Live Fast – Chapter One
So this is a new story I've started, Reading Racey's fic 'Dirty' (go read it it's awesome!) gave me a few ideas and this was born from that. Although as yet I don't think this will be a GrimmIchi fic, as for pairings the only one that's sure at the moment is IchiRuki, but things might change .
The setting sun landed mini supernovas on the heavily tinted windows of a black corvette as it rolled into the large deserted car park. Bass bled from the interior, slow and deep and loudest at the boot. It came to a smooth halt on the dusty asphalt, the engine was cut but the music still played. Red flowing lines ran down one side of the car, originating from the same point near the front wheel arch but spreading out and widening as they approached the back of the car. The driver's door opened, stopping short of the white Audi TT parked next to it, allowing a tall man to get out of the vehicle. His spiky hair was an obnoxious shade of orange, strands angled in all directions. Light rimmed ray bans were perched on his angular nose, obscuring the eyes behind them with dark, retro style lenses, the white frames were coloured slightly by the deep orange sunlight.
A petite, dark haired woman walked up to him, holding a gently perspiring bottle of beer out, a familiar smile crossing her lips. Her summery dress fell about her thin knees, the full circle skirt moving slowly as she did. Large, dark eyes looked up at him, the smile hitting and brightening them. He slid the ray bans from his eyes, revealing honey irises sat under a permanent frown.
"Cheers Rukia" he leaned down to press his lips to hers, taking the cold bottle from her hand as he did so. The low bass of Lil Wayne's Lollipop eased from the large pair of subwoofers he had fitted into the boot of his Chevy the weekend before. He let the kiss deepen slightly, sliding his tongue across her soft lips, the artificial sweet of cherry lip balm hitting his taste buds.
"Can't you two get a fuckin' room or somethin'?" words spoken through an unmistakeable grin caught the attention of the couple. "Surely a room ain't outta yer price range Ichi?" mischievous eyes shone from under a straight cut blonde fringe, the rest ended at his shoulders in a neat bob. Ichigo could tell from the blonde's pupils that he was already faded, his eyelids were resting slightly lower than normal, blissfully relaxed.
"Very funny Shinji!" Ichigo took a long sip from the brown beer bottle, enjoying the cold semi-sting as the liquid moved down his throat.
"Ya racin' later?" Shinji spoke as Ichigo drank, holding a shot of something clear in his hand himself. Long, almost bony looking fingers curled around the small glass, nails immaculate and clean underneath. A heavy chain rested around the blonde's neck, the silver glinting in the fading sunlight, on it sat a small mask cast in the same metal, the odd elongated shape reminiscent of Mayan culture.
"'Course. You?" Ichigo gestured to Shinji's gold Maserati GranTurismo parked across the lot, the sun striking a bright glare off of the bonnet. Purple brake callipers and double purple stripes ran over the top of the car, setting the gold off to perfection. The vehicle was certainly recognisable and unforgettable.
"Nah, not this time, just had her re-painted from the last race" Shinji spoke quickly before downing the liquid in his glass, both of them silently thought back to the crash that had prematurely ended the last meet.
The blonde's eyes locked on to another car rolling into the lot, following it slowly as it drove towards them, knowing who it was before he could even see through the tinted windscreen. A bright red Ferrari moved in next to the Corvette, Hollywood Undead's Gangsta Sexy blasting loud from the open windows. A tall male with red hair to match the Ferrari rose from the vehicle after cutting the engine and music; intricate tribal tattoos ran over his eyebrows and up towards his hairline, where they coiled into two shaved triangles above his temples.
"Haven't missed the party have I?" he looked first to Ichigo and Rukia and then Shinji, guiding the door of the car back into its frame slowly behind him.
"Course not Renji" Ichigo answered him slowly, trying his best to sound sarcastic and bored "Ya ask that every time"
"Gangsta Sexy? Ya takin' the piss Ren?" Shinji looked at the redhead incredulously, taking the conversation back in time slightly.
"Nah, don't get yer panties in a twist Shin!" Renji locked the car before stowing the keys in his pocket. He scanned the lot thoughtfully, looking at each of the cars parked in two rows on the dusty surface "I see our lord and master ain't here yet"
"Nah, he'll make us wait here a while, bastard. He waits until the guys with the decent purple turn up, ya know how much he loves that stuff" Shinji spoke in a monotone, eyes wandering lazily around the lot as he did so. "Speakin' of which..."
Two more cars were rolling into the lot, the loud bass from their speakers just an indistinguishable pulse in the distance. A black Subaru Impreza pulled in beside the Ferrari, a brilliant white Masarati GranCabrio drawing up beside it at the same time. The only black on the Maserati was the tinted windows; even the rims and brake callipers were a pristine white.
"Hichi!" Ichigo started towards the tall, lean man rising from the white car before he even closed the door of the car.
"'sup King!" the man had brilliant white hair, stuck up in all directions in almost a mirror image of the orange hair styles in an unruly set of spikes on Ichigo's head. The white haired man had more curious features than his hair colour, his skin was almost a shade of white to match and a rare genetic condition had left what would be the whites of his eyes as a pitch black, honey yellow irises striking against the dark background. He pulled Ichigo into a one armed hug, pale fingers splaying out onto the back of the orange haired man's grey hoodie.
