Having concluded the onerous task of registration the elemental resumed his meanderings within the brightly lit stadium. As he traveled his sharp gaze shifted from left to right as his azure eyes took in the medley of metal work before him; assessing the competition and searching for any possible threats beyond the vehicles themselves. Firearms, while not strictly forbidden within the race, were generally frowned upon due to the difficulty represented by attempting to aim and drive at the same time, more often than not an aspiring gunman would fail to hit their intended target and instead strike another oblivious contender. Even though Zephyr considered his own abilities to be significantly above par the merc had decided to take no chances and simply loaded his own firearm with blanks rounds; thereby enabling him to use the weapon to smokescreen the more lethal aspects of his powers to neutralize only his target.

Death was expensive after all and there was no sense in dealing it out for free.

Finally coming across and suitably vacant space Zephyr walked his motorcycle over to one of the structures support beams and released the kickstand before gently leaning against the machine. Once more his cobalt eyes swept his surroundings as he debated his next course of action. There was still time to find the bookie and place a bet; however in order to do so he would have to leave his motorcycle unguarded for an unknown length of time and this something the elemental was loathe to do, especially considering what had happened to his original machine. Another possibility would be to have another individual place his bet, this did not truly appeal to the merc as it required him to trust one of his current peers with a sizeable sum. The final option was to simply forgo the bet and complete the contract as things stood; sadly this was not only the dullest choice but also the most judicious.

The only wager the bookies would accept would be those which relied upon multiple factors with a manifold of outcomes, and while the elementals own abilities could tilt the odds in his favour there was only so much he could do without raising suspicion. Hypothetically speaking the merc could place a bet on himself to take first place and then eviscerate every vehicle in his vicinity the moment the race began. Despite the fact that this would almost guarantee him victory the benefits of such an action were infinitesimal when compared to the amount of ill will he would attract from the local underworld populace. There was also little point in attempting to place a wager on whether his target would survive the race; it would only publicize his intentions and possibly place his victim on guard, not to mention the odds on such a venture would be terrible.

No, the most rational course of action was to participate in the race until he had eliminated his target and then, depending upon circumstances, either attempt to pull ahead and qualify for the next round, or fall back to the point where he became a nonfactor in the race and simply slip away into the night without anyone being any the wiser.

His mind made up Zephyr relocated himself to the nearby support beam, resting against it with his head bowed and arms crossed as he waited for the race to finally begin.

--

((OOC: Well it turns out I had time to post after all, let's get this race running.))

Suddenly the screens in both warehouses went blank then switched their feeds to a black screen displaying a 3 dimensional Brood crest spinning on its axis.

“Contestants and spectators,” a smooth female voice spoke over the internal sound systems, “The Brood welcomes you to the Blood Gauntlet. Please place you’re your final bets: The race will begin in 5 minutes.”

Again the screen changed, displaying a digital map of the city. There were several blinking dots located in different places around the city—most were red but one was blue. “The blue dot represents the starting and finish line,” the same voice began explaining, “Red dots represent the checkpoints you must pass inorder to complete the race. Upon reaching the final checkpoint, the first contestant to return to the to the finish line is the winner. The first five contestants to return will qualify for the championship Brood Race—The Viral Race.” Words appeared over each blinking red dot with the names of each checkpoint: Solomon R Guggenheim Museum, Metropolitan Museum of Art, Museum of Modern Art, The Empire State Building, Tenement Museum and South Street Sea Port .

The voice continued, “Any contestant who fails to pass through every checkpoint will be disqualified. Any contestant whose vehicle becomes disabled during the race will be disqualified. Any contestant killed will be disqualified. Any contestant apprehended by authorities will be disqualified and terminated immediately. Remember contestants, the Brood is watching.” The screen quickly flashed through a series of images all obviously from hidden cameras stationed at or around each checkpoint and several from atop random buildings.
“Good luck.” Was the voice’s final offer before the image switched to a view just outside the fence and gate where Sterling remembered entering the complex only now there was a thick chalk line across the street.

