The Knightewolfe brings you a little something as
a change of pace. I hope you enjoy my take on a
fanfic from the Gunsmith Cats world.
Disclaimer:Gunsmith Cats and its related characters belong to
Kenichi Sonoda. I only own the plot of this story.
Gunsmith Cats
Dancing with the 9-5-9
Chapter 1: A Very Special Delivery.
Setting: Two years after the end of the manga. Rally and Riff-Raff are around 23-25 years of age. 'The Roadbuster' Bean Bandit is about 30 years old. The main pairing is RallyxOC and Riff-RaffxBean. There are also hints of past RallyxBean, RallyxRiff-Raff, and Riff-RaffxOC. Hope you enjoy.
In a dimly lit garage, a well dressed young woman who had short platinum blonde hair with its one trademark green-streaked front bang sat in a comfortable chair staring at the low-slung sports car in front of her as she waited for a friend. With her hands clasping a warm cup of coffee, Riff-Raff the Snake Charmer wondered how in the hell she'd lucked out and received the call to transport the small locked chest that presently sat on her worktable.
"Usually, this kind of high-dollar transport would go to the Roadbuster since he is the best wheelman in Chicago. I guess it's just lucky that this client demanded that the best female courier be the one to deliver this package. I have no qualms about it, especially since she's paying a premium for a speedy delivery.", Riff-Raff thought as she sipped from her coffee and mentally budgeted the half million dollar payment she'd receive for a successful delivery.
With the $100,000 retainer fee, she had been paid upon accepting the client, Riff-Raff knew that she would be able to get the repairs to her beloved Shelby 427 AC Cobra finished to her exacting specifications. Her last run had nearly been a disaster with a plethora of hitmen trying to kill her and steal the package entrusted to her by her client. With fifty miles to go and her nitrous bottle empty, Riff and her Cobra had been subjected to an unrelenting onslaught of hot lead. With her skills, she'd evaded the majority of the gunfire until some sneaky bastard had cracked her engine block with what her friend and occasional driving rival, Rally Vincent, had determined was four bullets from an Accuracy International .338 Super Lapua bolt-action sniper rifle. Needless to say; though she'd made the delivery, her car had been put completely out of action. The damage had been so bad that paired with her fifty-thousand dollar retainer fee, her delivery fee had barely been able to cover the damage to the Cobra's body. Luckily, Riff-Raff's ex-boyfriend had given her the silver and green 1991 Ford Fox-body Mustang Cobra that presently sat in front of her (for a hundred bucks) even though she'd broken up with him because of the secrets he refused to trust her with. Grinning at her new car, Riff-Raff snickered to herself as she remembered that this Cobra was extremely far from stock!
Like most couriers (even though he only transported on a part-time basis), Riff-Raff's ex., Marcus had modified the car to do what he needed it to do; namely get him from Point A to Point B in the fastest time possible while not damaging whatever he was carrying. First thing Markus had done, was yank the 4.9 liter V8 and drop in a supercharged 5.4 liter/329 cubic inch, Ford Special Vehicle Team-massaged modular V8 engine putting down at least four hundred seventy-five horsepower to the rear wheels through the ubiquitous nine-inch Ford rear-end and a specially built limited slip differential connected to a custom carbon steel driveshaft. Markus had also tossed out the stock 5-speed manual transmission and replaced it with a cryo-treated and damn near bullet-proof six-speed he'd had worked on awhile back (Riff-Raff didn't know the exact details but he'd assured her that this transmission would withstand whatever abuse she threw at it).
In addition to the engine and transmission work, Riff-Raff's ex had installed a fully-independent front and rear coil over touring suspension that was one step below a full-on race setup, a Brembo big-brake upgrade that paired six piston calipers up front and four piston calipers in the rear with cross-drilled and slotted high-temperature rotors and disc brakes at both ends (sixteen inches up front, fifteen out back) tucked under eighteen inch wheels. Speaking of wheels, Riff-Raff gazed smugly at her smoke-grey powder-coated Kazera rims that were being gently hugged by the low profile Firestone Firehawk tires. What good is all that power without control, Riff-Raff often mused to her friends while relaxing at the local courier hangout spots? Especially since even after all the work he'd done to his Cobra, Markus still wasn't satisfied and proceeded to send the car off to the Mustang gurus over at Saleen to bring his car up to the level of perfection he demanded.
