Who: Jordan ( CaptainSparklez ), Tom ( TheSyndicateProject ), Tucker ( iijeriichoii )

Mentions: Sonja ( OMGitsfirefoxx ), and Nade ( OpTicNaDeSHoT )

Warning! Inappropriate language and sexual content is in this chapter!

It was a nasty, cloudy, muggy night. I hate racing in this kind of weather. Downtown wasn't the best place to race, cops and pedestrians, and I really don't feel like running over people or kill them with my gun.

But it was a street race between gangs, so the main roads were getting the tire tracks tonight. Every available car, in race or no, lined the streets we where going to use, blocking the stop lights, alley ways, and other intertwined roads that would cause trouble with the common public.

Hot babes walked everywhere. Either with their racing boyfriends, sitting in cars, or the best, fixing any vehicles that had been busted. They would be bending over, so their fine, half uncovered asses stuck out for the men to see. Every group of men, half of them had bulging tents in their pants.

I was sitting in the comfy arms of my car's leather seats. The radio was blasting, and engine roaring with power. My gang members where spread around the area, making sure no one tried to kill me. It's happened twice before. Ruff life, yeah know?

My car was a completely red Nissan Skyline R34 GT-R. Devil horns where painted on the hood of the car, symbol of Dianite, the god of Hell. I am the leader, I created the Dianitees. I had named the group after my dead, heroic friend. The one who didn't try to get rid of me or beat me, but he took care of me. He healed me from my sickness, though the marks and the green skin will always be there, to haunt me. He was Dianite, and even if he was the devil, he had helped the poor souls that needed help. I had tried to pray to what ever gods there where, and they never helped. So much for the greatness in this world. That's why he'd been my role model ever since.

Any damage to my Nissan Skyline wouldn't affect us. Our garage is stocked with the best equipment on the back market. My gang, was one of the richest, most winning group in the United States of America. The reasons we were in Los Angeles, was simple. The Mianitees, another rich and unstoppable cluster, had sent a request to race in their territory. The Mianitees alpha is a snotty, salty, white dude called Tucker Boner. His girlfriend, Sonja Reid, is the beta. Though it seems, that she has more control of the pack then Tucker himself. I don't know why he'd called his group that. Probable a cheesy story that I wouldn't care to listen to. Everyone has deep shit stories, we're street racers, what do you expect?

A horn sounded, telling me to get my ass over there. A female's sexy, seductive voice spoke in a microphone, "Main race between Mianitees' alpha and Dianitees' leader. Get over here boys," she sang.

To that, my party all gathered around me and my car, I was their representative of the group. Our women and men came to send me a volley of good lucks and threats if I didn't win. I laughed off those, they knew that I always win, by either a hair, or by miles.

"Don't bail out on me, brother," my right hand man, Nadeshot, came up and stuck his head inside the open window.

"Listen Linda, you know that I'd never bail out on you." I chuckled. He quietly laughed with me too.

Behind Nadeshot, the twins, Tony and Josh, called out to me. "We got the cops covered, boss." I look over Nade's shoulder and nod towards them, signaling a 'great' to them. They smiled, and I couldn't help smiling with them too.

Another horn blared. I rear my engine, making it bellow nice and clear through the crowd. Nadeshot ducted out from the window, and everyone backed up to give me some room. I've broken peoples toes by running over them, they know I'm ruthless.

As I put my gear shift to drive and weave through the crowd of cars and people, I start thinking about the race. If I really where to lose, what would happen? If I were to win, what would I get? Money? I already have enough of that. Women? I have them crawling all over my lap. But if I were to lose, I'd be losing money, the women, and lose my rank of leader in the group.

I roll up to the starting line, Tucker was already there, making his exposed motor screaming on his steaming car's hood. How he can even see with that thing in his line of view, I don't know. His automobile was a completely white, and expensive, Mitsubishi Eclipse. It had wheel extensions also, making it bigger than normal. I was sort jealous of the fact that Tucker had basically gotten a better car than me, but I put more work in my baby then he does in his vehicles.

Tucker give me a side ways glance, making me shiver on how the race is gonna go. He laughs at my discomfort. That imbecile is going to get it for that, I determine. And he's going to be begging for me not to, I conclude. With that, I turn my head back to the front. The two red dice dangling from my polished rear view mirror.

The crowd started to cheer as the hot starter passed in front of my car. She was a blonde, with abundant of make-up plastered on her plastic face. Her cloths were of a stripper, shorts exposing her light-skinned derrière. Her shirt was like a bra, barely covering the over flowing tits, I'm guessing she's a cup double 'D' wearing 'B' sized cups. You could smell the sent of sex in the air that she was wavering around the area. A powerful feeling of the need to win came to me. Not just for the gang, but mostly for my penis, wanting that beautiful lady in front of me beneath the covers of my bed. The bulge in my pants proved that matter.