“Everyone to the startling line!” Yelled the heavily pierced man with the laptop and the doors to the darkened warehouse opened.

The contestants quickly returned to their vehicles and started pulling out of the warehouse and around to the gate. Sterling refolded and put away her map before climbing atop Dragon-Fly and following the others around to the starting line. There were only about 15 contestants total, but they were a menagerie of power.

A woman with pink hair in pigtails and glowing stick bracelets stood on a large crate off to one side of the road holding a red flag with the Brood crest in its center. She smiled and waved to the racers, sashaying her bikinied body atop the crate, earning a few cat-calls from several of the cars.

Sterling was not surprised that many of the car’s contained more than just the driver. It wasn’t uncommon for a driver to have a passenger to “man the guns”, so to speak.
One of the cars however, had 3 people inside.

<< Not smart, >> Sterling told Dragon-Fly. << They're just making themselves heavier. >>

Most of the cars were actually rather bare in their interiors, the non-essential components having been stripped and removed to make the car lighter and faster.

This car, however, was obviously not bare, as the heavy thumping base of a sound system indicated.

Dragon-Fly just grunted. He was more than itching to take flight.

<< Then again, >> Sterling continued, more to herself than to her motorcycle. << They could be planning something… >> Her mind instantly brought up the image of blazing AK-47s. She wouldn’t put it past this crowd.

She shook her head as the pink haired girl whistled for the gathered’s attention.

“Good luck everyone!” She called then blew a kiss at the driver of a red sports car. “You especially Chad!”

The driver made a show of catch the kiss and placing it in his mouth, winking at the now giggling girl.

Sterling rolled her eyes and gave a quick final check to her helmet and Dragon-Fly’s body.

<< I’m fine, >> he growled, << Just get ready. >>

Pink Hair raised her flag.

Sterling relaxed her body and mind, breathing deeply, fully opening the channels between her and Dragon-Fly. She felt his eagerness as if it was her own, the warm asphalt under her tires, her engine turning heavily inside her. Poised. Ready. She flexed her accelerator, revving with impatience.

The flag fell and Sterling/Dragon-Fly shot away from the line, completely in her element.

(ooc: Don’t worry. I’ve done some research for everyone. The starting/finishing point [and where the warehouse is] is in Hunts Point. For a map with the locations mentioned marked, search google for “New York tourism” and use the google map. I also suggest glancing over the wikipedia articles about Hunts Point and the other places so you can have an idea of the area around them. I would also suggest looking at the map so you can decide what route you are planning to take, if you want to try to be efficient/avoid crowded places/want to run over the most amount of people. If you don’t care about putting that much effort in, then just follow people and be generic. ^^)

ooc - im hoping Solomon R Guggenheim Museum is the first checkpoint lol...

ic - Slade heard the announcement and slowly returned from his preparatory thoughts. He saw the other drivers in the more silent area of the warehouse snapping out of their prayers or meditations and returning to what would be the reality of their focus. The race was beginning.
Slade snorted as he heard the disqualification protocols, he had yet to meet the pig who could apprehend him! He observed the details of the course and quickly began assessing a route. He knew New York like the back of his... was it hand or wheel..?

As he settled into place on the starting point he concentrated harder on his tactics. He planned to make the first checkpoint via the blunt and direct approach. He'd make a beeline for Bruckner Expressway and head for the Willis Avenue Bridge. It seemed the most obvious route to Slade and so would be the most action-packed, just as Slade liked it. After the bridge it would be more complicated, this would be where most would diverge and try to lose each other, and the cops.
Depending on the strength of the pigs and the violence of the other brood racers Slade would try two approaches. He'd either zig zag around the areas between 1st Ave, E 106th St, 5th Ave and E 96th St and then make the leap to the checkpoint by moving down 5th Avenue, or he'd simply race down 1st Avenue and meet the checkpoint via E 88th Street. This would depend how good an idea staying in the open would be during the race, Slade considered it unlikely that the latter option would be available or practical.

