“Fucking dumbasses don’t know who they fucking with,” growled Rayne with a cigarette hanging from his mouth.
An angry black seventy-three Mustang roars in pursuit of a very special mark four Supra down a windy road. There is nothing but a quiet rage behind a pair of sunglasses, ramming the car down to third gear. The Supra sliding in to a turn, desperately trying to evade the star racer car driver.
“This storm is a brewing,” growled Rayne.
“Who would be stupid enough to steal from us, everybody knows Rae’s car. Only a complete fucking idiot would steal Rae’s car, seriously,” Sydni spoke.
“I don’t have the answer, only the asswhuppin to behold on on this damn fool,” he replied, tossing the car in another turn.
“They can’t think they can outrun you, I don’t think they’re gonna stop,” she claimed.
Both cars blasted through an intersection, nearly missing a garbage truck turning on the street, Rayne pulled up beside the car, just as Sydni started yelling obscenities mixed with “pull over,” the driver rammed them twice, pulling in to the parking lot of a twenty-four hour Wal-mart.
“Are you fucking kidding me,” she grabbed the dash as he pulled the e-brake, spinning the car in to the parking lot.
They flew down the aisles to the front, where the thief caused the security to run in to the lawn tractors parked outside. The Mustang opened it’s wastegates in anger as it followed suit, people scattered out of the way, Rayne decimated a baskart, taking out a headlight and cracking his windshield, chasing the thief out of the parking lot down a long road.
“I gotta end this before both cars are totaled,” he said flicking his cigarette.
“Spin him out, it’s our only choice, otherwise shits gonna get worse,” she said.
“Yeah,” he sighed.
Rayne pulled on the would be thief, with a quick jerk of the wheel, they watched the car spin three and a half times. Before Rayne could even set the brake, Sydni dashed out the car, yanked out the driver, and commenced to repeatedly punch him in the face. Rayne lit another cigarette, calmly walked over catching the guys swing at his wife, giving him a hard left to the kidney, the jaw, and a open palm to his elbow, breaking his arm. Sydni buckled him with a goal winning soccer kick to the gonads, to which Rayne grabbed his throat and pants leg, tossing him over his head, on to his back. As he lay curled up on the ground, he saw a quick kiss through his sort of good eye. A door slammed, the Supra purred back to life, eased over his legs, Rayne reversed, whipped his car around, as the thief not so concerned as tail lights faded away.
Stories Of Velocity 