"Ready, set, boys?" she smirked looking towards me.

A motor rumble cuts across the crowd, and it came from right behind me. What the fuck? Are they going to fucking tag us? I swear if they do I'm going to kick their asses to China. I start grabbing for the leather door handle. If their trying to have us not cheat, I hope they have a fun time because that's not stopping us. I had opened the car door, standing tall to the intruder of our competition.

"I'd like to join your captain vs. captain race." an unfamiliar voice stated loudly over the commotion. I almost laugh that his comment. What is this guy thinking? I get a good look at the man, and that was obliviously a real man. And not one of those wannabes.

There, standing proud and tall next to his automobile, was a man I'd never seen before. He was around twenty-five, with red shades, black hair and short black haired beard. I'd been trying to grow one, but only have a bit of hair on my chin as a result. He was wearing a black shirt with green khakis, lean muscles noticeable through the tight shirt. He was short, but had the finest ass I've ever seen for a man. I had to say, he made my jaw drop down to the ground. I turned my head the slightest and saw Tucker staring at the sight also.

He was standing next to his car, a completely purple, snazzy 1970 Dodge Charger. A golden scale glowed on the front of his car, red on the left handle of the scales and white on the right mixed in with the gold. The car's highest horse power speed must have been near 295 hp, almost near mine, 300 hp. He was rich as shit. The car had a real, bad ass appearance.

"Can you even reach the gas pedal?" someone joked from the crowd.

"Dude, come on. This is a battle between bosses. Get your self lost." Tucker remarked, seeming zonked.

"Tucker Boner, isn't it? Well, your the alpha of the Mianitees right? Tom Cassel, your the leader of the Dianitees right?" He asked us. He knew my name? "I, Jordan Maron, am the leader of the Ianitees, and I so happened to qualify for this competition of dominance." He observed us both, like we weren't a match. I was going to teach him a lesson like I have to teach Tucker. Everyone, respects me.

The crowd was in a sea of laugher. It was just too funny. "Y-you want t-to go against the t-two fastest r-racers in the world?" someone choked out, I didn't see who because of the tears of laugher in my eyes.

"Yeah," Jordan announced, staring into my black eyes with his light blue ones.

After another wave of laughter crashed into us all, someone yelled from the behind. "Why not let him? We all know that he's going to lose to probably half the track, going granny speed." There were snickers in the bunch.

Jordan smirked, "Then lets begin!"

After the commotion that the hunk started, Jordan had gotten in his intimidatingly purple Dodge Charger, and made his engines bellow with power.

I sat back into my Nissan Skyline, which was rumbling in it's parked position at the starting line. I open the door and relax myself into the leather seats, relieving some stress that had jumped on me. As I close the drivers door, Jordans purple mass drove it's self to the spot next to my side, inches from me. I instantly became more nervous that the fact he was so close to me that he can just turn his steering wheel a bit my way and he'll be ramming into me. I jab down the button for the window to squeak down, fresh air hitting my face. I look over and see Jordan rolling down his window, a concerned look on his face. "Good luck, Dianitee," then he hollors, "Good luck, Mianitee." While he put his windows up, I faintly heard him say something about he was going to win for his lady.

I breathed one more sweep of fresh air, and put my windows up also, ready for the race to start. I put both hands on the steering wheel, straight in front of me. I was being heavily judged, and I couldn't afford to lose it now.

The beautiful starter got back to her spot in the gap between Tuck and I's cars. Her two red bandannas swaying in the wind above her head for a ready. She slowly lowers them till they're level with her shoulders, the fabric pieces swirling slightly. Everyone still for five seconds.

She throws them down to the dirty pavement, screaming "Go!"

I stamp down on the pedal half way, tires screeching at the sudden movement. I lurch forward, passing the starter. Tucker, Jordan and I nose and nose. The mass of people cheering as we rapidly rank up in miles per hour. I briefly look down to my speed monitor, reading ninety-nine and increasing. We warp speed down mainstreet, the road unwinding and straight, but wouldn't be for long, I'm sure.

As we gather even more momentum, the competition starts getting fierce. Tucker was leading, Jordan threatening to take it from his grasp by inches. I was last, straining to over come Jordan. Shoppes in a blur as we try and beat each other. I inch my foot forward on the gas pedal, gaining a burst of speed to surpass Jordan and take Tucker's lead by milimeters. He speeds up and over takes me, sticking me to fight with Jordan for second.