As his mind raced with the plans for his first actions he considered the other racers positioning themselves for the start of the rally. The palpable tension could have been cut with a blade! The other racers definitely seemed prepared, and he felt the presence of weaponry amongst the other racers, it was a shame the brood kept a close eye on the race or Slade would have had fun transforming and using his own personal weaponry against these competitors. For now he'd just have to outdrive them. The thought of this led to another surge of adrenaline across Slade's systems. Slade chuckled, his radio crackling softly. This was living!

”Watch it!” Amp growled in irritation as one of the ravers bumped into her. The short girl seemed lost in a daze, so the redhead simply rolled her eyes and continued on by. Honestly, some people could be so rude.

The Twins were nearly back to the door, when someone else bumped them. Amp glared again, but then stopped. Ignoring the body slammer, she craned her neck to look again. She thought she’d seen a familiar figure by the bar, but now there were so many people in the way, she couldn’t be sure.

She shook her head. <“Don’t be silly,” she thought. <“Why would Grit be in a place like this.”> She pushed the thought aside, and hurried after her sister.

A short ‘song’ from Vibe convinced the two gorillas at the door that they’d never seen the petite pair leave the area, leaving the two to slip into the dark. With the longer-haired girl masking any and all noise, they made their way through the shadows to the second warehouse, where the actual racers waited impatiently for the race to begin. They skulked to the open bay door, and Amp placed a hand on the frame. She sent several rapid-fire, supersonic pulses into the warehouse. Like echolocation used by bats, the pulses remained out of normal human hearing range, but painted a perfect picture of the inside for the redhead.

”Fifteen of them, mostly cycles.” Her eyes narrowed in concentration. ”There’s a single driver near the back. A man, four-seater, this side. Probably one of the last ones out. He’ll do. Be ready to move fast.”

Vibe nodded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After what seemed like an eternity, the girls sensed accelerated vibrations coming from within. The race was about to start. They flattened themselves against the wall, blending in with the shadows, and Amp sent out a constant flow of pulses to keep track of their target. As expected, he was one of the last three out. The instant Amp sensed him come within hearing range, Vibe sent her hypnotic melody through the air, and her sister directed it to his ears alone. The man, a youth close to their age, with long black hair, pulled back in a braid, looked Native American in ethnicity. He froze upon hearing the song, and hit the brakes. Letting the other two drivers slide by, Vibe and Amp quickly slipped over and into the car, masking the sound of the door closing.

”Keep going to the starting line,” Amp ordered. ”You will race, just like all of the others. But you will stay close behind them. You will pass no one, unless we say so. Got it?” The youth nodded and obeyed, and the diminutive duo hunched out of immediate sight.

The hum and revs of impatient racers flowed into the girls like a river. Amp’s green eyes practically glowed in anticipation.

”You think this will work?” Vibe asked. Her eyes matched her sister’s, as well as the smirk that bode nothing but misery for the rest of the racers.

”Even if it doesn’t, we’re only out a hundred.” A small price to pay for what was shaping up to be the ultimate thrill ride.

There was no announcement. No ‘On your mark, get set, go.’ Not even a buzzer or gunshot. Simply a building vibration, as if all of the vehicles had merged into one enormous, growling monster. Then.....

The girls squealed a bit as the sudden jolt threw them against the seat. The instant they were away, the pair rose from the floor.

>There he is!< Vibe pointed as their event escort, and the object of their gamble, made a rather admirable dash on his bike with the front leaders.

”Keep up with that rider,” Amp ordered their driver. "Don’t get too close, but keep him in sight.” He obeyed, and the chase was on. Now the only thing left to decide was who to attack first?

”Watch it!”

“Hey you watch where I’m going.” Petunia shot back at the twin looking duo. Though her thoughts were cut short when the five minute warning rang out. Oh time to go. She gathered her lightening bugs, taking the time to look at the map, then she rushed out the door.

