Emile always wanted to be in a death race. He never knew why, but anything with "death" or "race" in the name had to be good. Put the two together and you got yourself a whole bunch of gory fun.
His skin itched with impatience as they trudged up to the grimy garage. A lone street light flickered feebly on the corner, doing little to battle the mass of shadow cast by the city buildings, towering darkly overhead.
They had come to this shady corner for one reason only. They needed a car. Good thing Emile had always anticipated this moment, for he knew of just the thing they were looking for.
Six didn't even blink as her boot disappeared down a brown snow-sludged pothole. The tugging frown on her face told her companions that she already thought the situation couldn't worse.
"So," Jorge tried to make conversation, "what's this about your source hooking us up with a car?" He asked, surprised the spartan even had anything close to sources.
"Something I've been looking at. An original model from earth that some now dead rebels used. Part military warthog, the other part they raided from a museum. Took forever for the UNSC to confiscate it. Now its ours." he grabbed the edge of the rusted garage door and heaved. Locks snapped and broke as it flung up, metal clattering. The three spartans stepped inside.
Jorge found the switch box-of-the-future and flicked it on, illuminating the vehicle before them. There, shining in the gloomy light, was their race car.
"Oh god..." Six recoiled.
"What museum did they steal this from?" Jorge wanted to pee his pants in sheer disgust.
'I give you..." The unfazed Emile strode confidently over and kicked one of the tires.
"...HITLER'S DEATH CAR!"
Silence. Echoes of the city's night life filtered in through the open door. Pulsing, distant. They stared at the horror the skull-faced spartan had dug up. Finally, someone had to say something.
"Wait. Who's Hilter?" Six asked.
Jorge facepalmed, "Whoever used to own this." He replied. Motioning towards it.
Warthog tires suspended a long coffin shaped body, black as the void. The faded swastikas of the Third Reich plastered across the doors. The roof was gone, showing off the ivory seats in the interior, stained with the blood of someone long forgotten.
"I like it." Emile stated, arms crossed.
Six sighed. The rebels only gave them an hour to find a vehicle. "We'll have to make use of this, then." She walked over, hands sliding across door handle. " I'll drive."
Emile opened his mouth to spring out a lady driver joke, but she rounded on him. "I'm the best pilot Noble Team has."
"Is that why we crash so much?' He snickered. She wasn't so amused. Instead, she slipped into the driver's seat. "Jorge, will you come with me as my co-pilot?"
" To the end of Reach." He smiled gently and slid in next to her. Emile wanted to rip off one of the tires and beat him to death with it.
The spartan jumped over the side, landing in the back seat begrudgingly. 'This ride's slick. How about we just leave?"
His words were met with an icy glare. "-and abandon the last memory of our Commander?" She asked.
"He deserves more than that." Jorge agreed.
Suck up. The angry thought passed through Emile's head as they drove out of the garage, heading towards the outskirts. There, their spartan metal (and six's womanly driving skills) would be put to the test.
They met the rebels underneath the skeletal frames of a construction site, sitting alone out in the suburbs.
Men sporting the usual stolen/make shift armor of rebels clustered around the spartan trio and their car, eyeing the competition. Six, Jorge, and Emile faced them readily.
" Not the most tasteful name for a car..." The lead rebel, a burly man decorated with scars that liked to go by the name Binky, scratched his manly beard, " Typical of spartans. I like it." He motioned over to where a nervous Jun sat on the curb, trying to stay as far away from Carter's smelly body as possible. "Here the rules. Its simple. You win, you get to keep the stiff and the bald lady. You lose, we kill you and pose your corpses into hilariously perverted poses and set them up in my lawn, kapeesh?"
"Hm, I'd like to see you try." Emile flexed. "You looking for a chance to get yourself killed, you found the right spartan."
"We'll see about that." Binky grinned and slid into his car.
"Jun and Carter's ghosty are depending on us." Jorge encouraged as they slid into their own vehicle. Six grabbed the wheel as the large spartan slid in beside her. Emile irritatedly took the back seat.
"I think Jun can take care of himself." the blonde gripped the wheel, her steely eyes focusing on the road ahead of them.
"So sure about that?" Emile snickered at the sight of Jun trying to put hand santizer on some of the rebels.
The crowd parted, letting something that was supposed to resemble a woman saunter out onto the make-shift track, heels clicking. The woman...man...thing hitched up its hot pants and daintily held up a checkered flag, allowing a full view of the hairy forest emerging from a rugged arm pit.
"No wonder they wanted Jun so bad. He's the closest thing resembling a real woman they have." Six cringed, feeling the body order of the flag bearer sear off her eye brow hair.
"Poor blokes." Jorge tsk'd.
"Ready.' A gnarled voice slid out from between chapped lips. "GO!" The flag dropped, wheels spun, and asphalt burned.
Six hit the pedal, fighting to get ahead of Binky's car. The first stretch of the race was pretty straight, but after they got out of the construction sight it curved around. They would have to make a loop of the sight then come back around, and make sure they were in first place or they were screwed.
"Jorge, keep an eye on that rebel." Six commanded, her voice barely audible above the roar of the Death Car's massive engine. "Emile, see if you can find anything useful underneath those seats!"
Gravel flew out from underneath their tires as they flew past bare metal beams, going neck and neck. Up ahead lay open space, and a sharp turn on the road. The female spartan let her foot loose pressure on the gas, cutting off on some of the speed in preparation for the sharp turn. That's when Binky went into action.
Jorge could see the rebel give a throaty laugh as he pulled out a needler.
