NationStates Jolt Archive

Burnout Beaulevard
Barrio Del Sol Sangriento
Showroomtown, HotRodia

Helena Dolorosa picked up the carving knife she had been using to prepare a pleasant roasted chicken for dinner as she heard the stamping feet. She had heard the roaring of powerful engines out on the historic Beaulevard, but thought nothing of it at the time. It could have been many people. The stamping feet in her housing complex were another story. Not many people who had any kind of sense of self-preservation were brave enough to disturb the kind of people who lived here. She moved quietly but quickly to her bedroom and armed herself further with a stun gun. It would incapacitate and inflict pain, but not kill. As jaded and desensitized to violence as she had become in this place, she was not a killer, and took pride in that fact. It was one of the few things that separated her from these other people, one the few poverty-stricken populations in the nation. Helena had been in better circumstances previously, and she intended to be in better circumstances again. But she needed to stay alive to accomplish that. This in mind, she slowed her breathing and sharpened her awareness, letting the sound of the stamping feet fill her ears as it grew louder. Suddenly, the sound stopped, replaced by shuffling noises outside her door.

Across the street...

Dandy Jones pulled the bottle of tequila away from his lips with a satisfied sigh and went to retrieve a couple of his weapons from the concealed closet under the delapidated staircase in his apartment. At first he had resolved to stay out of the matter, but something about those uptight kids irked him. They needed to be set straight, and he was the man to set things straight. Or so he told himself when he was finishing his drink on the dirty balcony that afforded him a great view of Burnout. He had watched them come down the badly-scarred Beaulevard, heard the sound of the engines coming from miles away. Now it was time to make sure the punks got what they had been asking for ever since they had started acting like they ran things around here. Dandy loaded the last of his ammunition into the Mora and made sure it was ready to fire and attached it to his belt. Then, as he walked out of the main entrance to the apartment building, he shifted the two bottles of tequila from under his arms to his hands. Walking across the Beaulevard and towards the two garishly-painted cars, he spit in disgust at the way the fine machines were ruined by the kids and smashed a bottle of tequila underneath each one, underneath where the gas tanks were located. Pausing for a final smirk before finishing his work, Dandy used a small unidentifiable tool to weaken part of the structure of the tanks so the fire would burn through. A couple of lit matches sailed through the air, and Dandy ran like hell at the front door of the housing complex.

Burnout Beaulevard
Barrio Del Sol Sangriento
Showroomtown, HotRodia

Herman Doradoba, well-known on most of Burnout for his quiet patience, was so angry that the people who looked into his eyes as he walked past them on the street couldn't stand to look for long. His dark eyes burned with the cold simmer of rage-fired machismo. His stolen car had turned up in front of the house where he stayed, stripped and tagged with a familiar sign. His old enemy had returned, and he knew he couldn't let his anger overwhelm him, or the game was fucked for him, and this was a game he couldn't afford to lose. He rhythmically clenched and unclenched his fists as he walked, his mind moving him out of habit on an old route. When he got to the door, he knocked heavily and shouted for the one person he knew could help. When she didn't show after a few minutes, he walked off again down the Beaulevard, walking in time with the music blaring from passing cars. He reached his place and went inside, forgetting his resolve to keep his cool, and hit the bedroom. His favorite strap was always there, and this time it was comforting to hold. He wasn't thinking about the last time he had held it, because that would just make things harder. The old Bastardo automatic was cold and gleaming in the balmy air.

Down the street...

Filana Renault smashed the punching bag even harder this time, leaving a large dent on the rough red surface. She let out a sigh and started kicking the hell out of it, her blows smooth and precise, blows that would easily knock a solid man down. Her trainer, framed by the delapidated building in which he had trained too many fighters, raised an eyebrow at her. When she didn't stop, he shrugged and walked away. He knew that it was best not to disturb her when she was like this. Filana watched him walk away, and when she was sure he was gone, she started stripping the clothes from her well-muscled form. Her workout clothes were replaced by street gear, tough leather and hard metal that had made a lasting impression on many men who had been foolish enough to try their luck with her. Once outfitted, she was ready for the fight tonight. The one her trainer didn't know about, and wouldn't approve of if he had. He never liked it when she took on multiple opponents on the street. He thought it was too risky. Silly old man. Filana strode out the back door and started running towards her fun for the evening.

