The Pitstop Articles (C) Holly Wolfe discussion

((This topic will be opened when there is at least four street racers and one cop taken))

((Let the games begin! And remember, you can still sign up for characters if you haven't filled all three of your slots))

Mercedes took a drag on his cigarette. He was leaning against the side of a building staring at a row of glistening cars. It was drizzling slightly and his hair was already drenched. He sighed and eyed the cars, naming each racer that was behind the wheel in his mind and what place they would take.

Pop stood at his side, smoking his own cigarette. His mind was whirled with thoughts and fantasies. Everything was a mess, he couldn't make sense of what goes where. He didn't see the cars, at least not conciously, as he was too focused on his mind.

((Woo!! Just a moment))

((Yeah I made an officer that I can handle (I'm not good with the controlling characters. . .) ^^))

((Are they all in their cars?))

((And yay! An officer would have been my 4th choice, but 4 is a little too much to handle))

((Yeah, but I can't rp a controlling type so he's a weakling. . . Mercedes and Pop are standing off to the side staring at a row of who know's who's cars. That help?))

((Sort of, yeah))

((He's still cool. I hope it motivates someone into choosing the bad cops though))

((Yeah I know, it'd be a lot funner with those bad cops))

Espresso had decided to sit this race out, planting his ass on a wooden crate a few feet away from Mercedes. He was depressed. He had never screwed up so bad in his life. With a sigh, he took another swig of the bottle of cheap scotch in his hand, then looked across the raceway to where Pop was standing. God, he looked so hot when he was daydreaming. He always looked so hot

Mercdes scanned the opposite side of the street and noticed Espresso sitting there. He shook his head. "Pop," he said.

Pop didn't respond. He was still thinking and dreaming of the past. Pain? Yes. Pleasure? Yes. A broken heart? Sadly yes.

"POP!" Mercedes repeated a little louder.

Pop flinched and turned his gaze onto his younger friend. "Yes?"

"You should go."

Trick was sitting behind the wheel of his Jetta, jittery and excited. He was blasting the same radio station every other car in the race was blasting, a retro punk rock. Whoever won the last race got to chose what radio station was on. He was pumped, ready to blow these babies out of the water

Twister was in the race too, smiling a little. He knew he wasn't going to win, but he loved racing. It didn't matter what place he got. He glanced over at the car next to him and revved the engine, trying to intimidate him

Mercedes smirked as he watched the cars. The only reason him and Pop were hanging around was because Pop's younger twin brother was in the race.

"Why?" Pop asked, bringing Mercedes back to the situation.

"Over there," Mercedes replied taking a drag and indicating the direction by blowing the smoke over.

Pop turned slightly and stiffened. "Espresso!" he gasped.

"Yeah, seems you got a stalker," Mercedes replied.

Pop shook his head. "A-as long as he doesn't come near me. . . I'll be fine," he whispered.

Mercedes shot him a look. "You sure?"

Faintly, Espresso heard his name. He bit his lip, knowing they were talking about him. He didn't care though. Anything to get Pop to notice him. He'd always loved the man's eyes, though the look in them right now broke his heart. He stared back, his own eyes pleading

Pop supressed a tremble. He forced his gaze away from Espresso and onto his brother's Jetta. "Y-you think he'll win?" he managed.

Mercedes shrugged. "Not much competition here. . ." he replied lazily taking another drag. "You see the Prius there? That's number 28," he said. "He ain't that good, been rising and dropping all the way to that number. . ."

Pop nodded. "And?"

"Well, the others. . ." Mercedes replied. He glanced back over at Espresso. "It doesn't have to be awkward between you two, you can go say hi. . ."

Pop shook his head. "Who knows what I might do if our bodies are close. . ." he replied. He glanced back over at Espresso and offered a tentative wave instead.

Espresso's heart stumbled and he waved back, just giving Pop a tiny smile. A month ago, Pop would have been running to him, wrapping his legs around his waist and kissing him hard. They hadn't been a conservative couple. He missed those days. He needed someone to hold him again, to love him

Mercedes cracked a grin and thumped Pop on the back of the head. "Go talk to him. . . And if I find out that you slept with him. . ."

Pop shook his head. "No. He broke my heart, why should I run to him?" he spat.