"Bloody hell! Where on earth did he get THAT?" He exclaimed as pink death rained into their doors. Six swerved, pulling them away from danger. The tires skidded and lost traction, she fought to keep from sliding out. Binky drove on ahead, quickly gaining distance.
"I thought he said no weapons allowed. Bloody rebel!" Six was getting a little angry now. "Emile, have you found anything?"
"Some empty cartridges and a dead squirrel." He held up the rotting corpse.
"Give it to me." She grabbed the pile of fur and chucked it at the rebel. It flew through his window, splattering onto his face. A very un-manly scream emanated over the sound of the racing cars.
The blonde threw back her head and laughed, and somewhere underneath that helmet Emile might of (almost) grinned a little, too, at the sight of her. This here was some spartan. Maybe she wasn't so bland and boring after all...okay she still was, but who cares. She was HOT.
They raced along the edge of the construction sight, Binky in the lead despite the dead squirrel matter now sticking to his face. Spectators, rebels come to support their gang and a few shifty citizens drawn to the violent fun, lined the sides, cheering.
"Um, I think we're losing." Jorge noted. They only had one more turn to go.
"Then lets change that. Hang on.' They hit the corner. She quickly jerked the wheel and floored it, plowing through the crowd and easily cutting the corner, getting ahead of Binky.
There was a large bump, jarring them from their seats.
"I think we hit someone!" Jorge cried.
"Was it a rebel?' Six spun the wheel straight.
Emile looked behind them at the crumpled, bloody, and slightly flattened body of the civilian lying in their wake. His pain-wracked screams filling night. "Close enough."
Now they were back amongst the half-built buildings, tearing down the road to the finish line. Hilter's Death Car was barely holding the lead. Only a few seconds more and they would be across the line.
"We're going to make it. We're going to win!" Jorge fist-pumped excited. Even Six let out an adrenalin filled grin as she floored it, flames spouting from the engine as it gave one final burst of power.
Jun could also sense their oncoming victory. He jumped up excitedly, waving a sanitation wipe like a miniature flag. "MY HEROES!' He cried out. "Oops!" The wipe flew from his hands, directly into his comrade's path as they drove by.
"My eyes! It burns! " Six cried out as the wipe hit her squarely in the face. Unable to see, she finally lost control, sending them plowing through the crowd (again) and into a pole.
Binky's guttural laugh sailed past them as he drove over the finish line. The winner of the race.
Six groaned and tried to untangle her head from the steering wheel. Jorge looked like he was about to cry. From the back seat a skull-faced spartan emerged.
"We lost to a man...named BINKY." They could hear the venom in his voice. "Damn you JUN!" He roared at the bald spartan, who only whimpered and clutched Carter's body.
Binky skipped over, the she-man-thing clinging to his arm. "Too bad, looks like you wankers lost. Time to get dead."
"You cheated!" Jorge rose to his full height. Many rebels stepped back in fear, but their leader held his ground. Being the winner, he must of thought he was invincible. Too bad he was wrong.
"Oh yeah?' He stuck his nose up in the air, "and wot are you gonna do about it?"
"This." Emile slid out his shotgun and shot him squarely in the face. Brain mattered splatted across Six, a chunk of skull hitting her in the shoulder. A shocked silence ensued.
"Emile!"
'What?" He replied innocently.
She stared at him intently. "Why didn't you shoot him in the face at the grave yard?"
"-but I wanted to be in a death race!" He whined.
"Not to interrupt, but can we go now?" Jorge asked, dragging Jun and their dead Commander into the car.
"Screw this, lets get out of here." Emile jumped in after them as Six took the wheel and hit the reverse. This sent the rebels out of their shock, now they rushed the vehicle.
Despite the damage, Hitler's Death Car was a pretty sturdy vehicle. The hood was majorly dented, but they were still able to pull it off the pull and gun it for freedom.
They sped out of the construction sight, rebel cars hot on their heels.
"We'll lose them in the city." Six pointed to the soaring buildings overhead. The passed the suburbs, taking a newer road. The engine fighting to keep alive.
"Hang in there..." Six whispered, and looked ahead. Apparently the new road wasn't quite finished. A bridge into the city lay before them. Well, only half a bridge.
"Turn back. Can we find another route?" Jorge shouted nervously.
Six and Emile looked at each other.
"We can make it." The blonde pressed the pedal to the floor, watch the mph increase. They broke through the warning sign, splinters lodging into their windshield.
"We are all gonna die like Carter!" Jun sobbed and clutched the dead body, who looked strangly peaceful and at rest amongst the action.
We can make it!"
"Six." Emile spoke, he could see the gaping hole of the ravine below them. It looked pretty far down... "Maybe we shouldn't go this way."
"WE CAN MAKE IT!" The Death Car flew off the unfinished bridge, wheels spinning in mid-air.
Only then did she decide to judge the distance. "Okay, maybe we can't make it."
"Damn you woman drivers!"
SMASH! The car almost made it. Almost. It plowed into the edge, glass breaking and metal bending. It stuck for a moment, then fell into the darkness, the screaming spartans falling with it.
TO
BE
CON-
TINUED!
Whoe, there we go. I must sincerely apologize for the UBER EXTREME LATENESS of this chapter. To make it up there are going to be a heck of a lot more chapters being released. Possibly one on Sunday, if I can find the time. These last few weeks have been very busy. A CRAPLOAD Of tests, which all suck. Yah know. Anywho, thanks for your patience. I hoped you enjoyed this chapter.
NEXT EPISODE: pirated ideas are used, creepiness ensues, famous enemies make an appearance, and PANTIES!