In the End

-1-

A Letter On The Doorstep

Dear Carlo,
         I'm sorry. I know I've explained it all already, but you deserve so much more than that. Look, I just don't know if I can do this anymore. The lies, the cover-up, and all those other damn sins are weighing heavy on my back, and I can't stand on my two feet much longer, and I can't keep using you for a crutch. Nothing good has come from our partnership, and I just need to get out. What happens to me isn't important now, you're the one that matters. Remember that, until the day you die. What happens to you is what's important.Me, I'll just fade away and no one will remember any of what I did. Anyhow, enough of this self loathing mumbo-jumbo. I love you Carlo...

Cordelia

-2-
A Passing Glance

One Year Ago

         Under the cover of night brave men stood by their machines staring down the world and what it offered them, retorting with a snort and a scoff. In Obsidian City these men were bandits in the night. Throwing all cares to the wind, they rode through the streets at night without aim or mission, asside from the race. Not always so simple as the fastest car wins, or winner takes all, no. These were men of honour who's religion was one of travel and speed. Tonight's endevour had been in preparation for two months. The goal was simple. Three men were to drive into the night, speed across town and end up on one of the docks. The first there was not the winner, but the one who lived to get there took home the cup. All throughout the way there was a motley assortment of traps and snares, this, coupled with the ferocity of the drivers and their intent to win, made the whole idea very dangerous.
         There were about five people at the starting line, apart from the other drivers. There would be much more at the finish, all screaming and shouting for the winner. Carlo loved the attention. Carlo loved the way the fans all cheered for him and, furthermore, he loved the cold blooded look in their eyes while they cheered. That glimmer that lusted for more of that grim violence that was tested to perfection during the race.
         A few drops started to fall from the sky as Carlo slid into the fine leather seats of his racing machine.A dark blue fierce looking steed that hugged the ground on every turn and ran like cat on fire. Along the side was a white stripe underlining the word "Julia." The car had been affectionately named after his wife.
         Before turning the key he slipped his hands into a rough pair of fingerless leather gloves, a good luck charm he'd gotten after living through his first game of chicken. He hadn't won that particular game, but he had lived after the old Firestar went barreling down a cliff. He lived with little more than three fractures and many scars.
          Julia's engine roared and they went headlong down the road. Carlo focused his mind at the task at hand, deciding it was best not to think about the past when you are clearly in danger in the present. Spark flew up from her left as Francis' car pressed up against the side of Julia and sped off along the road. Carlo remained calm. That idiot would get distracted down the road and he'd be in a world of trouble then.
          In his rear view he saw Terry trailing, playing it far more cautiously. This would be the guy to watch. An experienced veteran who knew what he was doing.
         Francis was coming into view again. Rushing down the road without thinking much about what he was doing. An old soda can began to crush under his front wheel before activating the explosives inside. With a loud blast Francis was upsidedown and airbourne. Then, with a slightly quieter crash, the blacked wreck was right infront of Carlo. A quick jolt of the steering wheel ensured Carlo's safety, though Julia came out with a scratch or two. They had to remember to stay away from any trash in the road from that point out.
         The traps were easy to avoid if you paid enough attention. Razor wires stretched alongside the sides of the route, the trash bombs and a few other little quirks.
         When the docks came into view Terry finally moved out from behind Carlo.The two of them raced toward that mark, engrossed in the task at hand. A can somewhere to the left of them tipped, but neither of them heard it. Find someway to knock the other guy out. Live to the finish. Press onward.
         Terry's car slipped and swerved and flew off the pier into the water. He had hit an oil slick that neither of them had seen. Carlo had just be lucky enough not to hit it. He parked on the dock to greet the screaming fans.
         As more and more or Terry's brand new Waxner two-seater disappeared into the cloudy waters the fans screamed louder and louder. Thirsty for blood, embracing those all to ancient instincts, void of ethics and morallity. Carlo had faith that he'd swim away from that wreck, but the fans didn't think that far ahead.
          He stepped out of the car to give the fans an obligatory wave then returned to his seat in Julia. The door was left open and a cigarette was lit as Carlo reclined back in his seat. Eyes barely opened.
          The masses started getting up and filtering away, back to their homes where they had to be decent human beings again. Carlo stood to stretch his legs, nodding to a few of the "Nice race," or the exuberant "That was awesome!"
         His eyes picked her out of the crowd with ease. Bright red hair, like fire. Cold white skin, like death. Green rich eyes, like the meadows of his dreams. An angel in this bleak little place that lived on sin and depravity. It was out of place. She looked back, and gave the smallest little wave possible, then entered a dark black limosine and rode away.
         A quiet breeze picked up, gently caressing the side of Carlo's masculine stubbly face. The rain had stopped for now, but there was always another storm in the works for Obsidian City.