Recaro reclining racing seats finished in a smooth soft suede-like material, Simpson six-point racing harnesses, a discreet custom-built roll cage that blended into the passenger compartment and stiffened the body even further and was guaranteed to protect her in the event of an accident. The shifter boot and emergency brake handle boot were covered in the same material as was the armrest. On the dashboard, were custom gages that kept tabs on all the important engine functions (fuel, oil-temperature, water temperature, boost gauge, battery output) and gave her all the necessary information to kept her well-built engine running like clockwork. Even her engine control unit had been given a strict once-over by the Saleen Technicians (Riff-Raff highly suspected that one of the techs was a budding tuning mad scientist when she gotten her first look at the printed readouts.)
For entertainment purposes (there were times when a driver needed something else than the orchestra coming from her dual Borla mufflers and dual exhausts), there was a high-quality, top-shelf Pioneer sound system with a five disc CD player that blasted her favorite cool jazz tunes through the quartet of six by nine speakers in the rear passenger area. The music coming from those speakers combined with the music as it came from the tweeters and mid-ranges situated in the front made her car sound like Riff was front row at a concert.
Rounding out the overall aesthetic pleasure that was her Cobra, Riff-Riff approved of the subtle color-matched body kit (mild not wild. Riff hated having attention brought to her like some of the young couriers now presently entering the biz with their outrageous combat-style body kits, too large rear spoilers, eye-searing graphics, and overly loud exhausts) and the toned down Saleen stickers affixed to her car. But out of everything on her car, the things Riff-Raff loved the most were the two painted ghost images of the infamous Mustang Cobra logo in the same location where the emblems were usually placed at the Ford Mustang Cobra facility.
After all, Speed Angel Riff-Riff wasn't known as the 'Snake Charmer' for nothing!
Finishing her coffee, Riff-Raff got up and walked over to the counter deposited her mug in the all purpose steel sink built into the top of her counter. Glancing up and down the work bench, Riff could see the numerous parts she had somehow hoarded over the years from all night repair and tuning marathons on her AC. Her reminiscing was cut short as the burble of a highly tuned V8 made its arrival known as its driver pulled up in front of the door to her garage. Recognizing the sound as coming from a Boss 302, the twenty-five year old courier reached over the counter top and pressed the button that allowed the overhead door to silently glide into its storage position while she turned to face the new arrival.
The first things to enter her little garage were the always recognizable Ford headlights. No matter whatever car Ford made, Riff-Raff would always recognize Ford headlights. From the Mustang to the Crown Victorias' that often ruined her high-octane fun; the headlights were almost always the same. When her guests' vehicle was halfway into her garage, Riff-Raff saw that these particular headlights were attached to a familiar Ford Mustang Cobra II. Riff Raff knew, as her fiancée did, that even though the mark was covered up with paint; this particular Cobra wasn't a Cobra II. It was a King Cobra! And its driver knew how to make it perform.
As the King Cobra pulled further inside, Riff pressed the button again and the garage door silently reversed its course and closed with nary a sound. Hearing the quiet rumbling sound that had been apparent for the past few seconds go quiet, Riff Raff made her way in the direction of the parked car. Halfway there, she watched as the door opened and a slim leg extended from the car and placed a delicate foot attired in a low-heeled dress shoe on the stained concrete. A sudden bout of self-consciousness had her delicate hands nervously brushing off the non-existent lint from Riff-Raff's knee-length skirt.
Though she knew she was quite attractive with her own full-figured looks and voluptuous measurements, Riff-Raff almost always felt a sense of plainness when she stood next to the dusky-skinned woman now making her way in her direction, Compared to her own five foot six inch height, twenty-five year old Irene 'Rally' Vincent was a beauty non parallel. From that willowy petite five foot seven inch stature to the trim hundred and thirty pound frame, to those long trim legs that went on forever, Riff-Raff gazed enviously (and in some cases lustfully) at the woman in front of her.
"Well, I've never seen you in a skirt before, Riff? It looks good on you. You should try wearing them more often.", floated the lilting voice that she remembered.