"Good boy," Mercedes grinned. He looked at his watch. "Bout time this race got started right?" He picked up his mobile, also known as a cell phone. It was connected on the same network that connected all of the racers in line. "You know the rules," he spoke into it, his voice resounding through the stereo speakers of all of the cars. "Two laps, first place is $20,000. Ready?"

Pop wasn't paying attention to Mercedes anymore. He looked over at Espresso again. "Damn it, James, why did you do it?" he whispered.

((Someone needs to take Splinter, Espresso's other lover. . .
Oh and by the way, I'm actually currently working on Pop and Espresso's story. It's called The Masochist.))

"Ready" Trick answered, foot hovering over the gas pedal. He didn't care that Mercedes couldn't hear him, he always answered anyway

Twister didn't bother answering. He stared ahead, focusEd on the road. If he won this, he and Eternal could remodel the apartment, getting rid of the crappy furniture to get something nice. He revved the engine again, then shifted into drive

Espresso didn't need to ask to know what Pop was talking about "I don't know" he answered, shaking his head slowly. He rose to his feet, setting his bottle on the crate "I was drunk, and he was touching me and... we just.... it was a stupid mistake, baby, please, I'm so sorry"

Mercedes smirked. "Remeber, the fuzz show and you all scatter," he called into his mobile. "Three. Two. One. Go!"

Pop watched as the cars leapt forward through the rain. "Should we get in our cars in case they do show?" he asked Mercedes. He was looking at Espresso though, watching his lips move but not knowing what he was saying. He had never been much of a lip reader.

Mercedes barked a laugh. "Of course, you think I'm going to sit here like a sitting duck?"

Pop offered a nervous laugh. "Uh. . . Let me know how this turns out. . . I have to go."

Mercedes nodded. "Suit yourself."

The two turned in different directions and trekked to their cars. Mercedes climbed in his at once and powered on his gps screen to watch the race.

Pop leaned against the cold wet body of his Corolla breathing deeply for several long minutes. He honestly couldn't care less if he was picked up by the law. After all, if he did care, would he be the record holder for most arrests in the county? "Maybe the pain will help distract me," he mumbled and pounded his fist against the hood of his car. It stung but the pain was pure pleasure.

Espresso let out a whimpering sound of defeat as he watched Pop walk away. He blew it. The first time Pop had talked to him since the breakup and he blew it. He picked up his bottle of scotch and threw it hard, watching as the glass exploded against the side of the brick building. He went back over to his car, parked only a few yards away, and wrenched out a shout of pain and heartbreak, thankful for the thunder that sounded at the perfect time to match it

Trick floored the pedal, laughing as his car sprang to life of the pack, leaning forward, as if it would make him go faster, he pulled steadily to the front of the pack

Twister, unlike every other racer, did not slam his pedal to the ground. He pressed smoothly, knowing it was the best way to go for his baby. He started out in the very back, but he wasn't worried. It always went like this

((Who should win?))

((Trick in first and Twister in second))

Mercedes smiled as he saw Trick's triangle take the lead. "You're almost there," he whispered as though the other boy could hear him. "One more number and you'll be in the top ten."

Pop eventually climbed into his Corolla. He didn't turn it on for several moments and simply stared through the rain spattered window. Lightning lit the sky. He sighed. "Espresso. . ." he whispered. "Should I give you a second chance?" He felt fresh tears spring to his eyes. "Damn." He reached into the glove box and pulled out his knife. He slowly drew it, enjoying the lightning flashing off the polished blade. He gripped it in his left hand, poised above his right wrist where several pale scars decorated the skin. He bit his lip and slashed angrily at his wrist, opening a fresh wound. Then another and another. He cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. His blood flowed freely from the wounds, dripping onto the leather seat. He didn't care, he just enjoyed the feeling.

Twister pulled in front of the few guys who were bunched in the back. He was in the middle of the pack now, not a good place to be. With quick eyes scanning the road, he pulled dangerously close to one of the cars, coasting. He'd done this trick before several times. Usually the car would move out of the way, giving Twister an in. He gently bumped the car's back bumper encouragingly

Trick let out a wild Tarzan shout as he finished the first lap. He was still in the lead, at least 6 feet out in front of the guy in second. He totally had this

Twister grinned when the car moved away, leaving an opening just wide enough for his car. He pressed the gas pedal harder, inching forward. First lap down. He was in fourth now. A close fourth. He could so win this. He was still accelerating, making his way Ono third

((Someone please uhm, summarize what´s going on please, this is so complex, Oh, I´ll take a bad cop btw! I think I can handle it, and when can eternal or whiskey come in? I don´t want to throw them in there....))

