06-21-2017, 04:36 PM
Blue-clad legs dangled out the driver’s side door of an ancient dusty Buick parked on one of the many forgotten street corners leading maze-like throughout Mega City One.
CRUNCCHH!
Mad Bull ripped the plastic cover of the Buick’s steering column out, letting it echoingly clatter against the empty streets. The immense bulk of the officer was wedged between the bottom of the dashboard and the car’s pedals as he tugged at clumps of wires now revealed along the steering column. With a sharp tug the burly cop pulled out a bundle of coils. He studied the wires for a moment before singling out the red and brown wires. His teeth stripped the insulating plastic cover off the two wires.
SPARKAAAA, FEKFEKFEK, GROWWWWL!
The officer sparked the two exposed wires together, and after a few embers of electricity jolted into the air, the car’s engine ignited and gave off a dusty roar.
“Yah ha!” Sergeant John Estes exclaimed. Laboriously, the burly policeman got to his feet and sat comfortably into the driver’s seat. The old Buick’s front seat had that springy, sofa-like quality that all long-gone Detroit studs used to feature. Back in his youth, this was the sort of couch a man could lose his cherry on, and the memory of prior high school exploits in the back seat of similar vehicles filled his heart with a little twinge of nostalgia.
He fingered the clutch for moment, perhaps catching his bearings in the old vehicle or maybe reminiscing on what ol’ Maria Fonticello was wearing on their senior prom. The seats were musty with age and the rusty frame was barely hanging onto itself after the decades of neglect (Maria could probably say the same these days…), yet the engine still managed to cough itself awake and putter. He closed the door with a sudden slam and took a quick glance at the fuel gauge.
“Almost empty,” the cop muttered, “But I’ll betcha this ol’ girl’s got enough in her to get me where I need to go.”
CRUNCCHH!
Mad Bull ripped the plastic cover of the Buick’s steering column out, letting it echoingly clatter against the empty streets. The immense bulk of the officer was wedged between the bottom of the dashboard and the car’s pedals as he tugged at clumps of wires now revealed along the steering column. With a sharp tug the burly cop pulled out a bundle of coils. He studied the wires for a moment before singling out the red and brown wires. His teeth stripped the insulating plastic cover off the two wires.
SPARKAAAA, FEKFEKFEK, GROWWWWL!
The officer sparked the two exposed wires together, and after a few embers of electricity jolted into the air, the car’s engine ignited and gave off a dusty roar.
“Yah ha!” Sergeant John Estes exclaimed. Laboriously, the burly policeman got to his feet and sat comfortably into the driver’s seat. The old Buick’s front seat had that springy, sofa-like quality that all long-gone Detroit studs used to feature. Back in his youth, this was the sort of couch a man could lose his cherry on, and the memory of prior high school exploits in the back seat of similar vehicles filled his heart with a little twinge of nostalgia.
He fingered the clutch for moment, perhaps catching his bearings in the old vehicle or maybe reminiscing on what ol’ Maria Fonticello was wearing on their senior prom. The seats were musty with age and the rusty frame was barely hanging onto itself after the decades of neglect (Maria could probably say the same these days…), yet the engine still managed to cough itself awake and putter. He closed the door with a sudden slam and took a quick glance at the fuel gauge.
“Almost empty,” the cop muttered, “But I’ll betcha this ol’ girl’s got enough in her to get me where I need to go.”
Quote:Mad Bull moving from C2 to C16