RAVAGED CORSAGE TO SAVAGE CARNAGE: LETHAL LESSONS OF THE ROAD AVENGER
By Quillon42
Replacing that reddest of revved-ups would prove the most difficult task that the racer would undertake that evening.
He looked all about the wreckage, the viscera of so many vehicles strewn across the streets. One could not discern all the contours of the mechanical entrails lining the lanes at this late evening hour…but then, the varied innards of so many machines, from sedans to semis, were so inextricably enmeshed that it would probably be impossible to sort them out by day just the same.
Engorged with an infinitude of adrenalin was this daring driver as of now, he surveying the carnage onset by cars, the massacres occasioned by motorcycles, the pogroms perpetrated by so many punks upon the civilians of this hapless municipality.
This driver, whose actual handle was never divulged even to his silky soulmate, had always assumed the pseudonym of Rodel Rhoads as he barreled down these byways so bullied by the most murderous of motorists. It was only so many days, perhaps just a couple of weeks prior to tonight, that Rodel had been raring to shift gears from single to spouse, from bachelor to bridegroom. His Cindy was incandescent in the sunlight as they drove off in their carmine convertible, not long at all after the wedding ceremony wound down.
Some squeals of errant tires and a hardly-evaded head-on later and said scarlet steed had shunted itself sharply into a wayward ditch, the man thrown clear from the crash while the wife absorbed the utmost of the impact. Rodel found himself minutes later clutching in vain at cinders that were once a corsage.
From there went back to his own digs and tricked out his trans am so that it could brake on a ball bearing, turbo at the tiniest twitch, and ram a roustabout's ride infinitely harder than any swat team's siege engine ever could.
Then he toured tearingly through all the locales where he and his lady love had had certain checkpoints in their unwaveringly committed courtship. Leading it off was the beachside resort where he'd first encountered his fair flower of a frau, including the sands where he'd caught his virgin glimpse of the maiden, the docks from which the two shoved off and paddleboated together, the lifeguard cabin behind which the two shared their initial kiss.
Next there was the mountainside trails which they traversed on many hearty hikes. Though there were all kinds of earthen obstacles from pebbles to boulders all about, the pair managed to persist and make it hand in hand through pathways which then seemed more placid than perilous, given the depth of each lover's devotion to the other.
Following was an excursion to one of the closest cities to celebrate their three month anniversary. Rodel recalled the gridlock of car carriers, tractor trailers, and oil hustlers that slowed to a face-clenching crawl their jaunt into the business district…but then, spending that much more time in a tight space next to the dame of his dreams made the wait utterly worth it.
Then there were the back alleys of the retail stores that the two would frequent, all when Rhoads was spoiling Cindy with hats and shoes and blouses and shoes and jewelry and shoes, all of these purchases dependent upon her selection and his subsidization. She would thereafter tolerate his subsequent dumpster diving in the junkyards—"to spoil himself" he would explain—he gathering as much worthwhile scrap as he could from them to repaint and otherwise rework for that automobile for which he maintained such an affinity.
Sometimes the man would give in to more pedestrian outings as well here and there, as Rodel would allow his Cynthia to the mundane parks on the outskirts of one of the neighboring cities. She would even deign to suspend her diet some days, to feast on a tacky frankfurter with her lover. The latter in turn was not too wild about the gardens himself, as there were always too many people, too many loiterers and layabouts, not nearly enough dynamic souls in sight.
Really the man had much more respect for those who were trying to make something of all this land, the backhoes and bulldozers and all those brutal beasts of machines that mixed it up with the brush and blazed new paths through which, until only recently, he had dreamed of executing barrel rolls with his sadistic sporty sedan. Rodel wished that his own compatriots would have that kind of drive, which those hardworking grunts relished…and honestly it would take that fateful impact that he and Cindy suffered to make them all get into gear in a way that they never had before.
Even the damn sewers of this city held some quantum of sentimentality for Rodel. It was honestly a romp through one of those conduits that he had braved in order to recover an old pendant which had been handed down as an heirloom in Cindy's clan for centuries. She really wasn't that clumsy; rather, it was an abrupt turn in the hardy hot rod, the force of which chucked the choker out the window and into a grate. The babe's beau quickly made underground and fetched the thing out, not too worse for wear. Most interesting to Rhoads was how expansive the sewage tunnel network had been, as it looked to be able to accommodate an entire development of residents.
Of all the locales in the vicinity, possibly the most tender for Cindy had been that of the cornfields, as she grew up on one such crop churner herself as a child. Rodel knew this, and it was on a hearty hayride one crisp autumn afternoon that he had proposed to her, right there in the back of the odiferous old truck. The earthiness of the smell and just the milieu in general made for an easy sell for the miss; her man himself in turn felt as if he could secede most easily into this atmosphere of grit and grain that surrounded them both that day.
So in the end it was an illustrious time in the city's most upscale blocks one evening that the two of them tied the knot. After an extensive celebration which family and fellow partners in crime had attended, Cindy and Rodel made their way the next morning back toward the latter's home, to relax a mite before embarking on their honeymoon.
And then the indescribable, abominable incident had gone down.
From there it was all guardrails and precipices and plastique-permeated lifeguard cabins and projectile speedboats and fatal farm combines and hurtful hot dog stands and deadly hotel concierge stations and execrable urban exercise rooms and angry-grilled exhaust-pipe-boning black bully coupes, all of these hazards ramping up to a climax during which Rodel and a mauve-maned matriarch of the downtown-devouring outlaw gang faced off and suicidally kamikaze-crashed into one another, with the road-scarred groom apparently the only one to emerge from the simmering shambles.
Now Rodel glared out into the smoking ruins once again, he gazing from his vantage atop the white wagon he'd commandeered after his crimson courser had been taken out of play. The man looked to the wedding band he'd cherished and mused over these past several days. He palmed it hard, seeming almost to crush it within the grip of his racing glove.
Then, just as he hopped down, and looked out to the scrolling street ahead and away from the mire of mesh…
"Hey there, lover."
He had looked back again, relieved, but not surprised. Standing there amidst the smoke now was his wife, she who had sported tresses sometimes of chiffon but then other times of cerise, sometimes of amber but then other times of orchid. It really depended on the day and the mood, and whether she had to put on airs as ordinary civilian, as her husband would at times, or whether she needed to get down to business as co-leader of their cadre, an honor and a responsibility only otherwise shared by her spouse.
She threw down her automatic weapons and ran to him, the two embracing, then kissing hard.
In the end, both man and wife alike were rather adept at surviving the worst of vehicular impacts. This each of them proved during their "Just Married" drive the morning after their reception (even if the lady had borne a bit more of a brunt of that than she would have liked), as well as just now.
Regarding that earlier of the two collisions, these betrothed bosses learned from that incident of the most malicious and avaricious coup within their group, as well as the need to retaliate through a bit of a role play. The resulting romp through all of the abovementioned stages, the aforementioned milestones of the leaders' courtship, was all to teach their obedient, groveling gangbangers a lesson…never cross the chieftains ever again.
Rodel sincerely hoped it sank in with them now, as he linked with Cindy once more hand in hand to go and enjoy another brisk evening in the city.