Burnout Beaulevard
Barrio Del Sol Sangriento
Showroomtown, HotRodia

Sondra Derron smiled through the grease on her face as she worked. This would be one kick-ass machine once she was done with it. She looked up at the shop clock, reading it upside down as she had gotten in the habit of doing, and realized it was time to go. The other mechanics were already up and washing themselves, getting ready to leave to their homes, their families, their lives. Sondra's smile disappeared. She had nothing to go home to, no life but the cars she worked on. It had always been that way, and she had always wanted it to be different. But there was little to be done about it. The Beaulevard had been a good parent, a good teacher, a constant companion to her. The hot pavement of Burnout was the one thing in her life she could count on. Shrugging away her thoughts, Sondra waited until the other mechanics had left, then removed her uniform and walked over to the lockers, changing into her usual clothes. Most days she changed with the others, most of them men, and enjoyed their ogling and teasing, noticed with delight the hunger in their eyes when they looked at her. But today, her thoughts were dreary, and she wasn't interested in feeling wanted, though that was what she had always wanted. Perhaps it was self-denial. She wasn't sure, and at the moment she didn't care. She headed for the back of the shop, towards the exit that she used every workday.

Behind the shop...

The wall was warm to the touch of Derek Brickyard's tough, rough, calloused hands. He coughed, his voice gruff and strained because he had been running, trying to get away from the crazy lady who had chased him for several miles because she thought he had looked at her daughter in some inappropriate way. That was the impression he had gotten from all the cursing and yelling, at least. He shook his head sadly, knowing that he was too old for this, and that he was sure as hell too old for that girl he had been chased over. The years had beaten him down. His body, anyway, and his ragged clothing too. The mind and spirit had never faded, and he was glad that they had, considering that they were what had kept him alive. His luck certainly had not kept him alive. It seemed like his life was one accident, one instance of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, one beating after another. Oh well. He smirked bitterly and made vulgar noises at the universe, the lines on his face collecting and forming angry wrinkles.

Burnout Beaulevard
Barrio Del Sol Sangriento
Showroomtown, HotRodia

Carlo Terrada nodded his head slowly, keeping time with the bass blowing out of his THR Matador's speakers, feeling the vibrations that shook the sweet ride and the steamy air that surrounded it. The 23 inch wheels looked even more massive than they were on the relatively small car as the blades sliced through the vibrating air. He turned and smiled at the woman in the passenger seat, taking his right hand off the steering wheel and putting it on her thigh. She took the hand in hers and moved it to her firm abdomen, letting it rest there for a moment. Then she started to move his hand again, and he could feel her breath coming faster, so he pressed the button that rolled up the tinted windows with his left hand. He wasn't exactly a gentleman, but that didn't mean he was a complete asshole who would let anyone who was walking down Burnout watch a woman like this. Not that she would have cared, but he had his standards. The Beaulevard had not completely eroded his sense of propriety as it had done for so many others.

Around the corner...

Jacob Charge poked his head around the corner of the abandoned building, keeping an eye on the nice Matador like his set wanted. When those tinted windows rolled up, Jacob knew exactly what was going on, and smiled. The people in the car would be very surprised at what happened next. Jacob signalled two of the crew, and they loaded their heavy-caliber Shocks, sliding the clips in softly. They crept along the wall of the empty building towards Jacob, and then gave him a nod. Jacob backed away a little from the wall and crept slowly back to the rear of the building. When he heard a barely audible scream over the music blaring, he silently urged his brothers to move. Muevele, muevele! They heard it too, and knew that it was time. They raced on steady feet towards the classic HotRodian vehicle, their steady hands full of familiar steel.

Burnout Beaulevard
Barrio Del Sol Sangriento
Showroomtown, HotRodia

The suit wrapped Wesara's body like an expensive gift, accentuating what she wanted it to and hiding what she didn't want others putting their eyes on, including the men around her. They were there to protect her, but she wanted the suit to hide her Samba .38 that she carried close in case her other protection ran out on her, like most men did. But that didn't matter anymore. These men were expandable, plastic tools that she had used and would toss aside in the slick streets. Wesara stood slowly, letting the suit settle around her, making sure to conceal the Samba moving next to her skin in its velvet holster. She smiled, and gave the men a signal, which they obeyed, and stayed where they were. They would die when she left the room. Other tools would take their place in her garage, and another chapter in her career would begin. People needed to forget their lives, and they were willing to give her plenty of money if she could provide.

