First: Thanks for all the feedback, it helps to keep me motivated.
Second: Sorry for the lateness of this chapter. Too much damn homework.
Third: Disclaimer: This is fanfic, please don't sue.
BTW folks…no chicas here. Just your run-of-the-mill guy who likes TF&TF.
--
CHAPTER 2
Leon squinted at the downing sun. The purples and oranges of the sunset were ignored as he desperately tried to eye the two men bearing down on him. They were driving a Honda 2000, in pretty excellent shape by the sound of the engine. He cursed the sun for being there in his rear-view mirror, and himself for not waiting until dark to skip town. He would have easily been able to get his black Honda Civic out of La Paz relatively unnoticed. He squinted as he tried to see who it was that was behind him. They were getting closer, he'd allowed that much. The sun kept him from seeing who it was sitting in the car, and he swore loudly as searing pain ripped its way through his eyes into the back of his head.
He looked down at the passenger seat, now occupied by a .45 Colt. It looked as though it had been run over several times but had bullets and it looked like it could still fire. He hoped it would still fire, if he had to get into it. Who were those guys? He was pretty sure they were just after the car, this Civic was kitted very well. A flash of memory came back instantly of the whole crew working on the black civics. The long nights pretending to be as good a mechanic as the mad scientist…the fun they had just sitting and listening to the loud music. Days long gone, and they seemed too far away to even remember now. He frowned. The 2000 was almost on top of him now.
The passenger in the Honda 2000 leaned out of the window with practiced ease. He'd obviously done this before. His gun was already in-hand and seemed aimed at the rear tires of the civic. Leon took a deep breathe and gunned the engine, fearful his foot would drive the pedal through the floor. He squinted again as the sun bore down on him on the right hand side…and he leaned into the hard right turn.
He heard gunshots, but didn't pay attention to them much beyond the sound. The car didn't seem to be hit, and he was happy. It was obvious to him now that the two men didn't believe he was prepared for this. They were too busy thinking of the "easy score" to worry about an experienced driver. Some stupid American slumming in La Paz. He completed another right turn, now headed directly into the sunlight.
The stabbing pain of the setting sun stung like hot needles. The pain seemed to go down into his spine. But it would also be in the eyes of his pursuers, too, making it much more difficult to shoot out the tires. He floored the pedal again, and was up to 100 mph in no time…he smiled. Even now it exhilarated him, boiled his blood, and fired up his soul. Even when chased by two would-be killers he felt overwhelmed by the raw power of this…thing at his command. This beast had a mind of its own, especially at this speed, in these circumstances. He became it, as it became him, and he embraced the feel of the speed, the power of the engine, and the raw fiery power of the car.
He couldn't help but lean back in the seat, and put up arm to the rolled-down window.
* * *
The plane's in-flight movie was 1986's "Howard the Duck". Perhaps the cheesiest movie ever created, and worst of all: It didn't have any good cars in it. Brian leaned his head back in the seat and wondered why a 50-minute flight would bother having a movie. "You know," said the woman next to him. "I hate this fucking movie." Brian couldn't help but laugh, it was spontaneous and relieved him. He was feeling stressed at the "last chance" speech Special Agent Harden gave him not 2 hours ago. He turned his head to the left, away from the window, to look a the woman.
Just-past-the-shoulder dark hair, curly, coupled with the greenest eyes he'd ever seen. "Yeah." Was all he could find himself responding.
She smiled, huffing, "So far the movie's dialog was better than that."
He forced back a laugh, "Brian Spilner."
She didn't force it back this time, she laughed. "My name is Gina. So…Brian Spilner, that sounds like a serial killer's name."
Brian laughed, "Believe it or not, I've had this conversation before."
"Hopefully not in front of a judge or cop." She laughed, taking her headset off. Brian felt honored being more important than Howard the Duck. "I hate travelling alone on a plane, I much prefer my car. Why you going to La Paz."
To find my friends, arrest them & take them to jail, then go back to the FBI. If all goes well I wouldn't have had to be forced to kill anyone. How about you? Brian felt like letting it all out, but he just couldn't. "I'm looking up some old friends. You?"
"Vacation." She said matter-of-factly. She hesitated though, it was clear she knew he wanted to say more, but didn't have the strength in him. She seemed to accept it and move on, but she was more interested in him now. It seems, Brian thought, a little mystery goes a long way to get a woman's attention.
