip from him. It was unsuccessful, needless to say. I marched him along towards my car, feeling the rest of the flock follow behind. I kept verbally urging Malcolm forward, giving his hair a few yanks, feeling a few strands pulling loose between my fingers.

Reaching my car, I calmly, rationally, promptly slammed his head into the passenger side door. He fell to a heap to the ground, holding the top of his head and his forehead. I put my hand upon his stomach, pushing down slightly, and the heel of my boot pressed into his groin. He winced and gasped, pushing his back up against the car. I leaned forward, grasping his chin and moving his head to his cheek pressed against the body of my car, nearly scraping his skin against the key marks.

“Tell me, Malcolm… did you do this to my car?” I asked, tilting my head to the side, moving his head up and down so he could feel the flecks of metal coming from beneath the paint against his cheek, nearly busting open his skin. He said nothing. I pulled back his head and slammed it back against the door, sneering. “Well?!”

“Yes…” he squeaked quietly, his hand lifting to rest on his cheek. It stopped midway as I applied more pressure to his groin. It felt lifeless to his side. I leaned down and grabbed the lapels of his Joe Rocket jacket, using all of my strength to lift him to his feet. I crashed his back against the car, still clutching the lapels. His cheek was bleeding. Good, I was beginning to feel better.

“Damn it, you’re a poor loser.” I reached behind him, opening the passenger door and pushing him inside. Jeremy, once again, tried to stop me. I flipped him off and he backed away. I dropped into the driver’s seat, starting the engine and just barely slamming the door before driving off down the strip. “So, Malcolm, scared yet?” I asked, focusing completely on the ending strip in front of me. The dirt faded off into grass, before heading straight for forestry. I kept accelerating quickly, glancing at him every so often in the passenger seat. He was huddled into the seat, hugging himself. He was staring wide-eyed out the windshield, eyes obviously locked on the trees ahead.

“Course not. You’ll chicken out before you even get off the strip.” He was skeptical. I could hear the concern in his voice. I pushed down the gas pedal further, feeling it touch the metal of the firewall. I smirked a bit, curling my hands tighter around the steering wheel.

“Oh, will I? I dunno, Malcolm, the end’s coming up pretty damn quick. Care to make a wager?” I asked, before continuing, not even giving him a moment to answer. “If you cry out for me to stop before I do… you pay for the damages and hand over your bass system to me. If I stop before you cry out, I’ll give you my Viper.” I said, monotonously. I kept driving forward. The tires shifted as I moved off the dirt and onto the grass. It was about half a mile between where the car was and the large trees now. “C’mon, Malcolm, what’s it gonna be?” I asked, kicking the car into sixth gear. The car jerked and accelerated forward.

The trees were closing, now looming far over head like an ominous wall of green and dark brown. Finally, after we were a mere fifteen feet away, he cried out, clenching the leather interior of my car. I smirked victoriously, slamming on the breaks. The car spun out, stopping to a halt, facing back in the direction we had come. He was crying, tears streaming down his face, most likely stinging the cuts on his cheek. I smirked a bit, softly stroking the dashboard.

“I win…” I said. I looked over at him, wrinkling my nose in disgust. My fist went out, popping him in the nose once before it came back. My muscles coiled as my arm went out again, crossing his chin. Blood spewed out across my window, causing me to cuss. “Now look what ya done…” I grumbled. I slammed my foot on the gas again. The back tires spun into the dirt, the car fishtailing slightly before screeching across the grass and onto the dirt airstrip. I slammed on the brakes a few feet from the group, dust kicking up behind my rear tears. I leaned over, opening the door and pushing him out of the passenger seat. I got out as well, pocketing my keys. I circled around the car, gazing down at Malcolm on all fours. “Cough it up.” I ordered, holding out my hand.

I didn’t have to say anything more. He, shakily, reached to his back pocket to pull out his wallet. He opened it and pulled out two grand. It was amazing how much money these kids got for souping-up their cars and racing them illegally. I suppose everything illegal had it’s fiscal upsides. He slapped it into my hands. I grasped his collar and made him crawl over to his car. I pulled out my business card, putting it between his lips.

“Send your car and the papers to this address. If I don’t get it in two weeks, I’ll come looking for you.” I leaned down a bit; my lips close to his ear. “And you wouldn’t like that. You think today was bad? Oh no, cheri, not even close…” I let him drop back against his car, turning back to my own. I had to push passed the gaggle of girls that had circled him before, but the rest of them parted for me.


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