The end of the straight road comes, and a wide turn comes into view. I avert my eyes from the road to Tuckers direction to see him scowling. I snicker in the sight of him uncomfortable in his own city, Los Angeles.

We come to the bend, the speed meter on the stop sign blinking frantically. Our speeds flashed on the digital screen; one hundred twenty-one, one hundred twenty-seven, and one hundred twenty-four, in order of our positions. If Jordan was at one hundred and twenty-four, I started thinking to myself. And I was having trouble at one hundred twenty-seven, I discourage myself even more, that screams that his motor was god dam boss.

I switch gears, turn my steering wheel, and press the gas pedal, drifting around the corner. Jordan's nose the same distance as my front tires. I swerve straight, almost bumping into Tucker's white Mitsubishi Eclipse. I look into my rear view mirror. As Jordan's Dodge Charger straightened out, he rammed into my back wheeles, jostling me to the side.

"Bitch!" I yell. I'll make this rich ass pay for that with his own pain. Tucker's vision was distracted from the chaos behind him. When he averted his eyes back to normal, he almost smashed into a telephone pole. He swerved to get back on the road, passing in front of me. "Fuck!" I scream. No way in Hell was he going to front me. I veer to his right side, and advance to be tip to tip with him. Jordan on the left side of him, lined up with his back wheels.

Our course was a square, we end up at the begging. We drift at every main corner we need to take. Cheating is permitted. Speed boosts and taking someone out is allowed. The trophy is the best street racer in the United States of America, women can be also a factor.

I look over to Tucker, he was concentrating on the two mile, unbending road. Should I pull a gun on him? I question myself. Nah, Sonja needs the bitch. I reason with myself. I examined him through quick glances his way. He had light brown hair, brown eyes, and an attitude that will drive you up the wall. Other then that, I don't know shit about him. I don't want to know my enemies. I look back to the road, and continue to fight with Tucker for the lead.

We start getting close to the second corner, and I place a sweaty hand on my gear shift, ready to drift to first. The corner comes rushing, I switch gears, and start tapping the break pedal, not wanting to lose speed. I make my wheels scream as I turn them. Everything comes and goes as I spin around the corner, a crowd appears, hooraying or booing the fact we where almost there. I straighten out into Tucker's passenger side, glimpsing the death glare he was giving me. I grin back at him, enjoying my time. I press the gas pedal more, speeding past Tucker. I guffaw a maniac laugh, going truly crazy. I could hear Tucker screaming insults, banging the horn of his steering wheel. The insults were meaningless to me, making me go faster. I was a secure meter ahead of Tuckers vehicle. People cheering as I drive by at a hundred sixty miles per hour, kicking up trash and rubble into Tucker's windsheild. I was going to kick his salty ass.

A random thought came to my mind, Where'd Jordan go? I look at the outside rear view mirror, looking at the back of me. I surprise myself to seeing a horror that was such a pleasant thing to see happen.

Jordan's low level car was nose to nose with Tucker's higher off the ground car. I saw Jordan veer his steering wheel away from Tucker, but soon turning it back the other way. He was ramming his car into Tucker's underside and tires, damaging them entirely. Tucker was inside, screaming his head off like a bitch, while Jordan was grinning like a lunatic as he rammed into is opponent's underside. He was getting paint chips, but Tucker was getting the bad end of the stick. He had to have a high horse. "I love you so god dam much, Jordan." I mutter under my breath.

A couple seconds later, Jordan abruptly stopped his torment, his eyes wide like he heard something strange hid in his car. I raise an eyebrow to the loss of entertainment, not wanting to get into a chaos with either of them. In the corner of my eye, I see the salt shaker lowering his extensions for leverage. Jordan swerved to the left to keep distance from the enraged Tucker, not wanting him to leash out on him. The were still neck and neck, though. They would over come each other, but seconds later the other would reach up. I looked in the mirror to see the crowd, their shocked faces whirling by. I was amused, I was a good five meters ahead of this mess, seeing my own movie behind me.

We were nearing another corner, the final drift, before one of us takes it all home. Most likely me, of course. I speed past a stop sign and a dark, unguarded alleyway. Strange, I thought to myself. I thought the twins got all the crevices covered.

My question was soon answered, as Tucker and Jordan pass the unsuspecting hiding, sirens and flashing lights cover my senses. "Shit!" I shout. Cops, trying to stop the battle between bosses, they couldn't have picked a worst day to show up at work. Their speed slowly picked up, but we left them in the dust, their wailings of law fainter and fainter in my ears. I grab the walkie talkie next to my gear shift, holding the button down to jabber orders into it. "Twins, cops on course. They came from an unprotected alleyway, most likely will call reinforments." I take my hand with the walkie talkie away from my cheek, the back of it pushing on the steering wheel straight. With the free hand I had, I griped the gear shift, the notches of it moving vibrating my arm. Angling my arm, I slightly turn the car with my occupied hand, the back of my hand itching.

