Re: Meet the Talking Car
Cool air screamed, sliding roughly against what exposed olive skin there was, tugging roughly at the tight fitting leather apparel, its resistance immense. But his perfect form cut through the air, lights of the runway flashing brightly off of the plate glass visor that composed well over half of the specialty motorcycle helmet. A loud whirring noise emanated from the meeting of the nano-tire wheels against the rough asphalt, indicating once again that this world was still so rustic as to employ such an environmentally hazardous material. Exhausted could be smelled upon the air, albeit they did use mostly gasoline powered airplanes… The fact that they still used airplanes was cause enough for him to chuckle.
Ahead, raced his objective. Slick as oil, the strange yellow light of this landing strip blazing their yellow reflection upon it. It was going somewhere around 80 miles per hour; it was hard to tell with his visor on that exact speed of it, it hardly made a noise. It just raced ahead, tempting him, its swiftness speaking to the Angel, tempting him, practically challenging his superior racing abilities and off planet technology. His breath came in deeper draws, the cold lakeside air stinging his nostrils, heart thumping at a faster tempo than before. His hand pulled back the handle further in a swift motion, accelerating to 90.23 mph, he looked down at the speedometer, it read 91, he would have to get it recalibrated. He was getting closer to the black car, closer to the rush of winning against such a speedy looking demon.
It was only a few minuets ago that the Angel of Mysteries had stepped off of his private jet. He had arranged through the syndicate to come to this isolated planet for a while, they had smuggled him easily in, along with his bike and car, to some isolated place called Wisconsin. He had hated it… So, he took a jet rise searching for adventure and he had found it.
Black silk strands wavered around a tanned face, tresses caressing the broad line of his handsome jaw lightly. His sleek athletic build was not adorned in its usual expensive suit, no, on this day he wore fun clothing. Tight, thick leather that fit snuggly against his skin, a special back with zippered slats that could allow his wings to either be out, or discretely tucked away, in between a holder for his sword. His arm held the helmet especially made for him, the field of vision expanded to all that is possible for him to see, visually. But for some reason, he always felt it took something away from him…
A booted foot met heavily with the metal stair that led from the exit/entry portal of the high class plane, the cold air seeping through the seams and cracks of his attire, bringing to life the drowsy skin, chilling the duller and relaxation enjoyed while traveling, sparking something deep inside the man. A squeal caught his ears, a sound both familiar and different; it was the sound of an actual tire against asphalt. And to the right, a sleek black car revved its engine, peeling away as some girl stepped away from it.
The next thing Raziel had known, he was upon his motorcycle, revving the powerful hydrogen powered engine, the bike humming erratically under him, back tire sliding back and forth for one second before he short forward like a beam of light, it had a one minuet, thirty-four and fourteen hundredths seconds head start, going approximately 77 miles upon its passing him.
And now he was riding its tail, inching forward and to the side.