Behind a wall...

Shamus Coloro put the shades on, hiding the cold eyes he had earned doing the same kind of things he was about to do again. The knives in his hands were held near the grease stain on the wall, the pale shadow reminding him of a pool of blood from long ago. Shamus shook his head, hearing a woman's heavy shoes moving away from him through the walls with his enhanced hearing. The signal would be coming soon, he knew. As the smooth sound of a door closing came to him, Shamus opened his own door, and the sweet steel left his left hand to meet the throat across the room. He spun, and his right hand released more steel into a man's sternum, silencing the sounds he was about to make. The third man threw a cocked arm at Shamus, but he was already headed for the floor, his legs swinging as his body rotated, and a torqued shoulder sent the hard bone of Shamus' stiff knuckles into soft skin, rendering the third speechless. Standing was easy, and Shamus exited the room as silently as he had entered, leaving three bad lives behind him.

Burnout Beaulevard
Barrio Del Sol Sangriento
Showroomtown, HotRodia

Helena heard the whispered words through the wall and door, and waited for the threats to begin. She did not wait long, and heard the want in the hard voice that called to her through the door. Abrele, Helena. That voice made her shiver, and she knew that there were two meanings to the words issuing from his lips. The person with that voice was a boy known on Beaulevard for his brutal treatment of anyone who crossed his path, and Helena had the misfortune of having crossed his path in the past. She stepped away from the door, moving quiety towards the window, and heard the sound of the door cracking. Her head turned back, and saw a hole in the door, a fist pulling back out of the hole. She sped up, making sounds with her shoes on the clean floor, and hoped the floor would not be stained with blood tonight. The door slammed open, and she turned again, almost at the window, firing the stun gun several times at the doorway. Three figures fell back onto the others, slowing their progress, and keeping Helena safe for a little longer, enough to reach the window and escape. Helena turned back towards the window, and a man hopped through, smiling as he saw her. He held a Samba .38 in his hand. Helena smiled back, moving her arm as she did, and the man screamed in pain as the knife penetrated his groin.

Across the street...

Dandy hit the door running, and it opened obligingly, allowing him access to the rest of the building. The stairs were not so obliging, or maybe it was his body, softened by tequila and sloth over the past few months. His breath came shallow as he stepped onto the floor he knew would hold his targets. The punks. He hoped they weren't feeling lucky. A few seconds to allow his heart to catch up with him, and Dandy pulled out the Mora, swinging the shotgun into a firing position that would strike most men in the upper chest, neck, and head. As he ran down the hallway, he noticed that several of them were just getting to their feet. Helena must have managed to hit them pretty good. Dandy smiled at the thought as he sprinted towards the posse and fired a shot directly into a very shocked-looking young man's head. As Dandy plowed into the rest of the posse, he fired again, injuring another young man, and bowled them over, losing his footing the process. He had known that was likely to happen, so he let himself fall and rolled back to his feet, now facing his targets from the other side. He smiled coldly, and fired again, taking another life. One of them struggled to his feet out of the tangle of bodies and started towards Dandy, and got the shit knocked out him by an elbow to the jaw. He fell against the wall of the hall, stunned, and Dandy finished him with the same elbow, smashing into soft and vital tissue.

Burnout Beaulevard
Barrio Del Sol Sangriento
Showroomtown, HotRodia

Herman left the bedroom with the same quick steps that had brought him there, carrying the Bastardo loosely in his left hand. The safety was on, he knew, so he started running towards a place he knew down the street, a place where he could usually find his posse. The sweat started to make an obvious pattern on the tight shirt that showed his massive muscles as he ran. He found himself thinking as his legs pumped, propelling him down the broken concrete to his destination. Those putas had better be there when I get there. The rage gradually left him as the delapidated buildings of the Beaulevard passed in his vision, and his run slowed to a jog. As his blood cooled, Herman started thinking more clearly, and after a few moments, he stopped jogging and started walking back the way he had come, a smirk on his face and a cold light in his eyes. He picked up speed again, and the Bastardo in his hand no longer reminded of him of an old mistake he had made the last time he had let anger control his actions. He knew his enemy wouldn't be expecting this, and he planned to make the most of it. The man might be hard to kill, but his family woudn't be.

Down the street...