"Bah, if it wasn't for this request by my client, I would've put on my usual leather jacket and pants. Dressing like this just for a delivery makes me feel uncomfortable. The five hundred grand I'm supposed to receive at the end makes it a bit more bearable though. Besides, my fiancée loves me dressing up like this every once in awhile.", teased Riff-Raff as she offered Rally a cup of coffee.
Sharp blue eyes caught the flicker of anger that flashed through those dark brown eyes when Riff-Raff mentioned her fiancée. It had been over a year since Riff and her fiancée had started dating and it seemed that Rally was still a bit miffed about it.
"At least she's calmed down since I announced my engagement four months ago. She was royally pissed off about that. I never want to see her that mad again. Although it does have its occasional…..benefits", mused Riff as she remembered the night she was sure she was gonna die at the hands of her pistol packing friend.
Rally shook her head at the offer of coffee and turned her attention to the vehicle sitting in its reserved spot in the four car garage. A nod of appreciation was her only comment as she took in the piece of machinery in front of her. Her skilled eyes picked out some of the enhancements and she commented on them.
"A carbon fiber hood with vent to get rid of excess heat; subtle power bulge in hood over the supercharger, high intensity discharge headlights with Xenon fog lights; front-mount intercooler with sprayer bar mounted low in the grill. Nice ride, Riff!", commented Rally as she saw the gleam in Riff's eyes.
As usual, the tattooed star under Riff's right eye caught Rally's attention and brought back a hazy memory of a night of slight intoxication at her house where Rally had given in to the urge to taste that slight blemish that enhanced Riff-Raff's enigmatic beauty and led to an awkward moment in the morning. Squelching the thought Rally asked Riff to pop the hood. When she did, the younger woman immediately spotted the addition that made the Snake Charmer such a damned hard driver to catch sometimes.
"Nitrous injection, I shoulda known! You had a nitrous system in your AC when we first met."
"Well what did you expect? If I hadn't had the Nitrous back then, there was no way I could've kept up to you in that borrowed Viper R/T10 and Bean's Boss 302. At least by the time of that interrupted muscle car rally, I had the engine rebuilt and had a new bottle in the trunk."
Rally nodded in agreement. She remembered that V8 rally as well. Sitting down in one of the cleaner chairs by the worktable, Rally relaxed.
"Back when you first told me about this car, you told me that you'd gotten in for a good price from an ex-boyfriend but you wouldn't tell me how much. You know that made me curious and I asked Becky to find out but she never found out anything. At least she didn't charge me since she couldn't find a thing on it. Whoever your ex-boyfriend was, either he's really good at keeping his mouth shut or he's miffed that he didn't ask for more. From what I can see, it looks like this car has over fifty thousand dollars of work put into it. Riff, ya gotta tell me, how much did you pay for this?", questioned Rally.
Riff-Raff smirked. She was gonna savor the look on Rally's face when she found out the price she paid for all eternity.
"Before I tell you what it cost me, you have to promise me you won't freak out."
Rally grumbled good-naturedly but gave her word and promised to not act a fool. Though she was expecting any number in the five to six digit ranges, Rally was not expecting what Riff-Raff told her. It took all of three seconds for her to respond to the number given.
"You're telling me that your ex-boyfriend sold you car that was worth at least seventy-thousand dollars easy with all of the modifications and work he's had done to it for a measly hundred bucks! What in the hell? Are you sure he's not on any drugs whatsoever? Is he bloody crazy? Are you sure he didn't sell you a lemon?", questioned Rally with a raised voice a dumbfounded look on her face.
"Vincent, I kid you not. I was just as shocked as you when I found out how much he wanted for it. Hell, after I got it, I took it to a mechanic on the other side of town to have him check it out. He said that the car was in better than new shape and offered me a hundred thousand on the spot for it. Of course I turned it down but I was in shock the whole rest of the day. Even Roadbuster was taken aback when he heard the price I paid and damn near broke his back looking under the hood to verify that my car was in such good shape.", replied Riff with a smile on her face.
Rally just shook her head in wonderment. 'The idiocy of some people' mused Rally as she checked her watch. Shifting subjects, the infamous former bounty hunter got up from her seat and went over to her car. Opening the door and reaching for a box sitting on the backseat, Rally extricated the box and brought it back to Riff-Raff. Riff nodded and led her over to the table where Rally put the box down and unlocked the latches holding the box closed. Opening the box and pulling out what had been locked within, Rally turned to Riff.
