Enjoy. Chapter 1.
If people like it, I'll continue to write, if I have time.
NFS: Altezza Mix
NFS: Altezza Mix
Enjoy. Chapter 1.
If people like it, I'll continue to write, if I have time.
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REBEL35SUSPECT
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GINIX_2007
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Tunerfreak
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Tunerfreak
- Professional
- Posts: 1771
- Joined: 02 Dec 2004, 20:55
- Location: New Zealand, in my car
When I have time. My grades are falling at the moment.
But here's a short story I wrote for an RP board, just to entertain you for a while. I'll see if I can tie this into the story somehow.
As a part time student and Transporter, I can't honestly tell you I have a lot of free time on my hands. However, being a student does provide me necessary camouflage in the Underworld, and my other occupation helps as well. See, I attend one of the most violent schools in New York City, if not America. Which school, you ask? Let's keep that confidential as of now. I find humans tend to wander toward danger. It'd be a shame if someone were to be killed by my words and their own idiocy, now wouldn't it?
10:23 AM
The bell hit me like a jackhammer. It honestly did. I'm usually always aware, but Social Studies, in my opinion, is a shiznit subject. A downright waste of forty minutes. Why? Because basically everything you learn in that class can be acquired from a Newspaper, or textbook. In fact, I've probably slept through all my Social Studies classes, and I'm still averaging an A average because I read the news and seldom flip through the pages of a textbook. Who knows? Maybe I just have a knack for test-taking. I stretched out sleepily as I walked toward the door, my baggy Quiksilver shirt hanging off me and folding with my movements. The South Pole jeans I wore made a peculiar crunch with every step I took. "Have a nice day...." I said softly, at my teacher, who was already sitting down.
"Get to class."
10:23 PM
Now, there's a fine line between my day at 10:23 in the morning and 10:23 at night. In the morning, I'm a kid being injected with useless knowledge, really. Who gives two shiznit what a Silicon-Oxygen Tetrahedron is? As long as you're here, and living well, who cares? In the vacant parking lot, my watch sounded all of a sudden, and right on cue, someone tapped on the window. "Sup," I said. Be casual, right? 'Blend in with the hood,' as a friend of mine might say.
A woman smiled and slipped something through the open window. "La Guardia, east exit." I nodded and without further ado, rolled the window up and shifted up via the ACT Stick Shift. The four inch exhaust spouting from the rear of my Supra spat out blue flames as I did so. Time to go. I rolled out of the parking in the rear wheel drived vehicle, as inconspicuous as one could in a JDM vehicle. Hard to notice a Supra in the dead of night, right? Nevertheless, I stopped at the traffic light and waited for it to change.
All of a sudden, I was aware that someone was next to me. Someone challenging me? I turned my neck to see a pure white Dodge Viper GT-S. God, just looking at that lump of American lard made me nauseas, and it clearly showed in my facial expression. He narrowed his eyes. "Wanna go, booboo?" the man inside said. From the sound of his voice, he was white and husky, not to mention arrogant.
"Anytime," I murmured, and rolled back about three yards or so, giving him a huge head start. I really shouldn't be firetruck around with the show ponies, but this guy makes my eyes burn and my ears hurt. The light turned green, and I floored the gas, slamming the clutch and slamming the shift up. The gloss-black vehicle lurched forward, as did the Viper. The wind flowed around the car in a more aerodynamic manner, thanks to the Veilside kit. Not the tacky wide body one. Just the body kit. The Toyo tire treads gripped the ground, providing more traction. My powerhouse of a car caught up to the Viper quickly, and soon surpassed him just as easily. His eyes widened as he saw he was close to hitting a car. I watched his body twitch as he slammed the brakes, but with those shiznit stock brakes, he would still be moving. The grinned with satisfaction as the sound of metal crunching and tires squealing came to my ears. I'm quite surprised we had enough room to do a quick Drag Race in New York City. Some of you are asking, What's so special about New York, that you can't race on the roads? Well, the streets of New York are frigging' narrow. That's why I quit street racing and decided on a more secure job as a Transporter.
10:45 PM
No one ever considers them-self a veteran at their job until they've firetruck something up at least once. Little did I know that this was about to happen, and so early in my little 'career.' Unfortunate.
I sat on the bench, holding a small box wrapped with paper. Most people didn't look at me or didn;t give me a second glance. Perfect. However, this one man, quite nicely dressed, I might add, approached me and said, "Good Evening." The password. I nodded and handed him the package, who in turn, gave me a small white envelope. "Happy Birthday," he said, almost like a father. I nodded and began heading toward the exit. "Careful on your way home," he said, with a tone that sent a chill down my spine. What does he mean by that?
11:01 PM
There was a loud BOOM as the envelope I threw out of my car blew up. What in the world?! The parked sedan it landed under went up in a ball of flames, the bomb inside my payment detonating. So that's his game...... I laughed a bit and pulled my Supra over into a vacant parking lot, pondering my next move.