Petunia had been presented with a problem, and Pix loved problems. The name of the game was that the races rout was just announced. Petunia had no time to set up her bugs before without taking the chance of being completely wrong, and waisting her little friends. The other problem was there she could only control the groups of insect that were within twenty feet of her and she wouldn’t have enough time to make wave after wave of Bees once on the track because she would be small, and wouldn’t have enough skin surface to make a threat to the racers. So the solution to her dilemma was to tell her bees instincts to take her bees where she needed them to do. To do that, she had to talk to them and how do you talk to Bees? Any one know the answer? Anyone at all? Because Pix knew how to talk to bees. You had to dance!

Pix liked to dance. But firt she needed her audience.

Petunia’s skin wiggled, then little legs and wings poked through. The bees fought to wiggle their way through her skin to freedom, forming large clouds of insects that drifted from her arm, face, and out from under her cloths. Bees were continuously pouring out of Petunia. She spread her arms, and ordered the first cloud to pay attention. Now to start the first dance. A step to the right. A step to the left. Turn and boogy down. Oh yeah! Petunia finished with a move that looked like a dry heave set to slow motion. Lucky for her, Pix instructed a few of the other bees to do the dance for her. Otherwise her Bees might have gotten really bad directions.

Petunia repeated the process for each of the check points. The entire process took her four minutes, and the hole time, she continued making Bees, and sending them off to the check points. Now Pix had to get close to them. Meaning she had to hitch hike. Petunia took a running start, turning to a dragonfly in mid step, where she immediately sped off. As if she just disappeared into nothing, and dropped her cloths. She entered the first vehicle she could reach. One of the cars at the back of the line.

Petunia entered just as the door was shut by a red head. Darting back and forth in the car. Before landing on the top of the driver’s head, like a little buggy hair bow. Perfect. She could see about everything. The front runners, the wheel to measure when it would be best to use her bugs, the rear view mirror… The red heads in the rear view mirror from inside the warehouse….. Hmmm…

”Keep up with that rider, Don’t get too close, but keep him in sight.”

Petunia darted to the middle of the car, seeming to materialize over the middle front seat facing the odd two. Glaring at them with her little dragonfly eyes… that is as best as dragonflies can glare. Kind of hard since they don’t have eye lids. “Hey! What are you two doing here?” She buzzed.

(Cliechet. I know.... Tell me if I need to change this.)

A spell seemed to fall over the arena as the powerful speaker system cut through the general clamor, rendering all participants silent and immediately ceasing any pointless palaver as all present listened keenly for the necessary checkpoints. Zephyr himself removed his obsidian helmet and closed his eyes as he concentrated fully on the announcement; taking note of each location and swiftly marking it in his mental map of the city. Although he had no intention of finishing such a senseless tournament he would need knowledge of the checkpoints in case his target somehow managed to elude him in the early minutes of the race. Although such a thing was unlikely the elemental always tended to err on the side of caution, after all for all he knew this “Wlydecard” could be a mutant himself.

Unlike the rest of his fellow contestants Zephyr was not overly concerned with planning a route. He was not here to race, no, his intentions were somewhat more sinister in nature; he was here to take a life, perhaps more if time permitted it but certainly nothing less. Any route which deviated from his targets path would therefore be useless and so while the elemental did memorize each location, he did not use the information instead twisting his aqua gaze until the flamboyant individual known as “Wyldecard” rested comfortably within his peripheral vision where he could keep an eye on him.

