Aztec - Chevy Stepside Truck
Sprint - Dodge Dart
Crooked Toes is a RDR reference
For that next week, Brad didn't have any jobs but as he was prepping his Dukes for a race-night out of the 369, he got a call from Jay.
"Brad we got an issue" Jay said tensely
"What's going on?" Brad replied not picking up on the tone yet
"Have you heard about Chimaera?"
"No what about him?"
"He's sold us out to some anti-streetracing taskforce of the KPD, we're fucked man. Fucked"
"Easy Jay, where is he?"
"He's currently in western Kennedy at his shop on Hoosier Avenue" Jay said dejected
"Do you want me to deal with him?" Brad ventured
"How?"
"Oh you know, I could check his brakes" Brad said off-handedly but his meaning was clear as day, if you were a street-race nut, you knew what it meant.
"Do it" Jay said shortly with a touch of laconicness to his speech
Brad closed the hood of his car making sure that he massive bug=catcher triple carburettor intake was clipped by the hood before gunning the car westwards. Western Kennedy was a dustbowl, nothing there could stay dust-free and the heat from the midday sun always seemed oppressive. There was none of the green fertility that had marked Eastern Kennedy in Western Kennedy, just dusty, hazy heat. Brad found himself thundering down I-24 out of the city towards the surrounding suburban areas of Kennedy, he was specifically heading towards Crooked Toes which was the first town along the interstate some 20 miles out of town. Brad just gunned the throttle and allowed the car to do its thing.
He soon found himself in the town of Crooked Toes which wasn't exactly small-town America, it seemed to be teeming with the oil industry that came with Texas as a whole. However as the oil-wells dried up so did the business leaving the area with many disused factories and warehouses which had now been repurposed for building cars or stocking electrical goods. Brad went past one factory and saw gangs of men standing outside of it marking their territory, it was obviously a packing mill and judging by the Hispanic nature of the men, it was Narco-90.
However, Chimaera's workshop was not in the industrial area, his workshop was at his house at the end of his land. Brad arrived there and looked the place over, it looked to be a standard three bedroom house. There was a garage with a hinged white door at the front of the property which presumably contained his daily driver which was apparently a tuned Aztec step-side truck from the fifties but he realised that Chimaera would be out back preparing his car for a showdown with Mohawk Jeff for the number six spot. Brad himself was only number eight after a few months. Brad got out of the car and walked around to the garden door which felt wooden and sturdy, Brad jumped and hooked a leg over before climbing over the door. He noticed the hedges surrounding the property making the house seem very illicit and secretive as if it was home to a weed operation. Brad preceded down the garden path with his body tilted forward and his steps light as he reached his shop. It was a large wooden barn which he could see had been reinforced with metal panelling before being coated with some all-weather paint.
Brad walked up to the door before pushing it open just an inch so he could peek into the gap the door created. He saw Chimaera bent over his Bravado Sprint which in itself was a nice car, it had a plum purple pearl paintjob and from what he could see a 632 cubic inch Bravado Banshee motor that had nitrous on it. He almost whistled at the sweetness of the set-up. Brad walked up calmly with an air of confidence but as soon as he was three steps away from Chimaera, he turned around and nearly jumped out of his own skin. From what he had heard about Chimaera he was one bad dude, he had beat his wife and was arrested after they found her with a broken nose and multiple contusions. He then charmed the jury by changing his entire persona and got off the charges, he himself began to refer to himself as a Chimaera and Brad supposed the name stuck.
"What are you doing here man?" Chimaera asked with a slight quiver in his voice
Brad decided to waste no time with the small-talk to setup his threats. "Listen you fucker, why in the hell did you rat us out to the cops. Seriously bro we don't turn on each other". Brad had him by throat in the air.
Chimaera just laughed "You really think that we were going to stay unnoticed Brad? Really? The police can't catch the top guys so they come after us. Once they offered me a good deal, I thought why not? It will get me out of this mess"
"You are pussy, not even willing to stand by your friends" Brad responded
"No, I am a Chimaera, I adapt and change"
Brad raised his gun and shot Chimaera within the eyes. He left the house quickly and a few blocks away told Jay of the news.