"Here you go; the custom work you requested is finished. It took me awhile but I knew you'd probably need it for this delivery. Especially after you mentioned what the cargo was. I do have to say, I was surprised when you told me you had it. Was a bit jealous as well but that's okay, I still prefer my original style CZ-75.", commented Rally as she stood back and observed as her friend looked into the box at what was situated within its foam lined contours.
Rally watched with her experienced eyes as Riff-Raff withdrew the weapon from the box, dropped the magazine, and locked the slide back to check the chamber. Seeing the approving nod, Rally watched as Riff correctly inserted the loaded magazine into the weapon and made the weapon ready for action by chambering a round and decocking the hammer before setting the safety. After topping off the magazine and filling the rest of the magazines with the ammo that Rally had brought, Riff opened her jacket and slipped the weapon into the vertical shoulder holster under her left arm. Securing the retention strap against the back of the pistol, Riff then slipped her two full magazines into the magazine holders under her right arm to balance out the secure weight of the weapon under her left.
"You, with your much worked upon original CZ-75, jealous of my Belgian-made Browning P35 High Power? I don't believe it! I do want to thank you for the work you did on it and for getting me back out to the range for retraining. It's been a long time since I've carried it. You wouldn't believe it but this Browning has been in my family for years. It belonged to my grandfather first. When my dad was entering his teens, granddad went to a gun show while looking for some cheap ammo for his 30-30. He found this gun on sale for about seventy-five dollars. It was banged up and had a beat to hell finish but he sent it out to be worked on. When he got it back, granddad carried this gun everywhere he went while he was working the family land. When my dad graduated from college and moved out, Granddad gave the gun to him to keep him safe. Dad kept this gun for the longest. When my parents moved to the west coast, dad left it with me.", replied Riff as she buttoned her coat and retrieved the chest she had been contracted out to deliver.
Rally followed Riff to her car before veering off and heading to the back of her King Cobra. Using her key and opening the trunk, the bounty hunter and gunsmith reached down and pulled out the locked case that carried both her 12 gauge pump-action shotgun with its pistol grip and her Heckler and Koch PSG-1 .308 caliber rifle. Closing and relocking her trunk as well as using the remote to lock her car and set its alarm system, Rally stepped over to the open passenger door of her friend's car and sliding into the comforting embrace of the seat. Once she was situated, Rally placed the case on the backseat before closing the door and securing her harness.
Seeing that her friend was secure out of the corner of her eye, Riff-Raff started the engine. Checking her gages to see if everything was alright, she disengaged the parking brake, shifted the transmission into first gear, eased off the clutch, and got her car moving with the barest of movements. Reaching up for the remote for her garage door and depressing the button to open the door, Riff turned on her headlights and slipped her refined beast out of the garage. Once outside and waiting in her driveway, Riff-Raff activated the door remote again and watched in her rearview mirror as the garage lights went out and the door slithered closed and secured her garage from passing eyes.
Once she was sure everything was secure, Riff placed her cell phone into the holder built into the dash and powered up her Bluetooth Wireless headset. Pressing one of the buttons to access the numbers programmed into her one-touch dialing list, Riff waited until she heard the familiar voice of her client.
"Good evening, it's me. I'm departing now. Your package is secure. See you in a few hours. I hope I do not have to emphasize how angry I will be if you do not have the agreed upon payment for delivery. Once I hang up, erase this number from your phone. Don't call me again. I'll call you when I'm within range of the drop off point, understand? Good. Good bye.:", pressing the disconnect button on her headset, Riff-Raff disconnected the call.
Forty minutes later, with the radio playing soft jazz music, Riff-Raff pulled off the highway into a late night gas station and restaurant frequented by transporters heading east on delivery runs. Finding a parking space at the front of the building, she backed in and shut off her engine. Leaving her shifter in neutral and engaging her parking brake after turning off the lights, Riff looked at her passenger.