He leaned in close, "Do you like cars?"
Second: Sorry for the lateness of this chapter. Too much damn homework.
Third: Disclaimer: This is fanfic, please don't sue.
BTW folks…no chicas here. Just your run-of-the-mill guy who likes TF&TF.
--
CHAPTER 2
Leon squinted at the downing sun. The purples and oranges of the sunset were ignored as he desperately tried to eye the two men bearing down on him. They were driving a Honda 2000, in pretty excellent shape by the sound of the engine. He cursed the sun for being there in his rear-view mirror, and himself for not waiting until dark to skip town. He would have easily been able to get his black Honda Civic out of La Paz relatively unnoticed. He squinted as he tried to see who it was that was behind him. They were getting closer, he'd allowed that much. The sun kept him from seeing who it was sitting in the car, and he swore loudly as searing pain ripped its way through his eyes into the back of his head.
He looked down at the passenger seat, now occupied by a .45 Colt. It looked as though it had been run over several times but had bullets and it looked like it could still fire. He hoped it would still fire, if he had to get into it. Who were those guys? He was pretty sure they were just after the car, this Civic was kitted very well. A flash of memory came back instantly of the whole crew working on the black civics. The long nights pretending to be as good a mechanic as the mad scientist…the fun they had just sitting and listening to the loud music. Days long gone, and they seemed too far away to even remember now. He frowned. The 2000 was almost on top of him now.
The passenger in the Honda 2000 leaned out of the window with practiced ease. He'd obviously done this before. His gun was already in-hand and seemed aimed at the rear tires of the civic. Leon took a deep breathe and gunned the engine, fearful his foot would drive the pedal through the floor. He squinted again as the sun bore down on him on the right hand side…and he leaned into the hard right turn.
He heard gunshots, but didn't pay attention to them much beyond the sound. The car didn't seem to be hit, and he was happy. It was obvious to him now that the two men didn't believe he was prepared for this. They were too busy thinking of the "easy score" to worry about an experienced driver. Some stupid American slumming in La Paz. He completed another right turn, now headed directly into the sunlight.
The stabbing pain of the setting sun stung like hot needles. The pain seemed to go down into his spine. But it would also be in the eyes of his pursuers, too, making it much more difficult to shoot out the tires. He floored the pedal again, and was up to 100 mph in no time…he smiled. Even now it exhilarated him, boiled his blood, and fired up his soul. Even when chased by two would-be killers he felt overwhelmed by the raw power of this…thing at his command. This beast had a mind of its own, especially at this speed, in these circumstances. He became it, as it became him, and he embraced the feel of the speed, the power of the engine, and the raw fiery power of the car.
He couldn't help but lean back in the seat, and put up arm to the rolled-down window.
* * *
The plane's in-flight movie was 1986's "Howard the Duck". Perhaps the cheesiest movie ever created, and worst of all: It didn't have any good cars in it. Brian leaned his head back in the seat and wondered why a 50-minute flight would bother having a movie. "You know," said the woman next to him. "I hate this fucking movie." Brian couldn't help but laugh, it was spontaneous and relieved him. He was feeling stressed at the "last chance" speech Special Agent Harden gave him not 2 hours ago. He turned his head to the left, away from the window, to look a the woman.
Just-past-the-shoulder dark hair, curly, coupled with the greenest eyes he'd ever seen. "Yeah." Was all he could find himself responding.
She smiled, huffing, "So far the movie's dialog was better than that."
He forced back a laugh, "Brian Spilner."
She didn't force it back this time, she laughed. "My name is Gina. So…Brian Spilner, that sounds like a serial killer's name."
Brian laughed, "Believe it or not, I've had this conversation before."
"Hopefully not in front of a judge or cop." She laughed, taking her headset off. Brian felt honored being more important than Howard the Duck. "I hate travelling alone on a plane, I much prefer my car. Why you going to La Paz."
To find my friends, arrest them & take them to jail, then go back to the FBI. If all goes well I wouldn't have had to be forced to kill anyone. How about you? Brian felt like letting it all out, but he just couldn't. "I'm looking up some old friends. You?"
"Vacation." She said matter-of-factly. She hesitated though, it was clear she knew he wanted to say more, but didn't have the strength in him. She seemed to accept it and move on, but she was more interested in him now. It seems, Brian thought, a little mystery goes a long way to get a woman's attention.
He leaned in close, "Do you like cars?"