"Aww, man. Sorry Boss. On it." I hear Josh complain through the walkie talkie. I hear the start of screamed orders, but cut off. They're loud, if I could hear them from the steering wheel they are really loud.

I finish, and switch the gears again, transitioning my free hand back to the steering wheel. I take the left arm, away from the wheel, and plop the walkie talkie back into the cup holders. I return all the limbs to their rightful places for driving. I quickly look behind me, Jordan and Tucker on my tail. The screams of sirens came around the corner, more of them this time, coming closer. My heart beat went to my throat, not wanting to stay in my chest anymore. Seconds later, I hear gun shots, and the screeching of tires on the rocky pavement again. The brothers must have solved our little problem in that situation.

I pump the gas pedal, inching my way forward from the two fighting behind me. Tucker was struggling, and Jordan looked as furious as the red bird in the game 'Angry Birds'. Tucker and Jordan kept fighting for half the way there, catching up to me slowly. I was going 200 hp now, and was barely keeping my trunk from getting hit.

I heard Jordan's scream on frustration, looking back instantly. Jordan turned back in his chair, one steady hand on the steering wheel while the other one was rummaging in the back seats. I quickly spared a glance towards Tucker's way, his face in utter horror for what will happen. I finally realized what Jordan was going to do, and switched back to the road, slamming my foot on the gas pedal one quarter of the way max. I frantically looked at my speedometer, the thing slugging it's way up in miles per hour.

I look back to the two men behind me, Tucker was struggling to getting out of reach from Jordan's view, and Jordan was still rummaging in the back of his vehicle. Jordan's arm twisted something, and he turned back around in his seat just in time to shoot forward, passing Tucker in about twenty millliseconds flat. He veered to my right so he didn't smash into me. He started to get slower, till the speed boost of his boosted him to where I could see his license plate from my driver's window.

I was not going to lose to the ass hole with his little cheats. I slammed on the rest of the way to max, not wanting to get second best. The finish line was in the line of sight. I equaled back with Jordan, gaining on him more and more. He gripped his steering wheel, smashing his foot on the accelerator. We each press our last urge, wanting to win so badly.

A white flash crosses my eyes, blinding me for a couple of seconds. We had passed the starter, she flagging down our victory, following with more flashes of pictures. I started getting dizzy, the groups of people cheering swaying with the tilting world. Had I won? I question my sanity. I slow down, and pass my whooping gang, them running after me. I pressed on the break, decreasing to twenty miles per hour in a minute. A crowd starts to surround me from all sides; hollering and banging on the windows. The tires make a complete stop. My hand reaches out the the handle of my car door and push it through the mass. It felt like zombies tearing at my flesh, wanting every part of me. The commotion got even louder, blowing my ear drums out. Hands smacked me on my back and ass, women half dressed throwing themselves at me. But I wasn't interested.

I look over the wide range of heads blocking my view for what I was looking for. I was looking for the other contestants, wanting to wish them a 'good game' out of the pure kindness I had discovered in my heart while racing down the streets. I find Tucker first, seeing the distress he was in at the moment. Sonja was screaming at him, insulting him while he stood leaning on his damaged car with his head bowed down. His team members having disappointment on their faces. Some where screaming at each other for reasons unknown to me. My attention got drawn back to Sonja shrieking her lungs out at Tucker. She took a big step towards him and slapped him, his face swung towards my direction. We lock eyes, and silent promises to keep quiet about what had just happened passed between us. I avert my eyes from his, and look of the other competitor. Spotting him a minute later, surrounded with a smaller group. Women where crawling all over his chest, surprised even though he got second place. Hesitating, he leans his mouth to the younger girls ear, his mouth covered by the girl's fluffy hair so I couldn't see. After he was done telling her, the look of horror spread across her face. She pushed herself off him, a smug look on Jordan's face. The hottie started yelling at him, hand gestures swirling around her. She pushed him again, his butt hit the side of the hood and he almost fell on top of it. She stormed away, heels clicking.

Looking back to where I was going, I stumble and fall onto my face. The stress controls my body, my muscles tense and a migraine evading my mind. Blackness consumes me, and before I know it, I passed out.

~

"Yeah, bye." I exclaim behind my back. Walking straight, not knowing where I was going. I couldn't take the attention anymore. I was used to the quiet country side of LA where we had acres of land to race each other, to get better so we could kick booty.