Sadly wherever money is involved there shall always be those who seek to seek to twist events to their own ends. Zephyr himself was an example of this and yet for some reason he still experienced a mild sense of surprise when a series of sharp vibrations echoed through the air, resonating keenly against every object in the room, including the merc himself. As the other contestants readied themselves and their vehicles the elemental was largely ignored as his head snapped towards the source of the unexpected disturbance and his cobalt orbs narrowed as he spotted a pair of familiar redheads steal into the warehouse. The diminutive duo were well known to the elemental, they were after all one of the first mutants he had encountered when he’d arrived in America over a year ago and they had been instrumental in the development of his own mutation, unfortunately they had parted on could be said were less than friendly terms and as such Zephyr did not relish their presence. In his eyes they were simply an unnecessary complication; one he could easily remove. However just as the hazel haired merc had resolved to dispatch the pestiferous pair the residual hum in the air increased tenfold as scores of motors began to revv, including the elementals target vehicle, and so with an irritable sigh Simon permitted the two girls to carry on with whatever their asinine agenda might be, raising an inquisitive brow when they entered another vehicle uncontested but otherwise leaving them to their own devices.

Nearly all the participants had started their engines by this point and it was clear by the heavy tension in the air that the ridiculous race would soon begin. Having no desire to give his target a head start Zephyr swiftly donned his onyx helmet and mounted his machine, deftly kicking out the support stand as he activated the ignition and allowed the roar of his own machine to fill the air.

It was time to earn his pay.

((OOC: Sorry about the delay. Real life decided I needed a round-house kick to the face. ))

As Sterling/Dragon-Fly speed across the ground at a breakneck speeds so did the 15 other vehicles. Sterling/Dragon-Fly however, no longer noticed the competition. They didn’t see one of the cars, obviously sabotaged, swerve and erupt into flames only 100 yards from the starting line nor the remaining 14 racers break away and speed of into 3 different direction—A group of 4, their group of 5 and another of 5. They didn’t even register that they were currently at the head of their group. All the two knew was the rushing pleasure that only incredible speeds could bring. Body pressed over the sloping back of the motorcycle, Sterling was no longer a girl but merely an extension of the powerful motorcycle’s frame; they were for all practical purposes one solid being. They no longer spoke. There was no need for communication, so closely their connection now intertwined.

They were focused completely on the still cooling tarmac under them, cutting the air before them. Effortlessly they dodged obstacles, darting with the innate finesse of one who had long been intimate with the road. The other’s behind them only registered as important when a sleek red sports car muscled its way beside them, edging against their right side. Engine roaring in their ears, the car attempted to sideswipe them and only with some expert maneuvering did they manage to not end up a ball of flames on the side of the road. The car continued to harass them and Sterling/Dragon-Fly was forced to decelerate or become a grease spot. As they pulled back, recognition vaguely registered the red sports car as being the one that belonged to an over confident driver someone had once called “Chad”. As the car shot by them, the thought easily passed into the ether at the back of their mind, a second thought about how tacky the cards painted on its hood looked nipping at the first thoughts heals.

Another car, this one deep blue, passed them and the red car bullied it away as well. Sterling/Dragon-Fly used the distraction to their advantage and gunned their engine, darting around the right side of the bullying car. They had nearly succeeded in sneaking around his right side when a spray of bullets ricocheted off the ground next to them, causing them to nearly swerve into a lamppost in surprise.

‘Weapons? This early in the race?’ They thought.

Sterling/Dragon-Fly chanced a glance at the red car and realized he had both his windows rolled down and an Uzi clutched in his left hand, crossed over his chest as he tried unsuccessfully to hit them. They pulled back slightly into his blind spot and counted their blessings that he hadn’t been holding the weapon in the other hand. It was only the awkwardness of firing across himself that kept the driver from off road-ing them permanently. The blue car on the other hand car wasn’t as lucky. Another spray of bullets issued from the red car and Blue spun out of control and eventually exploded in a twisted ball of indistinguishable metal. Sterling/Dragon-Fly decided it best to ride in Red’s blind spot until a—safe—opportunity to pass presented itself. Of course the driver of Red didn’t like the idea and Sterling/Dragon-Fly were forced to dart back and forth as the car tried to run them off the road.

