Alright, back again.

Zenna: Glad to hear you felt better, though you're probably back to 110% when you'll read this, but nonetheless, Get well soon!

unknown man: Well, that's kinda what I've been trying to decide. I believe I have enough planned to make it quite a bit longer, but the longer anything gets, the more stale and boring it becomes.

So, with that being said, I have a bit of a choice to make.

For the meantime, let's get back to why ya'll are here.

The song in this chapter is worth listening to while you read. It's a great song, and would help pass the time while you read this. I happen to have the privilege of owning The Dark Side Of The Moon on vinyl, and it blows digital out of the water.

The runner up song was Broken by Gorillaz. After watching the live "Visual Video" again, and with me being a sucker for anything with Noodle, I'll probably fit it in elsewhere.

Also, I fixed the links in my profile, I'd forgotten to add 12's, but I believe I have it sorted out. It is me, however, so I wouldn't be surprised if it's still off.

Chapter 14: Us and Them

"Down and Out
It can't be helped but there's a lot of it about
With, without
And who'll deny that's what the fightings all about
Get out of the way, it's a busy day
And I've got things on my mind."

- Pink Floyd

[][][]

Martin put the disc into the computer and waited for it to load. Seconds later, a shady looking program opened in the command prompt.

Sighing, he clicked the instructions and expected his virus scanner to go off.

Surprisingly, nothing but a text editor opened.

'Dear reader,' he read, 'I don't know how you got ahold of this, but congrats. Before we begin programming, allow me to issue this warning.'

The mouse pointer hovered over the scroll icon while he contemplated whether he should continue or not. After a moment of contemplation, he ultimately continued.

'Follow the instructions included and allow the program to run until finished. I have also included the schematics and list of necessary parts in the event controller becomes damaged. This process is irreversible and your vehicle will not run correctly without it.'

Seemed a little extreme for an upgrade but he continued.

'This system is not an upgrade. It is a conversion. Whatever you install it in will not be the same. Instead of taking orders from the ECM like the monotonous robot a car is, it will begin to think for itself. Instead of relying on outdated sensors and fuel maps, it will decide it's own timing parameters, necessary fuel usage, and amount of air needed. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY DAMAGES FROM MISUSE.'

Spinning in his chair, he looked across the brightly lit garage to where both his cars were parked. The Skyline sat on the right, the headlights illuminating under the fluorescent lights while the metal flake in the paint danced and sparkled across the hood.

Beside it sat the Integra, almost finished except for a bit of clear coating and interior work. Sitting low to the ground, it's blue paint job and white stripes down the side gave it the appearance of a common ricer. If only they knew what lurked under the hood.

'If you are ready to continue, select your vehicle from the list and enter the code. If the factory engine is not in the vehicle or it has been heavily upgraded, make sure it has been started and ran for at least thirty minutes before connecting the ECM to your computer via the cable you should have.'

Scanning through the list, he eventually found the code for both vehicles. It took a moment of deciding which vehicle to use, but he ultimately settled on the Skyline.

"It's our fight," he mumbled while he propped the hood up and disconnected the module.

Setting it beside the computer and connecting both the Mad Doctor's module and the original with the cable, he entered the code. Seconds later, the screen darkened, allowing the program full use of the memory available.

A prompt appeared with the progress of the installer.

'Reading data on module,' the text said with a bar and timer below it.

He jumped at the sudden outburst of music from his phone and tapped the screen.

'New Message from Mordecai: Yo, still up for Anarchy?'

Looking to the prompt that informed him there was four and a half hours remaining on the install, he began typing.

'Yeah, but I'm gonna need a ride.'

[][][]

Benson parked under the streetlight in his apartment's parking lot, his keys in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other.

After locking his door, he began to walk around to the front of the building. As he approached, the door of a van slid open, causing him to turn from the door.

"So," the leader of the group said as he stepped from the van, "How's it going?"

Recognizing the voice, he sighed, "Fine."

"You can probably guess why we're here," he said, holding up one of the new fliers.

Already knowing what it said, Benson looked to the large print reading, 'Volleyball tournament cancelled, instead there will be a live performance by The Lone Rangers.'

"There was a problem, we had to make changes, Mick."

Mick stepped forward, allowing the streetlight to illuminate him. Wearing a light blue volleyball jersey over a large muscular chest and arms, he laughed, "Sure, there's always problems. I mean, look at these guys. 'The Lone Rangers', there's three of them, not one."

Benson dropped his keys into his pocket, "Look, we're not having the tournament, and we already changed the fliers."

Mick sighed and shook his head, allowing the long, brown dreads to shake along, "Well, I'm sorry to hear that."

Snapping a finger, another from the group stepped forward, causing the ground to shake as he did so. Wearing the same uniform but lacking the large upper body as the leader, he made up for it with a pair of goliath sized legs.

Grabbing the bag from Benson, he began rifling through it, handing a pack of pencils he found to Mick.

"What have we here?"

"Office supplies."

"Right you are," Mick said, handing them to the member who stepped forward with a nod.

