The tale was meant to be a solo venture for the criminal, until on the verge of death, his thumb skated brisk over the mobile screen to ring a certain someone's number and a notable damsel was robbed off from her prestige.
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The wind careered across the vast highway gravels and lightly shuddered its grits, snaking past among numerous tyre rims before the arena coming to a gradual view was contemplated.
Several racers were scattered around, stroking the premises with their dragsters along with their clinged poses at them. Settled in a rakish stance over the car bonnets, leaned with the door frames or perched casually over the open car seats, they had secured every possible angle to idle away their hours.
One of the slacker was cross legged perched over his wheeler roof, dragging in the laboured whips of lethal smoke deep down within his breaths. Others were apparent with their engaged senses against the random drifts of their member machineries, all in all infused with sheer boredom.
Their opponent's team might have been done with their night today without any race to start with, portraying that their night was a dead beat for the circuit.
"WHERE'S THAT BASTARD?" The boy at the top rim of his car bellowed beneath, catching at his closest ally.
"Hold it Man! The way you are infront of him." A cussed smirk was jerked at him, skyrocketing his temper.
"SHUT UP!" He leaped down the car ceiling, ready to fetch up at his collars.
They seemed odds-on against the cordial terms oftentimes. Their eyes reeked of ferocity which kindled further with their earlier boredom.
Another rookie breezed into their line of attack, appearing to be the pacifist one. "Come-On dimwits!- It's not gonna end the mess."
This made the violent one to leap ahead and shove the previous boy away. "That bloody son-of-a-moron is behind this mess- CALL HIM!"
His burning tone of savagery was ignored when a rough poke was impacted onto his shoulder, spinning him towards the peacemaker. "Better buy it Rascal! The line is dead there for hours now. We can't help it."
The eyes, reeking brutish streaks, sharpened at him. "You get him! You have to warn him!"
The one with calm instincts felt a pointing finger prodded over his chest which made him sling it aside.
His eyes were briefly rolled when he drifted over his sneakers to square with the other members. "Call it a night guys! We've to find him."
A momentary silence infused across the patterned perimeters.
The one with the villainous gait, instead, marched for his car opposite to the crowd. "The hell with him!"
His low murmur indicated his departure instead of being proven of some help to them, yet it liberated others to get delved into relief.
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A blaring light bulb kept oscillating its radial iridescence across the darkened cell, the shadows silently swaying underneath it towards the opposite walls, where enclosed within was a frozen figure, dead laid over a metal bench.