"Let's stop here to grab a bite to eat before filling up the tank and heading out. I also want to get a cappuccino to go. Want one? Okay, my treat. Go grab us a table. If the waitress gets there before I do, go ahead and order what you want and order the same thing for me. I got to use the bathroom. Besides, lover boy said he might stop by on his way out on another run with The Buff.", stated Riff-Raff as she climbed out of the car and closed the door before activating the high-end alarm system.
Rally nodded and followed Riff inside. Readily apparent of the interested glances they were garnering, Riff pointed Rally in the direction of the restaurant before heading in the opposite direction to where the restrooms were situated. Finding a table by one of the windows, Rally brushed off numerous invitations by different men to come and join them. Shortly after she sat down, the waitress bustled over and took Rally's order for two grilled chicken sandwiches and two soft drinks. Riff-Raff showed up seconds after the waitress departed and positioned herself in the seat across from Rally. The two talked for a bit before their food arrived and they dug in. When she asked about Rally's usual partners, Riff found out that her twenty-two year old ex-partner May Hopkins-Takizawa decided to remain at home since her little boy was sick with a cold.
"Becky's doing some sort of search for somebody and she's hoarding whatever information she gets. I think Misty is out with one of her friends and plans to spend the night with said friend but I'm not sure and I'm not particularly worried about it. She's a good girl who's got a good head on her shoulders. What about you, everything alright in your life?"
"Yeah, Bean's doing fine. Still making runs and still abiding by his promise to you. So far Detective Percy's been too busy with other things to pursue his vendetta against Bean. From what I've been picking up on the courier information line, Percy's working a big case that nobody is talking about. Rumor has it that whatever it is, it has the big mafia bosses shitting their pants and hiring drivers left and right to make all sorts of deliveries. Hell, I think the District Attorney's office has hired me a few times, through an intermediary of course, to make a few low-key deliveries. They ain't tellin' and I ain't askin'. So it all balances out and follows the unwritten rules of the courier.", replied Riff as she took a sip from her drink.
For the next few minutes the two friends chatted about other meaningless things before their food arrived. Meanwhile, sitting outside in a dimly lit area of the parking lot with a line of sight to the table where the two women were dining sat a dark-colored machine of exotica. Sitting within the confines of this vehicle with its dark interior and tinted windows, the driver answered the satellite phone resting on his console.
"Hello. Oh, it's you. Everything is going fine so far. They left the city without anyone taking an undue notice in their car. Right now the courier and her protector are grabbing a bite to eat. They may also be waiting for Roadbuster to stop by. It's confirmed; he's on a run and should be returning tonight, probably within the next hour or so. Yeah, I know I have to be out there to cover the exchange but give me some credit dammit! I'm trying to remain low profile and my car ain't exactly low-profile. Why do you think I only use it on business for our organization, dumbass? Gee can't you think it over for a moment. My car wasn't originally allowed into the country back when it was first built. In 1999 when the government decided to let it in, I was lucky; in 04 dad snatched four of them up to go with the targa rally version he raced a few years previously. Unfortunately, in her infinite wisdom; my twin sister decided to have hers painted hot pink. Yeah, that's what everyone in the family said. I have one, my mom has one, my sister has one, and my dad has his old race car. Oh wait, I gotta go, Roadbuster is a couple miles up the road. I shit you not; he's got a big honkin' engine that you can hear from a long distance away. Especially with the way he drives. Fuck you too. It looks like an old Ford-Cosworth RS200 or something to me. Look, fer cryin' out loud, I'll be there. Tell the board that everything is under control. I'm hanging up now."
Pressing the button that disconnected his call, the anonymous driver folded his phones antennae down and stowed it before replacing the phone in his cup holder. Depressing the clutch of his car and pressing the start button, he brought the rear-mounted, sequentially twin-turbocharged, 2.8 liter horizontally opposed, six-cylinder engine to life and let it settle into a slow idle. Cracking his window just a bit, he dropped his smoldering cigarette outside and listened as it went out. Seeing a familiar red car with a distinctive hood badge roar into the parking lot, the anonymous driver checked his watch. He had several hours to go before he made it to his destination to carry out the request of his bosses. Shifting into first gear just as the six foot four inch frame of the infamous Roadbuster Bean Bandit and his trademark armored bandanna and heavily reinforced moose leather jacket climbed out of his car and headed inside while lighting a Camel cigarette, the unknown driver pulled out of the parking lot and made his way to where he could get on the freeway. Deciding to put his own exclamation on the night, the driver released his clutch and gunned the engine. As he did so, four low profile Pirelli tires scrabbled for traction as over five hundred stampeding stallions rampaged through the sophisticated all-wheel drive system. The wide rump of the rear-engined car squatted a bit before it lunged forward, propelling the driver to a speed that guaranteed jail-time if he was caught.