((Pretty much, Mercedes and Pop are watching the race that's going on right now, Espresso is watching Pop, and Trick and Twister are racing with one lap left, Trick is in first, Twister is in third, and it's raining))

Mercedes grinned. "Trick has it." he told himself.

Pop began breathing hard, staring down at his wrist. The pleasure filled him to his very core. He gulped and pulled the old blood stained rag out of the glove box now. He wrapped it tightly around his bleeding wrist and returned the knife to the glove box.

((Okay, I need to know which cop: Corey Curse, Joel Jarvis, or Arthur Griffin. And I think it would make sense if Eternal was around, maybe watching Twister))

Marisol lazily bit into his cookie, his car sitting in some bushes on the side of the road. Most cops went for doughnuts but Marisol perfered cookies. His radio crackled to life. ". . . several reports of at least six vehicles street racing on Park Avenue. . ." he heard through the static. His heart began to race as he pulled out of the bushes with his lights on. "Come get it."

Twister fought for second with some guy he didn't recognize, letting out a silent cheer when he gained the advantage and pulled ahead. Only one spot left. He gunned it, pushing his little car as fast as it would go. Damn it. He could tell it wouldn't be fast enough. There wasn't enough track left. His front bumper was even with the Jetta's back bumper as they sailed over the finish line. He cursed as he cranked the wheel and screeched to a stop

Trick was cheering as he crossed the finish line. He sslammed on the breaks, stopping next to an old dumpster, then leaped out with a little whoop as he ran over to Mercedes "Did you see that?" he asked excitedly, all but bouncing off the walls

Mercedes smiled. "Good job. . . I don't know where Pop got to. . ." he added. "That Twister. . " he began then paused. An all too familiar noise could be heard in the distance. "Well at least they didn't break the race up. . ." he reached out and patted Trick's head as though he was a dog. "Catch you later," he said. "And do me a favor: try not to get busted."

Pop heard sirens. He glanced in his rearview for the flashing lights. His car was still off. He didn't care. "Bust me damn you!" he cried, pounding the steering wheel.

Marisol's cruiser flew onto Park Avenue. He was on the tail of the last two racers to finish. "I need backup," he called into his radio. Then he saw the corvette. "It's Mercedes!"

"Shit" Trick whispered, hastily looking around for his brother. Nothing. Hopefully he could get away, trick didn't have time to waste looking for him. He ran back to his Jetta and swung inside, waiting till the cop flew by before he took off

Twister hadn't even shut off his engine. He swung around, going back to the spectators and stopped in front of Eternal "Get in" he called from the open window, not worried at all. He could handle interrogation from the fuzz

Espresso stretched out on the hood of his car, facing the falling rain. The cops couldn't hurt him anymore than he was hurting right now. Who cared if he got busted? Certainly not Pop. Besides, he hadn't been racing

Pop stepped into the road, the cruiser swerving to a stop in front of him. The officer stepped out. "You're under arrest, racer," he said.
"Yeah yeah," Pop shrugged. Maybe the pain will hurt good. He glanced over at Espresso. Maybe he wanted to get busted too. He gulped, remembering how Espresso had cried the first time the cops of Strike COunty had their way with him. Maybe they'll leave him alone. . . he thought as the cop patted him down and fastened metal hand cuffs around him.

Mercedes made sure Trick was clear before gunning his corvette into the chase. He would lead them away from everyone else with ease and just as easily evade the chase. He glanced in his rear view and cursed when he saw Pop getting man handled by and officer. He sped away.

Marisol brought his cruiser even with an unrecognizable racer who was sprawled on the hood of his camaro. He cocked an eyebrow and climbed out. "Your under arrest," he said to him.

"I wasn't racing" Espresso told the cop in a defeated, bored voice "But of course that doesn't matter to you perverts. Whatever. Cuff me" He held his hands out in front of him, raised in the air with limp wrists

"You have unpaid fines and a history of street racing," Marisol explained. "That's all I need." He came forward and yanked Espresso's arms behind his back and snapped the cool metal cuffs to him.

((Pop and Espresso are going to be at the station in the same holding cell O.o))

Pop was hauled into the cruiser and the door slammed. He idly blew his bangs out of his eyes as the officer climbed back in and began driving towards the police station.