Distantly she registered the sound of more gunshots somewhere not far way, but it was irrelevant to her situation and passed from her mind. All that was important was the road and not dying on it.

ooc - i've only mentioned two cars in my group, so there's two slots for anyone who wants to race/try to hurt me lol

ic - As the race shot off he felt the blast of some idiot who had forgotten to keep a careful eye on his engines before racing. One thing Slade had learnt was watch your car, watch your back. Or in Slade's case simply watch your back! He shot across the expressway with the direct intention of meeting that bridge before anyone else. The less people trying to knock him into the river the better! The race seemed to be splitting up, why people would try and get over via a different route was beyond Slade... There were four others with him. This would have to be dealt with.

Deliberately slowing down he let a blast erupt from his exhaust to feint a breakdown. As the unsuspecting rival in the green racer shot past Slade refired his engines. The green car swerved violently and bullets began to pour from the rear. Slade zig-zagged and his radio roared with expletives as the spray richocheted off his sides. He pulled to the right in an attempt to draw them out and as they took the bait Slade careened to their left and bolted forward, ramming their exposed left rear and spinning them off course. As he drove off he felt their engines sputter and stall. Well that was one down, the rest would be more difficult.

In his group he was third as they pulled over the bridge. He decided a bit of pressure was needed, pulling directly up behind the second car he sat directly behind it, shepherding it towards the first. If he could slot them side by side hopefully one would gun the other down. Getting others to do his dirty work was always a reliable scheme... almost always... As he pressured the car infront it seemed to realise what was happening and veered off into the opposite lane. Slade growled at the psycho and shot forward. Looks like he'd be the one risking his neck.

As they cleared the bridge, Slade shot down 1st avenue in pursuit of the lead vehicle in his group. The psychotic car that had braved the opposite side of the road seemed to have survived and was now haring after him. Another vehicle was in the vicinity. So much for removing the opposition... He heard the screams of sirens and scowled, no easy route down the expressway for him, stupid pigs... into the crossroads he goes! As the lead vehicle charged into the smaller, less police friendly, roads Slade followed suit, desperately trying to zig zag faster than the lead competitor. Soon they would be at the first checkpoint and all the groups... or survivors of the groups would regroup. Then all hell would break loose!

(OOC: We'll whittle down Group 3 and meet up with the rest of you at the next checkpoint. )

“Hey! What are you two doing here?”

With their senses heightened, the Sonic Sisters had no problems hearing the cartoonishly high voice addressing them. Believing where it came from proved a much more interesting dilemma.

Amp crossed her eyes looking at the talking dragonfly, then looked at her sister. "You heard that, too?" Vibe's facial expression answered sufficiently. Amp raised her hand and swatted the bug, trying to shoo it out the window.

The chaotic nature of the race surged to the fore at that moment, effectively redirecting the diminutive duo's line of focus. The screeching of tires announce the splitting up of the speedsters. Obeying his passenger's previous orders, their driver peeled off with group of five, following the designated motorcycle. Vibe pouted.

"Well, there goes our hundred," she sulked aloud. "No way we'll be able to fix the race now."

"Meh, who cares? No big loss, and we can still have some thrills."

She took in the group of drivers they'd split off with; three motor cycles, atop one of which their mark sat, their car, and a second car painted in black and silver.

"Mmm! Hot paint job," Vibe remarked with a grin. "It'd be a shame to mess that up."

We'll make it fast, then. You." Amp tapped their driver's shoulder, again shooing the dragonfly that had apparently decided to hitchhike. "Tailgate the four-wheeler."

Obediently their transport began maneuvering behind the black vehicle which currently resided in third place in their group. The cycle in fourth place didn't want to give up his slot, forcing them to swerve erratically. Being the larger vehicle would have worked in their favor eventually, but Amp saw no reason to wait. Sticking her arm out the window, she aimed a sharp concussion blast at the upcoming pavement. The asphalt cracked and buckled, and the cycle’s back tire blew out, sending the machine and its rider skidding off into the shadows. Meanwhile they pressed forward to crowd the black and silver machine.

Then Amp realized that the dragonfly still hovered nearby. ”You still here? Go aw-aaiie!!” She raised her hand to hit the bug, but lost her balance as the two vehicles made contact. The squeal of tires and scratching metal pierced the air.