He'll pay, alright, I thought as I drove home.
Ten minutes into my ride, I kept noticing the same pair of headlights were in my rear-view. Someone following me?
But here's a short story I wrote for an RP board, just to entertain you for a while. I'll see if I can tie this into the story somehow.
As a part time student and Transporter, I can't honestly tell you I have a lot of free time on my hands. However, being a student does provide me necessary camouflage in the Underworld, and my other occupation helps as well. See, I attend one of the most violent schools in New York City, if not America. Which school, you ask? Let's keep that confidential as of now. I find humans tend to wander toward danger. It'd be a shame if someone were to be killed by my words and their own idiocy, now wouldn't it?
10:23 AM
The bell hit me like a jackhammer. It honestly did. I'm usually always aware, but Social Studies, in my opinion, is a shiznit subject. A downright waste of forty minutes. Why? Because basically everything you learn in that class can be acquired from a Newspaper, or textbook. In fact, I've probably slept through all my Social Studies classes, and I'm still averaging an A average because I read the news and seldom flip through the pages of a textbook. Who knows? Maybe I just have a knack for test-taking. I stretched out sleepily as I walked toward the door, my baggy Quiksilver shirt hanging off me and folding with my movements. The South Pole jeans I wore made a peculiar crunch with every step I took. "Have a nice day...." I said softly, at my teacher, who was already sitting down.
"Get to class."
10:23 PM
Now, there's a fine line between my day at 10:23 in the morning and 10:23 at night. In the morning, I'm a kid being injected with useless knowledge, really. Who gives two shiznit what a Silicon-Oxygen Tetrahedron is? As long as you're here, and living well, who cares? In the vacant parking lot, my watch sounded all of a sudden, and right on cue, someone tapped on the window. "Sup," I said. Be casual, right? 'Blend in with the hood,' as a friend of mine might say.
A woman smiled and slipped something through the open window. "La Guardia, east exit." I nodded and without further ado, rolled the window up and shifted up via the ACT Stick Shift. The four inch exhaust spouting from the rear of my Supra spat out blue flames as I did so. Time to go. I rolled out of the parking in the rear wheel drived vehicle, as inconspicuous as one could in a JDM vehicle. Hard to notice a Supra in the dead of night, right? Nevertheless, I stopped at the traffic light and waited for it to change.
All of a sudden, I was aware that someone was next to me. Someone challenging me? I turned my neck to see a pure white Dodge Viper GT-S. God, just looking at that lump of American lard made me nauseas, and it clearly showed in my facial expression. He narrowed his eyes. "Wanna go, booboo?" the man inside said. From the sound of his voice, he was white and husky, not to mention arrogant.
"Anytime," I murmured, and rolled back about three yards or so, giving him a huge head start. I really shouldn't be firetruck around with the show ponies, but this guy makes my eyes burn and my ears hurt. The light turned green, and I floored the gas, slamming the clutch and slamming the shift up. The gloss-black vehicle lurched forward, as did the Viper. The wind flowed around the car in a more aerodynamic manner, thanks to the Veilside kit. Not the tacky wide body one. Just the body kit. The Toyo tire treads gripped the ground, providing more traction. My powerhouse of a car caught up to the Viper quickly, and soon surpassed him just as easily. His eyes widened as he saw he was close to hitting a car. I watched his body twitch as he slammed the brakes, but with those shiznit stock brakes, he would still be moving. The grinned with satisfaction as the sound of metal crunching and tires squealing came to my ears. I'm quite surprised we had enough room to do a quick Drag Race in New York City. Some of you are asking, What's so special about New York, that you can't race on the roads? Well, the streets of New York are frigging' narrow. That's why I quit street racing and decided on a more secure job as a Transporter.
10:45 PM
No one ever considers them-self a veteran at their job until they've firetruck something up at least once. Little did I know that this was about to happen, and so early in my little 'career.' Unfortunate.
I sat on the bench, holding a small box wrapped with paper. Most people didn't look at me or didn;t give me a second glance. Perfect. However, this one man, quite nicely dressed, I might add, approached me and said, "Good Evening." The password. I nodded and handed him the package, who in turn, gave me a small white envelope. "Happy Birthday," he said, almost like a father. I nodded and began heading toward the exit. "Careful on your way home," he said, with a tone that sent a chill down my spine. What does he mean by that?
11:01 PM
There was a loud BOOM as the envelope I threw out of my car blew up. What in the world?! The parked sedan it landed under went up in a ball of flames, the bomb inside my payment detonating. So that's his game...... I laughed a bit and pulled my Supra over into a vacant parking lot, pondering my next move.
He'll pay, alright, I thought as I drove home.
Ten minutes into my ride, I kept noticing the same pair of headlights were in my rear-view. Someone following me?