Filana's tough feet hit the pavement over and over, sending her quickly over the broken concrete that had been such a regular feature of her landscape since childhood. She could still see herself as a child, running and playing with other little girls, her dark hair flying wildly behind her as she ran and laughed. Now she, like her hair, was more controlled, and stronger. But even though she had changed, some things were the same. The same dangers lurked in the shadows of old buildings, walked under the lights of new edifices. The nights felt the same as they always had, the damp heat pressing on her body in the darkness. The dark leather outfit and metal accoutrements pressed her down further as she ran past the darkened streets on her way to a fight she had a lot of reasons for wanting to win. Her tough feet finally brought her to the arena, an old, rarely-used parking lot on Burnout, surrounded by a solid fence paid for with money earned with blood and pain.

Burnout Beaulevard
Barrio Del Sol Sangriento
Showroomtown, HotRodia

The door swung open, arcing in the sunlight, towards the outside wall of the shop. It stopped short, hitting gentle flesh where it would usually encounter hard concrete. A slight grunting sound came to Sondra's ears around the old door as it swung a few inches back in her direction, and after the passing of a few seconds, an older man stepped out from behind the door and walked gingerly away, his pace slow and his voice grumbling out epithets at the universe. Pity was not a familiar emotion for Sondra, but it had happened to her a few times before, and she recognized it easily enough. She stood in the doorway, her shoulders slumped in fatigue and depession, and let her divided conscience, such as it was, fight over what she should do. As he was passing out of her line of sight under the burning light of the sun, the inner conflict was resolved, and she called to him.

Behind the shop...

Derek was starting to feel a little better about things when a young woman's voice cooled the hot air for an instant while she called to him. His mood went back to bad in that same instant. What the hell does she want? He kept plodding forward, still holding a hand absent-mindedly over the place where the door had struck his body with the most force. Small feet followed him, pounding the pavement and stirring the hot air. They moved in front of him and held their position, and an apology was issued with a caring voice. It had been so long since he had heard a caring tone of voice directed at him, and apologies were pretty rare in his experience. He started to feel light-headed, and fell into the gentle arms of the oppressive heat.

Burnout Beaulevard
Barrio Del Sol Sangriento
Showroomtown, HotRodia

The woman lay back against the passenger seat of the Matador, sprawled there as if exhausted, enjoying the feel of the luxurious leather on her skin. She turned and smiled at Carlo, showing her fine teeth, and feeling an urge to bite something. She wondered idly if perhaps he would let her use her mouth to good effect. Carlo smiled back instinctively, enjoying the pleasure reflected in it, noticed her mouth open, and had a similar thought. Sadly, before that thought could be realized, there was a heavy tapping on the tinted glass window to his left. Shock struck him as he saw the heavy steel of a heavy-caliber weapon and realized what had made the tapping, and he quickly settled into a driving position and put his hand on the shifter knob. Taking a deep breath, he put his feet and hands into action. The classic ride rumbled and burned into action on the hard pavement of the Beaulevard.

Outside the car...

Jacob Charge felt his eyelids blink shut just as the two of his crew tapped on the glass. He waited in the hot air, expecting the window to roll down and money to be tossed out, giving his crew a chance to acquire the car. Instead, the car started up and roared away, leaving its assailants standing back on the hard pavement to fire futilely at it from a distance. Frustrated, they threw their hands into the air and fired a few more rounds to release their anger at something. Jacob wondered where those bullets would come down, and if they would ever be seen again, or lie neglected on Burnout for years like so many other things. He started walking away, back around the corner, to look for another mark. He was hungry, and that meant getting money, which meant getting it illegally, given the lack of legitimate employment in the area. Sometimes, Jacob just wanted to live somewhere, anywhere else than this familiar hell that had been his home for all his thirteen years.

Burnout Beaulevard
Barrio Del Sol Sangriento
Showroomtown, HotRodia

Wesara walked, her shoes tapping on the grey ground that was so ubiquitous here on the Beaulevard. As she approached the sedate black sedan, its shadow haunted by men with big guns and quite probably small cocks, she allowed her smile to shine upon them and walked around the car while pretending to inspect it, giving them several nice views of her body. Wesara knew from experience that they would do their work better if they thought they might get a little something extra from her. She didn't need to truly follow through on any of her unspoken promises, of course. As long as she flaunted the goods in front of their leering faces, they would be held in thrall. All except one. But he was the only exception. And she had a plan to deal with that anyway. Even the most valuable tools sometimes needed replacement. It was a shame they didn't make them like they used to.