Ok… Dodging was fun the first time one of the twins tried to smack little, cute, miss dragonfly around. Dodging was fun, to a lesser extent, the second time, as Petunia maneuvered around the back of the drivers head, but the third. Oh come on!

Pix danced just out of one of the girl’s reach. “Na-nhi-Na-nhi-Naaa-NaaaaH!” Pix swerved backwards towards the front of the car, flying right into the Dash as they experiences some road level turbulence. Smack. “Ouch.” Her little voice practically coughed out as she flipped tail over head, and grabbed to dash to try and cling to it. Peaking over at the wind shield, she could sense her friends that they were approaching, but with the distraction at hand, she had missed the chance to try to conduct a few into the car a head of them, and instead only turned on their aggravation, on a small group of pedestrians. “Oops. Stupid red head made me miss.” She grumbled as her body twisted around in place so she could see the disappearing crowd, swatting their hands over their heads. The pheromones from the first bee stings kept the rest of her first swarm aggravated, enough to keep up the assault. Well she still had other groups that they would be passing.

The cute little miss dragonfly grumbled and dropped off of the dash, darting to the floor under the first seat where it hid for a moment, till it took on a new form. This one was hairy, had eight legs, and was the size of a dinner plate. Utilizing the larger body mass and larger skin surface to make more friends. Bigger friends than what dragonflies could make.

Petunia’s back arched, under the seat, so her abdomen was in the air, and the backs of the hairs rippled. Long lines wiggled under the skin, and finally eight legs grew like weeds in the ground, out from her back. Duplicating the size of the legs she already had, Then a duplicate of her head swam to the surface, with a duplicate of her body. The new spider drone moved aside and Petunia repeated the process. Two spider duplicates, Then three, then four, She continued making them while the first four positioned themselves. Careful not to disturb the girl’s feat, they stretched their bodies out, behind their heals to get by, and swiveled their little legs around for longer reach. The first for were in position when the fifth duplicate climbed out from under the seat.

There was one spider at the foot of each back door flattened between the seat and the weal wells. One stayed under the seat with Petunia, One went under the seat of the driver, and the fifth was the most important. Because he was most likely the first that was about to cause a… reaction…

The fifth looked up, between the sisters, rearing up on it’s back four legs, and placing it’s front two right legs on one sister, and it’s front two left legs on the other, ever so lightly and gently, it began to climb to their knees. The spiders between the seats and the doors, edged their ways more carefully, to the back of the head rests.

ooc - for all intents and purposes hades is no longer in brood races.

‘Game on’

With a simple flick of the wrist the growl of the merc’s own engine swiftly joined that of its competitors as the final signal was given and the racers departed in symphony of shriek tires and roaring engines as their vehicles darted into life and eagerly dashed down the unmarked tarmac. The collectively velocity of the group increased at a rapid pace as the competitors sought to reach their optimum speed before dealing with the competition, for his part Zephyr resisted the urge to shift to his final gear and instead allowed himself to fall back and simply track his target. The scarlet vehicle had already begun to pull ahead of the group; using its oversized frame to muscle the other contestants out if it’s path as it somehow continued to accelerate down the road.

‘Any second now…’

The drivers swiftly bore down on their first intersection effortlessly cutting through the air around them and deftly swerving past oncoming obstacles as they began to contend with civilian cars as well as each other. Then, abruptly, they had entered the crossroads and the pack dispersed; each driver diverging down the route they believed would lead them to success. Victory however was not at the forefront of the elementals mind, not yet at least, cobalt orbs remained fixed upon the gradually dwindling crimson car in the distance as it closed in on upon a solitary rider and swerved wildly in an attempt to run the competitor off the road. Fortuitously though the driver was skilled enough to recognize the danger her position presented and with swift movements manipulated her machine from harm’s way. Although undoubtedly necessary the manic maneuver had cost the girl her lead in the pack and any attempt to regain position were met with a hail of gunfire.

‘What’s he playing at?’

