Hot blood squeezing through warping leather seats as sweat wafted with murky mist; musk racing through his nostrils. Veins pulsed as his head whipped wildly in frantic fashion. Ferocious turns left melted rubber scoring asphalt, the smell masking what was previously inhaled. Hands clenched, eyes dashing from blue to an evening horizon, cries crowded his thoughts, his body swaying by the buckling wheels.
This chemical rush, this rush, this chemical ferocity, its swift silence soldering his mind from future thought. A black frame, a four legged beast made of refined steel born for the most depth hand. The night sky sparkled with a wilting moon, burning brush scented the air, a warm breeze blew through the rising smoke. The rumbling cleared out whatever he could fear, the roaring scrape of speed left him with a lingering desire. Oh ya he was hungry, still hungry.
Soft water washed by his feet, scratchy sand sticking to his back, hair frazzled into dry clumps. His hands were coarse and rough, dark eyes and a brutish nose; swollen ears and chapped lips. Cheekbones more defined than the Rockies, a leather jacket draped over his waist. R. O. D. embroidered on the back with the inside tag initialed N.R.D. Muscles defined firmly through his white T. He slowly got up, dusting himself off whilst flinging the jacket around, sharply sliding into the sleeves. His blood began to pump like the revving of a revitalized engine. A deep breath of sea air, clearing of his nose, a husky voice mumbled under the coming chill.
"I suppose I died…"
"Have any of ya seen Rad?" A skimpy woman said sluggishly.
"Nah, but maybe Wess knows," said a dreary young man with splotchy green-blonde hair.
"Fuck that twat…"
"He only cheated once, cut him some—hmph!" A pillow slapped the man's face, but his reaction was mild to say the least. "He might be by the shack on Orie's. He loves that stupid ocean."
The skank didn't speak as she left the basement, her heels clacking, leaving a metal echo throughout the concrete cave. As she opened the door, a young man with turquoise sunglasses, blonde hair tied shrimp-ishly by his neck. A flowery button up was colorful enough to bother the woman's eyes. His sharp grin slightly put her off, something about him made her stomach churn.
"Astrit, you have a guest," she said whilst brushing past him.
"Huh? I didn't plan to—hmm. Who the hell are you?" Astrit said with a hostile glare.
"Nice to meet you, I am a bard, my name is Dante."
"A what? Just get out, I don't have the patience for pranks."
"You might be interested if I said that I had just killed one of your people."
"Huh?! Haha, you must think you're really funny…" Astrit put down his blunt, took a swig of some bottle on the counter and flipped open a knife from his pocket.
"You might also be interested if I told you that I wasn't alone…a certain man or should I say men helped me in this endeavor. Would you like to know who?"
"Who cares, I'll skin you alive and go back to what I was doing."
"Rad did say you were a piece of work, oh brother."
"Rad? You tryin' to say Rad betrayed us?"
"More so, the man called Daler."
Astrit's eyes bloomed with bloodlust, "you're dead!"
He tried to start the engine, but the bike wouldn't run. "I should of learned to ride one of these first," he mumbled.
"Shit, where have you been?" A scantily clad woman asked.
His eyes darted up to down, his mouth not moving. "I am trying to ride this bike, do you know what I should do?"
"Huh? Ain't that your Bluss-AE77, how would I know?"
"I see…"
"Hey are you okay? Why don't we walk back to my place, how bout it?"
He shook his head, his eyes were burning with a black hunger, a deep gluttony, a lustful obsession, he was searching for something. He rubbed his right earlobe, licked his dry lips for the fifth time in that minute, brushed his greased hands against his baggy leather jeans and looked the woman down one more time.
"Your place…does it have a shower?"
Blood slowly dried as green strands of hair turned red, a disfigured human slumped in a small crater. Furniture singed, alcohol spilled, records shattered, the floor permanently stained with violence. I suppose I should get going, Dante thought.
The shower was rather clean and all products were allowed to be used by insistence. The man taking the shower knew not what he should specifically do next but to clean off and get some rest. Though he could conclude, one thing was most important, he must find his original body as soon as possible. Stepping out of the cage of steam he let his shoulders relax. That is when he noticed. My skin, isn't it a bit too smooth? My face is whatever, but my body, not a single blemish. What is up with that? Combing his hair, a sleek pompadour rolled forth, a grin gripped his cheeks. With instinctual fraught, he slapped the shining teeth away. "What the?" His hair was still a tad long, it stretching down to his shoulders. "We're ready…"
The scantily clad woman rested on the compressed sofa with covers that most certainly needed to be washed. To her right a creaking noise shifted to a quick entrance, a thin man with mangy brown hair entered with a lass at his waist. Him and her had startled expressions before he reset, "Brun what are you doing here, I thought you were staying with Astrit?" asked Wess.
"Am I not allowed to enter my own home? And who is she?" Her eyes flickered with pain and disappointment, soon turning to a pussying rage.
"She's a friend, am I not allowed to—what's that noise? Is someone using my shower? Bitch! Who'd ya let in here?" Rad stepped out of the bathroom, his body properly freshened. Shaping his hair he stared at the grumbling man and the promiscuous woman hanging onto him.
"And who are you?"
"Rad, you son of uh…Oh you've done it now. Get off of me slut!" Shoving the woman to the floor, he took out a pair of brass knuckles. "Dare try to fuck my woman! Huh?!" He was like a blur, Wess blipped into Rad's blindside, in mere seconds a one-two clashed with his jaw. His body was rockin' into the wall. "Damn," Rad mumbled.
"I know you're a sturdy one, so I won't hold back!"
"Wess stop! We weren't doing anything, I promise, please! He just needed a place to clean up…"
His eyes barred a twisted leer, his grip drew, crimson dyed the carpet. In less than a second Brun's head was caved in. The prostitute screeched hysterically, her jaw was promptly removed within Wess's lapse of irritance.
"Hah…finally, women. You understand, right, Rad?"
"Wasn't she yours?"
"No matter what she was, she betrayed me. It was inevitable, just as your death will be."
"You're insane…a real lunatic."
A tall man in his late twenties stood by a Mazda MX-5, blacker than lacquer, his eyes beating like the dimming headlights. On his back Blue Needles was inscribed, as he headed into the famous docking town. On the escapades of the titular twenty-seven district city-state. Nineteen gangs harbor more power than what should be considered normal. Only one way to combat these aggressive forces is through competition. The east built on racing, the north on pure physical ability, the west on intellect, and the south on size. Brother to Wess and leader of the Blue Needles, one of the nineteen gangs affiliated within the twenty-seven district city-state. The East's third best racing team.
He enters the den of his enemies to search for the disappearance of his brother. A dark bog presses like soot on his shoulders, a deep evil vaguely sensed, glooms above. Stones slowly settle shakily within his stomach as he traverses the night of District Twenty. In the distance sitting on the hood of an Ossi GH-90, blue scales flickered from the headlights blazing around it. Turquoise glasses and glimmering blonde hair, an alligator jacket with kangaroo boots, an unbuttoned blue bonnet shirt showing his bare skin, tucked into tight white skinny trousers.
"Ha! Just my luck," Sedric said sarcastically.
"Welcome Blue Needles' Black Stallion of Myu Mountain," said Dante nonchalantly.