Post by fierano on Nov 23, 2006 3:52:08 GMT -5
Las Vegas, Nevada
Sin City...reminds me of home... the '03 BMW M3 GTR thought as he briefly stared up at the moon, treading its lonely march across the light-polluted skies. It replied by glinting softly off of whatever shine was left in his white/indigo paintjob, and reflecting off his matching-indigo eyes.
Home for this car was still a ways off, in and around Carbon County on the West Coast. Carbon County was where he started his "career," and the place he knew he was heading back to...soon...soon. Why he'd left was something he didn't want to think about, but it was something he certainly hoped would be put back in the past. In the meantime, he kept himself busy by keeping watch, as he rested partially concealed in a forked alley somewhere not too far from the main roads.
Granted, it sort of felt degrading to Carl Magnus that a luxury coupé that had been so cleanly customized for the pure yet illegal thrill of a good street race could be found exhausted and travel-weary in some lonely back alley. But that was a price he knew he had to pay for his reputation, which had pursued him all the way from Rockport - on the EAST Coast.
Carl never even slowed down to enjoy the glittering neon driveshaft of Sin City's glory that was the Strip. He had kept to the side streets and definitely away from the LVPD and Feds, which he could do with relative ease thanks to a built-in GPS-Radar combo. Of course, he was still wary as ever, as bounty hunters and other assorted mercenaries and gangs after the bounty for his sheet-metal could be roaming around the city looking for him. He might as well fall asleep with one eyevisor shut...
Sin City...reminds me of home... the '03 BMW M3 GTR thought as he briefly stared up at the moon, treading its lonely march across the light-polluted skies. It replied by glinting softly off of whatever shine was left in his white/indigo paintjob, and reflecting off his matching-indigo eyes.
Home for this car was still a ways off, in and around Carbon County on the West Coast. Carbon County was where he started his "career," and the place he knew he was heading back to...soon...soon. Why he'd left was something he didn't want to think about, but it was something he certainly hoped would be put back in the past. In the meantime, he kept himself busy by keeping watch, as he rested partially concealed in a forked alley somewhere not too far from the main roads.
Granted, it sort of felt degrading to Carl Magnus that a luxury coupé that had been so cleanly customized for the pure yet illegal thrill of a good street race could be found exhausted and travel-weary in some lonely back alley. But that was a price he knew he had to pay for his reputation, which had pursued him all the way from Rockport - on the EAST Coast.
Carl never even slowed down to enjoy the glittering neon driveshaft of Sin City's glory that was the Strip. He had kept to the side streets and definitely away from the LVPD and Feds, which he could do with relative ease thanks to a built-in GPS-Radar combo. Of course, he was still wary as ever, as bounty hunters and other assorted mercenaries and gangs after the bounty for his sheet-metal could be roaming around the city looking for him. He might as well fall asleep with one eyevisor shut...