Zephyr’s gaze narrowed beneath the confines of his onyx helm, given what little he had seen of his targets method thus far the man was completely reckless; his vehicle veered violently between the lanes as he fought to maintain his place at the head of the driving drove, yet against all common sense, and possibly even physics, the aptly name “Wyldecard” had yet to suffer so as a scratch. The crimson machine almost seemed to be anticipating the movements of the competition as they raced towards their goal; always in precisely the right spot at the right time to pull ahead or push back challengers. It was little wonder the man was the favourite of the race for he integrated two key components which were guaranteed to win the heart of any adrenaline addicted crowd; lightening reflexes which kept him ahead of the game and a level of confidence which bordered on suicidal, allowing him to weave in and out of oncoming traffic with an ease that even the elemental envied. Still no one’s luck is limitless and Wyldecards was bound to extinguish sooner or later, Zephyr was simply going to accelerate the process.

Carefully removing one gloved hand from the handlebars the merc’s azure eyes remained fixed on his objective as he shifted slightly; leaning away from the motorcycles frame as he partially unzipped his jacket and withdrew the slim pistol which had been holstered within. Now that most of the racers had dispersed there was little point in drawing out his assignment any longer, the sooner he fulfilled the contract the sooner he could start enjoying the race.

Suddenly shifting into his final gear the elemental gradually gained on the incarmined vehicle before him, swiftly placing himself in his targets leftward blind spot as he made a show of taking aim with his empty firearm as he rapidly sent his mind to work on reshaping the air to his will, crafting it to a new purpose as he compressed and honed a selection of particles into a veritable imitation of a 19mm projectile and letting it fly with a sudden burst of energy towards the rear tire of the crimson sports car as he pulled the trigger of his berretta pistol and fired a blank round to cover his actions.

By all rights things should have ended then and there, the hubristic Wyldecard should have lost control of his machine, swerved off the road or possibly an oncoming car and come to rest as a smoking heap. Against all odds though, just as the elementals intangible bullet should have shredded the rubber of the rear tire the entire vehicle veered fractionally to the right and the ghostly projectile missed its intended target and caused the mercenary to frown as he quickly made another attempt only to have machine shift slightly to the left, once again dodging the bullet.

‘Something’s not right here…’

Eeeeeeeeh! Sorry about that guys! School got CRAZY last semester as I was taking all my uppermost Sr. course and had a MASSIVE Sr. project due. Luckily this semester should be much calmer (its also my last until grad school...if I get in ).I'm pretty sure most everyone has totally moved on from this thread so I thought it would be a good idea if we just wrapped it up in one big blow. ^_^

And This is How it Happened:

Everything is going great, just a few crashes and lots of adrenalin...until about the middle of the race. The race is betrayed!! Somehow the authorities got wind of what was going on and quickly move to shut down the event. Cue lots more crashes and adrenaline, even some innocent bystander deaths as racers strive to not be caught but still place. In the last stretch of the race, the FBI crash into the main rave party, sending EVERYONE into a wild panicked frenzy. The people in the upper boxes slip away through special hidden escape routes while those in the dance area trample each other in attempt to get out. Many people get caught, though many more make it to safety though secret passages or by the sheer confusion in numbers. A few racers drop out of the race in a panic, but most remain undeterred and continue for the finish line….where cops are beginning to converge. A flurry of confusing events! Sterling and Slade colliding across the finish line, placing 3rd and 4nd qualifying them for the semi-finals, but severely injuring Sterling.

There are 3 more places for people to finish in: 1st, 2nd, and 5th . Feel free to place if you want. ^_^

ooc - btw ster do you want to do a post brood races thread together, slade probably would have taken you the the hospital, while not a "good guy" he's not a d*ck lol

OOC: I was thinking more of a Post-BroodRaces:Escaping From the Authorities type of thing, and Sterling doesn't want to go to the hospital and end up arrested by the po-po, so she will probably fight you on that. XDD PM me and we'll talk more if need be.