Taking one from the pack, he began to bend it, trying his best to snap it but not achieving it. Out of frustration, he threw the whole pack to the ground and began stomping on it. After leaving a large crater, he stepped back into the shadows.

"Oh no," Benson said sarcastically.

"That's just a taste," Mick informed him as he climbed back into the van, "It'd be a shame if something were to happen to that picnic of yours."

"Ooh, I'm shaking," he said as they sped away.

[][][]

Mordecai sighed and set the can back on the bar, "Well, what do you think?"

"I think," Martin began, tired of discussing Mordecai's love life, "You need to man up and move on."

"Geez," he said, not expecting that answer.

With a shrug, he finished his own drink and smashed the can, "If my answers frighten you then you should cease asking scary questions."

"I just don't understand it," Mordecai said, rolling his can back and forth between his hands, "I mean, she had to of known I liked her, right?"

"Don't try to understand women. Women understand women and they hate each other," he said while snapping open a new can, "You have to be direct in life, don't wait for something to happen."

"I don't know," he said.

Martin spun around and pointed across the room, "See her?"

Mordecai followed where he was pointing and seen a girl around their age sitting with a group at a table, "The one in the dress?"

He nodded, "Yeah, name's Callie. She liked a guy but was too afraid to tell him even though he knew."

"And?"

"And look at who she settled for."

Mordecai looked to the bored looking guy playing with his phone. Seemed like a typical jock type, black tank top and a red baseball cap. Without looking from his phone his mouth began to move when he shouted to be heard over the music.

"Give me your keys."

Rolling her eyes, she pulled them from her purse and he grabbed them from her hand. Pushing everyone else out of the booth, he walked toward the exit, still looking at his phone.

"What a jerk," Mordecai said.

"Takes her car without paying for gas, makes her pay for his cell phone," Martin began, shaking his head in disgust, "She works as an accountant in a law firm, has her own apartment, no credit cards, but no money. That jerk lives with his parents, never worked a day in his life, and takes everything she makes."

"That's terrible."

"It happens," he said while turning back to the bar.

Mordecai raised an eyebrow, "How do you know all of this?"

Martin sighed heavily and raised his can, "I went to school with her, and work on her car whenever he breaks it."

"And what about you?"

"Me, I'm a privileged jerk. I'm set for life."

"I meant about being direct," Mordecai said.

"Some people are just better off alone."

Finishing his own drink, the bartender took the empty can and gave him another.

"So," Mordecai said, tiring off the decline in mood, "Where's the rest of the band?"

Slamming the rest of his drink he shrugged, "I don't know, we weren't needed tonight, they're doing some kind of laser light show here."

"Did you think about what I asked?"

Martin nodded, eyes fixed on the bar, slowly returning back to normal, "Only person that didn't agree was Ry, but Lyle can fill in for him."

"So, you'll do it?"

"Yeah, why not?" he said, starting in on the fifth can.

"That's great," he said, a grin crawling across his face, "They've already began to build the stage and sent out fliers."

Setting the can down, he wiped his mouth, "On one condition."

Mordecai paused, lowering his drink back to the bar, "What?"

"In exactly one month, we have a race."

"A race," he blinked, confusion evident.

Martin nodded, the serious look on his face sending chills down his spine, "You and your car against me and mine. I'll even let you pick where."

Thinking it was a joke, he laughed nervously, "Why do you want to race that thing?"

"Revenge."

Mordecai thought he heard him wrong.

"At first I didn't believe it," he said, looking back to the bar, "But now I have proof. The Black Tear is back to ruin more lives."

"More?" Mordecai said, lowering his drink.

He nodded slowly, "I'm not surprised he didn't tell you about it. Benson, isn't it?"

"How do you know Benson?"

"He's the cause of it all. The reckless creator of the Black Tear."

Allowing a chuckle to escape, he shook his head, "No way, you must be thinking of another Benson."

"You ask your boss about it," Martin said suddenly, turning to lean in close to him, "And tell me If his eyes are as clear as mine."

While Mordecai held his gaze he saw the seriousness in his face. Whatever the reason he had for this outburst, it wasn't sudden. It was cold and long overdue.

Mordecai nodded when he turned back, "Alright. I'll race you."

Martin chuckled and began nodding.

"I have some conditions of my own."

Martin stopped and glanced toward him, "That is?"

"It's just a simple race, no one gets hurt and nothing changes."

Martin nodded, his mood returning to normal, "Of course."

"Also, I'll need your help to get rid of something in awhile."

Alright, I'll cut it there so it'll be up relatively early this week.

In regards to the opening, I can keep it long and tie in the first part of the sequel. I can wrap everything up and move on to the sequel. Or, I can just go ahead and include the sequel together.

I'm still on the fence about everything, so IF you plan on commenting, let me know what you think.

And I apologize for suddenly dropping in the names of the cars. I can't help fitting mine in whenever I can…

As always, thanks for reading and the feedback.

See you, space cowboys (and cowgirls)…