The other car was exited by a man who had his hair shaved close to his head and strange red markings tattooed under, and flicking away from, his eyes. Ikkaku looked over at Hichigo and Ichigo, rolling his eyes "Yer both a pair a' chicks ya know?" he slammed the door of the Impreza and locked it up before wandering off into the other row of cars opposite.
A loud trilling began from Shinji's pocket as the two pulled apart. The blonde took out his phone, tapping the large screen once before holding the device to his ear. Ichigo watched after him as he walked away to talk, the faint bulk of the 9mm tucked into the back of his pale jeans could be seen under his crisp white shirt. Ichigo drew his cinnamon eyes away from the blonde and looked back to Hichigo. The man was lighting a joint, strange eyes trained on the white roll up between his lips, well trained thumbs flicking the lighter to life in one try, shielding the flame from the breeze until it had caught. The strong, distinct smell of high grade marijuana hit Ichigo's nose, tempting him.
"Fuck Hichi, do ya have ta be a tease wit' that?" Ichigo looked to him, huffing air from his lungs in frustration.
"I guess yer gonna race tonigh' then" Hichigo gestured to the clean Corvette that Ichigo prized above everything else he owned.
"Definately, Zaraki asked for me here personally, I couldn't refuse. And I certainly can't get fucked up yet" Ichigo looked back at his car to try and distract himself from the tempting smell, music was still oozing from the speakers he had fitted. Rukia leaned casually against the bonnet, a joint perched between her lips and a drink in her hand. He stared at her for a moment; her petite frame was subtly complimented by the loose fitting dress. He turned back to Hichi to find the yellow irises trained on him.
The strange eyes of his friend always unnerved him; the attitude of the man also unnerved him, the steely composure which allowed him to reel off several shots without even noticing the kick back or the fresh blood was slightly scary. In fact the man possibly even enjoyed it; it was so hard to tell when his inane grin never left his features; although that could just be the effect of the ridiculous amounts of weed the guy smoked.
His staring was interrupted by the loud roar of an engine, unpolluted by pounding bass. A shiny black Pontiac Trans Am roared into the lot, skidding to a stop in between the two rows of cars that had formed. The dust it had kicked up settled down as the door opened, allowing a tall, bulky man to step out of the muscle car. His raven black hair was spiked up in long tips around his head; a small bell akin to those affixed to cat collars adorned the top of each spike. Pale scar tissue ran down the left side of his face, the skin long since healed, but slightly whiter than the rest. A square eye patch covered his other eye, the sides of it edged with a gold strip. His face was angular, long nose straight and jaw sharp. The man was built like a vehicle of war, a broad chest and long muscular legs made him look like a man you would not mess with.
All eyes were trained on the imposing man, he looked back out at them, a wide grin revealing sharp canines "Tha fuck y'all lookin at? Got a race to run ain't we?"
Large hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as a Lamborghini powered through the deserted streets. Basshunter's Russia Privjet rattled through the sound system, adding to the vibrations from the roaring engine, the rapid techno beat was not what the man's normal music taste consisted of, but he had taken to this song in particular. The sky blue paint of the Aventador caught and re-coloured the rapidly fading light of the setting sun; the orange orb was now half consumed by the horizon.
The muzzle of the 9mm Glock hooked under the waistband of his jeans dug uncomfortably into his hips. He growled low in his throat at the discomfort and shifted in his seat to try and ease it, keeping his foot heavy on the throttle as he moved. Vibrations from the engine shivered up his back and made his shoulders tingle; this was one of the reasons Grimmjow loved this car. At this moment he realised he had not smoked or drunk anything that evening, the adrenaline and excitement of what they were heading to do was enough of a high, he didn't need to get faded.
A glance through the small back window via the rear view mirror gave a quick image of the cars following him at the same reckless speed. An emerald green Sesto Elemento followed the closest behind him, the large, clear windscreen giving a view of its owner. The slight, yet immensely strong, man behind the wheel had irises to match his paint job and strange teal tattoos trailing from the middle of his bottom eyelid to his chin. Grimmjow still had no idea where the man had found the money for such a car, it made his Aventador look like a cheap hatchback. He supposed the stoic, raven haired man had a rich family, or he had carried out a pretty big hit. He was the boss' right hand after all.
Behind the Lamborghini was a pitch black Mustang, the silver horse on the grill just a point of brilliant reflection in the setting sunlight. Tinted windows and the car in front obscured the view of the driver, but Grimmjow knew the lanky man inside would be wearing that creepy grin of his; eyes alight with something other than the thrill of a drug, for once.
Grimmjow swung a sharp left, letting the back of the sports car kick out a bit on the way round. He glanced back to see the others do the same, the Sesto handling the corner much better than the sliding Mustang. The faint glow of lithium headlights could be seen in the distance ahead, they were nearly there. His body emptied more adrenaline into his blood; the hormone must have been the main component of the crimson liquid by now.
A tingling that wasn't the bass or the engine flowed down his arms, making him flex his fingers around the steering wheel and ease his back muscles into a stretch, slow and steady like a panther ready to pounce. He slammed his foot down into the throttle more, feeling the kick of the engine as the valves into it opened fully and it worked towards its full speed.
So there's the first chapter, it's really kinda a pilot so let me know what you think of it, would be good to get your opinions on it ^^ so reviews please .