In a second, he was gone.
Back inside the restaurant Riff-Raff and Rally were finishing up their meals although Riff was doing so with an unladylike haste. Both had seen the familiar outline of Buff, the 500+ horsepower badass delivery car driven by the best courier in the business. At the sight of the familiar tall and rangy guy extricating himself from the beautiful machine (that had started to gather an appreciative crowd), both women felt the familiar pangs that Bean Bandit wrought in women. Recognizing the rising feeling coursing through her body, Rally had to almost physically squelch the desire rushing through her and redlining her senses like the 460 cubic inch, 375 horsepower V8 engine cradled in the engine bay of her beloved Shelby GT500 Cobra.
"I have to let him go. He's Riff-Raff's man now. They're getting married in a few months anyway. Will I always be the bridesmaid and never the bride? May is happily married to Ken and they have a son. Misty is seeing both a boy who accepts her for who she is and a girl who doesn't mind sharing. Even Becky, that mercenary, has been hinting at a secret lover that is keeping her bed warm at night. Makes me ask myself; where, where is the man destined to be mine? The man who accepts me for who I am and doesn't want to change me? Where… Is…My…Prince….Charming?", groaned Rally in her mind as she watched Bean pick up his fiancé and place a sensuous and lingering kiss on Riff-Raff's lips.
Rally had to admit it; Riff and Bean made the perfect couple: The Roadbuster and the Snake Charming Speed Angel; the modern day 'Bonnie and Clyde' of the transporter world. Bean Bandit: the undisputed King of the Road and Riff-Raff made the perfect queen to his king. Yet in the back of her mind, Rally had to remember the passionate nights that tender caresses, the smoky kisses that Bean had lavished on her willing body when they were together either at his place or at hers. Rally remembered the times when she purposely stayed late to close her gun shop so Bean could ravish her among the tools she loved the most. Cutting her thoughts short before they could drive her to a depression, Rally returned her attention to the loving couple across from her. Tuning in to the conversation, Rally caught the end as Riff-Raff slammed her glass down and glared at her fiancée. It seems that Bean didn't approve of Riff-Raff making this particular delivery.
"Oh stifle it you big meathead! You know the reason why my client wouldn't hire you to make the delivery. You're too damn good! If she'd hired you, the minute it became widespread knowledge that you were making the delivery, every damn cop and crook in the area would've been chasing you. Not too many people know that we're dating, much less are engaged to be married. Those that do are our closest friends and we know they can keep their mouths shut. Quit being a dammed big baby. Why do you think I asked Rally to accompany me on this trip? Not so we can gossip all the way there and back but because with her skills she may see something I may not. Now deal with it and gimme a kiss because we need to get back on schedule.", growled Riff as she got up from her seat and stood over her lover.
If she didn't know the both of them as well as she did, Rally would've laughed at the irony of the picture before her. A 5'6 inch Riff-Raff standing over her 6'4 inch fiancée and glaring him into an unrepentant submission with smoke from his cigarette floating between them. The tableau held for a minute or two before Riff-Raff leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Bean's lips. Stopping his protests with a finger to his lips, Rally watched as Riff winked at her future husband before twirling off with a spring in her step. Stifling her chuckles, Rally started to follow only to be brought up short when the firm hand of her one-time lover grasped her arm with a grip of steel. Looking down and seeing the worrying look in his eyes, Rally promised that she would do everything in her power to keep Riff-Raff safe before he could even formulate the words. When he let go, Rally turned and strode after Riff-Raff.
Catching up to her friend at the cash register where she was paying for their meals and purchasing a steaming hot cappuccino's for both of them as well as a box of those sinfully delightful blueberry cheese and strawberry cheese Danishes that both of them loved to nibble on by the boxful, Rally stuck her hands in the pocket of her Kevlar lined jacket.