In the area...

Shamus knew his value, and adjusted his prices accordingly. His services had been purchased at a high cost by Wesara. Some of that cost had been paid in blood, some by more conventional means. He slipped about the back alleys, watching the burning sun swing low above the jagged horizon. Her destination was not unknown to him, and he moved towards it with a stealthy speed developed through months of practice on the hard grey ground. He was aware that he had outstayed his welcome in Wesara's orbit, and that his end would not be a comfortable one. The woman had an unfortunate habit of changing the guard in a very permanent way for those who were on their way out, and he doubted she would make an exception for him. This presented a problem, but one with a readily apparent solution. Sadly for Wesara, it was a solution remarkably similar to many of her own solutions to problems, and Shamus was dead set on this particular solution. He rather thought he would be doing many on Burnout a favor by getting rid of her and her little empire built on the addictions of others. His smile at the thought was cold and flat, much like his weaponry.

Burnout Beaulevard
Barrio Del Sol Sangriento
Showroomtown, HotRodia

The man's expression changed from one of victory to one of defeat, a very pointed defeat. Helena removed the knife from his groin, and he collapsed onto the floor, unable to do anything but scream out his pain for the Beaulevard to hear. Somehow, she doubted that anyone would care, even the ones who weren't too busy surviving to listen. Shotgun blasts added to the noise, and Helena wondered why life kept saving her from death only to leave her in hell. She just wanted out of this awful place. It was the disgrace of a nation. Helena watched as another man stepped through the broken door, a Mora resting casually in one hand. The smell of tequila followed him into the room, and it was at that moment that she broke into a smile. A hug soon followed the smile.

Through the door...

Dandy couldn't hear anything except the sound of a man screaming in the room, so he decided to move in and finish the last one off. But he stopped as he stepped over the broken wreck of a door, looking with intensely glazed eyes at the woman with the bloody knife. There was something very attractive about her at the moment, but he wasn't sure what it was. Maybe the tequila, because he usually just saw her as a friend and nothing more. Or maybe the hot blood in his veins from the recent action. Her suddenly throwing herself at him for a close hug didn't help cool him down any. He let it go on for a moment, but had to step back and stop. He decided now would be a good time to start cleaning up the mess, and told her so. She nodded, and they started wrapping bodies in garbage bags and carrying them out.

Burnout Beaulevard
Barrio Del Sol Sangriento
Showroomtown, HotRodia

The lights were on in the large house as Herman approached, and the voices of adults and children spilled into the damp air that covered the street. He tensed and then relaxed his hand, the one that held the heavy steel. He walked casually up to the front entrance, fired a shot into the lock mechanism on the door, and kicked it open. He saw a young girl staring at the doorway, her mouth wide with surprise, shock in her eyes. He put a slug between those eyes, and all her problems were solved. A lovely dark-haired woman of middle years picked up another child and started to run towards the back entrance. Herman moved forward, his torso rotating slightly and his arm adjusting. His finger pulled back on the trigger, the bullet plowed through the shoulder she carried the child on, and the woman went down, the child under her, both of them bleeding. An older man came out of the kitchen with a shotgun, and Herman plugged him several times just to be sure. He waited in the fresh stillness of sudden death for a moment, wanting to be certain it was over. The moment ended, and he made his exit, walking calmly out the door he had kicked in a few moments ago.

A few blocks away...

Filana's tough feet hit her opponent over and over, sending him quickly down to the broken concrete of the makeshift arena. There were two left now, one a woman. Filana knew to be more careful of the woman, because she was very personally aware that women didn't make it on the fight scene unless they were exceptionally good. The man came at her with surprising speed for his bulk, and she rolled backwards, striking out with her heels at his knees, shattering them. He wouldn't be walking again anytime soon. Normally she was not quite so brutal, but fights against multiple opponents required Filana to exercise her most effective and speedy techniques in the interest of winning. She rolled back to her feet quickly, but not quickly enough. The other woman knocked them out from under her with a hard elbow to the jaw. Filana just lay on the ground for a moment, and her opponent decided that she was finished, and turned to face the crowd with arms raised in a gesture of victory. Filana grinned as she moved very gradually, making sure not to create any sound that would alert the other woman. Bones crunched, and a body fell to the ground in front of Filana. She could expect a high payout for this fight.