((Yay! That's what I was hoping for ever since the cops showed up))

Espresso let out a hard laugh as he was restrained. He didn't know why the situation seemed funny. Maybe it was the alcohol. He hadn't had too much, but it was enough to add a layer of fuzziness to every thought "Take me away, copper" he instructed "I have the right to remain silent. Anything I say can and will be used against me in a court of law. I have a right to an attorney. Since I can't afford one, one will be appointed to me" He knew the rights by heart now

((^^))

"Yep yep," Marisol agreed. "Although here that probably won't be necessary. . . This is your second time in this county? Do you remember how the higher ups like to work around here?"

It took ten minutes to arrive at the station. Pop was hauled out and thrown in the holding cell. "Someone will be in to see sometime," the officer informed him.
"Yeah, well tell 'im to hurry up. . ." Pop growled.

"Higher ups?" Espresso repeated with another bitter laugh "You mean the motherfucking pervert cops who rape drivers for info about Mercedes? Hell yes I remember. I still need to pay him back for that" he paused for a moment before asking "Mind lending me your gun?"

Marisol barked a laugh. "Yeah those would be the ones," he said. "And no, I don't want you shooting my cousin." He opened the back of the cruiser and shoved Espresso inside. Then he climbed in the driver's seat. "Cops in your old county don't do that, I hear," he said. "Well, I suppose they don't have someone as infamous as Mercedes in their streets. . ."

Pop banged his head against the brick wall behind him, enjoying the bursts of pain that it sent through him. "Damn."

"Cops in my old county aren't cowards like your cousin. They don't believe in using blackmail and force to get some. I mean, he ain't bad looking. Then again, it's all in the personality" Espresso sat as comfortably as he could, then put his feet up on the shoulder of the passengers seat "Please hurry. I ain't got all day"

Marisol glanced in the rear view, angled down just enough so he can see out the back window and see his hostage. "Well. . . He's not a coward. . . I don't know, Corey's always been that way. . . He used to abuse me when we were little. . ." he said. The cruiser putted down the residential road at a lazy and legal 25 MPH.

"Oh, I see how it is. He's a natural sadistic pervert. His parents must be so proud. What were they, a pole dancer and a dentist?" Espresso wasn't looking at the cop, but his tone was still bitter and insulting

Marisol shook his head and decided against responding to that comment. He eased the cruiser into the station parking lot and climbed out. Then he yanked the back door opened and pulled Espresso out.

Espresso didn't need the encouragement, but he didn't protest as the cop shoved him around. He walked into the police station with his head held high, trying hard not to think about what would happen when Corey came to see him

Marisol brought him to the holding cell. "Looks like you'll have some company," he said shoving Espresso inside and then removing his handcuffs. He slammed the cell door behind him and locked it.

Pop didn't open his eyes when he heard Marisol's voice and the cell opening. Great, I just wanted to be alone, he thought.

Espresso scowled at the cell door, then turned away with a huff. He looked around for about a second before his eyes zeroed in on his cellmate "Oh my god" he whispered, then louder "Pop?" He would recognize that man anywhere

Pop's eyes flew opened at the sound of Espresso's voice. "W-what are you d-doing here?" he stuttered out.

"I got busted" Espresso said, voice still detached and shocked as he stared. He almost couldn't believe it. He was alone with Pop, finally, and neither of them could go anywhere "Same as you, I'm guessing"

"Yeah. . . I did," he said and fidgeted uncomfortably. He glanced at the walls and the barred door then settled his eyes on the floor. Anything else to focus on so he didn't have to look at Espresso. They were alone. . .

Espresso took a few steps closer, feeling an almost magnetism between him and the man who had been haunting his every thought for a month "Baby, please look at me" he said softly, half reaching for him

Pop squeezed his eyes shut. "Even if I did, it would never be the same look I used to give you," he whispered. "Never."

Espresso fell to his knees in front of Pop "Anything is better than this" he said, sure that it was true "I love you. I have ever since we met. I never wanted to hurt you"

"Then why did you do it?!" Pop demanded. "you really hurt me, you know. . ." Hot tears formed in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks.

"I don't know" Espresso shook his head, fighting the tears that were threatening to fall "I was so wasted, I would have fucked an armadillo if it had been touching me like that. I wasn't thinking" He rose to his feet again, staring desperately into Pop's wet blue eyes