"Let's go girlfriend. We got a long night ahead and miles to go before we can sleep. At least we each have a change of clothes for use after we make the delivery and get some rest before returning tomorrow night.", said Riff as she unlocked her car and carefully climbed back in and situated the hot drinks in her cup holder and placed the box of Danishes in her arm rest.
Rally agreed as she climbed into her seat and secured the harness before closing her door. Once the door was closed and Riff-Raff had restarted the engine, Rally settled in and started going over the tentative plan that was flitting around in her mind. Casting a look at the chest situated on the backseat, Rally settled in for the drive ahead.
It had been hours since their fuel, food, and restroom stop early in their trip. Once back out on the highway, Riff-Raff had managed to keep to speeds that wouldn't draw a second glance from the all-seeing radar guns of the highway patrol. With times when she could cruise at or above 120 miles per hour and not get caught by the State Troopers, they were at least an hour ahead of schedule. Checking her gages and seeing that her fuel was running a bit low Riff-Raff slowed down and pulled into the lane for the upcoming exit so both her and Rally could stretch and use the bathroom as the car filled up. Informing Rally of her plans, Riff downshifted and braked as the exit loomed. Slowing down to about forty miles an hour so she could take the turn, Riff spotted a gas station just a little bit up from the stoplight where the freeway exit ran into what looked to be a main street. Turning right at the bottom of the ramp, the Saleen Cobra cruised into the gas station with ease. Upon seeing that only one of the pumps was being used, Riff pulled up on the opposite side and shut off her engine. Climbing out of her car and stretching her arms, the young lady stepped to the back of her car and opened the fuel filler door and unlatched the gas cap. Inserting the hose into the tank, Riff headed for the door of the station. Going over to the pimply faced college student manning the register, she told the drooling young man to fill it up.
"Ma'am that is a real beautiful car you have there. Sounds like it runs like a champ!", commented the cashier.
"Thank you. It used to belong to my ex-boyfriend and he had a lot of work done to it. When my last car was wrecked, he sold me that car for a good price. I was grateful for it though because I really needed a car while my other one was being worked on.", replied Riff with a hint of pride in her voice.
"Your welcome ma'am, it was my pleasure to notice. You are the second person to stop here in a nice car tonight. And though your car is nice and exotic, there was a guy who stopped in about ten, fifteen minutes ago in one of the rarest Porsches I have ever seen. His Porsche is so rare that I thought I would only get to see it in magazines and on television! And being a Porsche aficionado, I consider myself lucky to have even gotten a glimpse of that car. I guess I'm gonna have to thank my boss for calling and asking me to fill in tonight even though I have a test in the morning. But the vision of loveliness that was that car will never leave me.", chirruped the young cashier.
Lifting an eyebrow in response to the man's gushing, Riff-Raff wondered what kind of Porsche he could be talking about. Though she usually preferred vehicles from the domestic Big Three for her personal purchase, Riff Raff loved following the occasional tarmac rallies she caught on the motor sports channel at home and often dreamed of herself participating in one with Bean one day after they were married. Riff also liked Porsches for their technological advances and respected the couriers who drove Porsches for the skills they had to master. Yet for the life of her, she thought that she knew every Porsche variant in existence. Curiosity started to get the better of her and Riff vowed to herself that once she finished her business in the lavatory, she was going to go see what had the young cashier so atwitter.
In the bathroom, Rally finished washing her hands and threw the paper towels she had used to dry them in the trash. Exiting the small yet clean and functional bathroom, she headed towards the front. As she passed by the magazine aisle, Rally saw a well-dressed gentleman standing there with his nose in a magazine. She couldn't see what the title of the periodical was but from his appreciative grunts and occasional grins, Rally guessed that it was car magazine. Approaching closer to the gentleman, Rally frowned as she was able to see that the magazine that had caught his attention was indeed a car magazine but it was a magazine directed at those who liked Porsche.
"Of all the… he likes Porsches! What's wrong with the men of the world lusting after Porsches instead of Mustangs, Camaros, Firebirds, or Vipers? He must be one of those trust fund babies who are tooling around in mummy and daddy's Porsche just for kicks. Crap, are there any real men left in the world today? And he's quite cute too.", griped Rally as she headed for the front door.