I had won by inches to spare, but I consider that Jordan and I had tied, no matter how silly it was. Tucker had came last, and it worried me when I over heard people say that Sonja had left him essentially also leaving the group. That is the exact purpose I only have one night stands with the women here, they always want more.

So while I lead my gang to victory, Tucker had lead his to disgrace, and Jordan had won respect and a few requests to be in his pack. I couldn't help but think of what would happen if it was all reversed. If Jordan had won, Tucker getting second and gaining respect, and me coming in last by a couple meters. Or if Jordan came in last, Tucker came in first, and I in second. There were so many possibilities of it being changed, and I just had noticed it after my own ignorance landed me first by luck.

I continued to weave through the crowds and cars, simultaneously trying to think about things for the sole purpose of thinking. Music was blaring, people talking and laughing, engines sounding through the area, and tires screeching from the starting lesser-mattered races. I was going deeper into the crowd and I hadn't noticed it until I was almost up in his face. Jordan was leaning on his newly washed 1970 Dodge Charger, dubstep music was reverberating through the wide open windows. I looked the slightest downward in his direction. He was even more handsome up close. His red shades kept sliding down his sweaty nose, wonder sparkling brown eyes exposed everytime.

"Hello there," his voice sang, I almost melted. The people who were talking to him before quieted down for him to speak to me.

"How'd you get that speed boost? Pretty gnarly, bro." I asked him with wonder. The corners of his mouth tilted up in a smile, he didn't answer his secret. "Good race, dude." I sigh after silent seconds past.

"Yeah." We stand there awkwardly as the rest of the crowd thinned. A question was stuck in my throat and I couldn't get it out. It finally pasted through my vocal cords, "Wanna join my gang?" He raises a bushy eyebrow at me questionly. Continuing to not sound crazy, I explain why: "You know, since there is no one with you. And your pretty good, so you might need more practice to get better. Then you don't have to live in your rich ass mother's house." Chuckling at my idea, he shakes his head to deny my request. The heart inside my chest thumped to regular rhythm again.

"Nah thanks. I don't believe I would be accepted for who I am," he implied. "I won't be lonely for much longer, I'm sure. Since I've only lost to the fastest bad ass in the U.S by inches, I'm sure people will crawl through 'my rich ass mother's house's' windows to get to me." Sarcasm was dripping from his mouth, I snickered to the comment.

"I'll end up with more group members then you, Mr. Speedy." We stood their laughing at our own comments being bounced around in our conversation.

"I'd like to see you try!" I chocked out from the laughter.

Jordan abruptly spins on his heels and bends into the open window of his car, I quizzically follow him with my gaze, not sure what he was doing. I hear him rummage through several compartments in his front seat until he backs out of the awkward position, banging his head on the rim of the window sill. "Shit." He murmurs rubbing his head. He had a sticky note pad and pen in his hand. Writing numbers on the small piece of paper, Jordan then handed it to me. I look at it and see that it's a number, but I had no idea what it was for. "It's my number. For you to call when you need me to save your butt from chaos or if your in the mood to lose the next time in a race." He smirks as he playfully insults me. I couldn't help but smile also. I had made a new friend by beating the shit out of his confidence and win with him inches behind, who knew?

As I was going to ask him a question totally absurd, yelling starting screaming at us to run. The sirens of oncoming police cars too loud for my liking. Jordan and I look towards the noise and see the flashes of the cops lights, men slamming open the door with guns in hands.

Jordan looked back at me, "I guess I already have to save your sorry butt. Get in." He simply states, like he did this before. It accured to me that it might not have been his first time racing, with the skills like that to almost beat me. He slips in the front seat, already starting the car. I run around in front of the hood, opening the door and sliding in next to him. He rears his engine and the scrambling people made way for him. The thought about my own car sitting there made me think about what would happen. I lifted myself off the seat just enough for me to gab my phone from the back pocket. Scrolling through the many contacts I had, I select to call Nadeshot to tell him to drive my car to safety. He picked up, "Hey Nade drive my car to the garage. I'm in the car with Jordan. I trust that he'll lose the cops." I order into the phone, I was side glaring at Jordan, he cracked a smile and honked his horn again so he could gain speed.

"Okay, boss. But may I ask why your in the car with second place?" He questions me. I too, was questioning my sanity also. "Don't ask." I say before I hang up on him.

Jordan finally got out of the crowd, racing through streets and side streets to lose the two cops trying to chase us. We lost them in five minutes, the gun shots behind us. "You know your not that bad, Jordan Maron." He met my gaze for a brief moment before averting his eyes back to the road. "You too, Tom Cassel."