Stepping outside the gas station mini-mart, Rally headed in the direction of Riff's Cobra. With her head on a swivel looking out for any threats, Rally made her way to the menacing Ford machine lurking by the pump. She was almost there when she heard Riff-Raff's call. Turning towards the familiar voice, Rally waited.
"Hey Rally, you want to drive for a while? My legs are slightly stiff and I want to give my legs a bit of a rest.", called Riff.
"Yeah, I can drive for a bit. I know that you want to be well-rested for the delivery just in case things go wrong."
"Thanks Rally. I appreciate it!"
Rally strode around to the driver's side of the Cobra and stood there while the Cobra drank its fill of the elixir that brought its heart to life. When the pump-finished, Rally climbed into the driver's seat while Riff pulled the pump out of the gas tank, secured the gas cap, and closed the fuel filler door before replacing the hose on the pump without dropping a bit of gas on the ground or on her clothes. Waiting till Riff was inside and buckled; Rally started the vehicle and let it warm up. Shifting into first, Rally started to pull out only to stop when something wicked passed right in front of her at parking lot speeds. Rally was going to give it only a passing amount of attention and ignore it until Riff-Raff sat bolt upright in her seat and started gasping for air.
"Ho…ly…Shit! That's a 959! A gawddammed Porsche Nine-Five-Nine! I don't fucking believe it! One of the most technologically advanced Porsches of its day! Screw me sideways! I never thought I would get to see one of those in real life! Wow!", shouted Riff-Raff, much to Rally's distinct annoyance.
"What's so amazing about it, it's a Porsche. I see hundreds of them on the road every day! What's the big deal?", griped Rally as she pulled out behind the vehicle that had garnered Riff-Raff's attention.
Riff-Raff whipped her head around to face her friend with a look of amazement plastered across her features.
"You claim to be a car fanatic and you don't know what a Porsche 959 is? You idiot! From 1986 to 1989, the Porsche 959 was one of the most advanced cars in its class. Weighing in at a petite 3200 pounds and motivated by a rear-mounted, 2.85 liter horizontally opposed, sequentially twin-turbocharged six-cylinder engine that pumped out 444 horsepower going to a very trick all-wheel drive system that was very advanced for its day!", enthused Riff Raff from her position in the passenger seat.
Rally just sighed and rolled her eyes as her friend waxed philosophical.
And that my friends, ends the first chapter of my Gunsmith Cats Story 'Dancing with the 959'. I hope y'all enjoyed my take on the future adventures of the Gunsmith Cats Crew. Many special thanks goes F-14 Tomcat Lover for helping me slice and dice what would have been a 40+ page first chapter into something a bit more manageable for those readers not used to my proclivities in writing long (sometimes too long! My old fic 'Setsuna's Sun Prince' ended up with a 94 page chapter once) chapters for my stories.
The next-currently untitled-chapter is done but is undergoing its own version of F-14 Tomcat Lover's cut and slash to shorten its length. Expect it to be posted soon.
Now for some background information about the developing plot; when first started this story I had what I though was the entire GSC and GSC Burst mangas. However with the addition of GSC Burst Volumes 4 and 5 with their attendant additional information I realized that I had to rejigger my plot to conform to the new (to me) ending of the Gunsmith Cats storyline: i.e. Minnie May and Ken having a baby boy instead of a baby girl, Iron Goldie regaining her memories, and Misty staying with Goldie instead of living her own life.
With Goldie regaining her memories, I have to admit that I thought for sure this story was going to be stillborn and me stopping this story before it could really get moving. I was so concerned about that, that I immediately stopped working on this fic and tried to figure out a how to work it without screwing with the dedicated 'official' Gunsmith Cats' storyline too radically. In the end, I decided to tweak my plot enough to continue with my original plot as well as keep in line with the Gunsmith Cats manga storyline as it presently is.
To the readers, I guess you can consider this a semi-AU story. Though I have the plot worked out in my head, please remember as you read the chapters that it is slowly developing on the computer screen as well.
Once again, y'all may thank F-14 Tomcat Lover for helping me drastically shorten this chapter to its present length. If he hadn't helped, who knows how long this chapter could've ended up?. Thank you for reading.
KW
Knightewolfe's Lair
11-11.
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