Life tends to just go on in the "Big City." Unless something is _really_ unusual, people tend not to notice. Which brings us to this quiet (HA!) evening in Chicago. An evening like... Umi: This is really pathetic, you know. Damien: Yeah... So? Umi: Get on with the story, would you? Damien: I was... I think a *little* background would help, don't you? Umi: But this... this is so... juvenile. Damien: It's a mindset, Miss Ryuzaki. ... As I was saying. An evening like any other... Until it is shattered by the roaring sounds of engines. (Umi: Now can you get down to something well written?) Steven Wayne had the accelerator of his little Geo Storm to the floor. The vehicle strained against his abuse as he rocketed down the through-fare, leaving the ground for seconds at a time as he cleared small rises. "PLEEEEEZZE don't catch me!" he wailed, giving a glance in his rear-view mirror. For a moment, nothing (besides the OTHER drivers) appeared behind him. Then with a blaring whine of a finely tuned engine, a humvee jetted over a small hill behind him. The wide vehicle hit the ground with a crash, squealed around a bit while the driver resumed control, then sped after Steven. "Ohshitohshitohshit..." Inside the humvee: "I hate this damn vehicle, you know that?" The driver didn't take his eyes off the road in front of him at his partner's comment. "C'mon," he moaned, "I ripped an engine off of a P-51 for this baby. It's gotta be able to top..." he glanced at the speedometer. "Damn. It's broken. Figures." "C...c...c...c..." "You trying to say something, Matt?" "Sus... sus... sus..." The driver veered to the side around a station wagon, directly into the oncoming traffic. Horns blared, and he tried to dodge, but couldn't miss that Lambourgini. The right side of the humvee rode up the front of the slanted vehicle, and the driver held a side-wheelie through two intersections. Eventually, they crashed to their normal position. "Dammit!" the passenger shouted. "Can't you get some suspension for this thing?" "All in good time." The driver peered ahead. "I think I see him. Hit the nitro!" He stabbed his finger onto a button on the dash. The already high-pitched whine jumped two octaves and the pair of them were thrust deep into their seats. "Ain't you glad I got bucket seats for this baby?" "Uh, yeah... Sure." The passenger shook his head. "Insane engine freak," he muttered. Steven Wayne took another look into his rear view mirror. He noticed how much closer the humvee was, and his pants became soiled. "I think I can take him now. Hold the wheel!" "What?" the passenger demanded, but quickly grabbed the steering wheel when he noticed the driver had already let go. The driver rolled down his window and stuck his head out. "Yeah... I can hit him." He reached back into the rear seat and whipped out a 50 caliber gatling gun, then proceeded to blaze away at the racing Geo. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH," Stephen shouted. He jerked the wheel to the side, behind him, layers of asphalt and bits of cars were systematically blasted away by the high-velocity lead. "NOOOO!!!! I missed!" the driver cried. "This calls for desperate measures!" he stood up, popping the sunroof. The wind tore at his hair, but his driving glasses kept him from going blind. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING????" "Just keep steering, Mike! I've got the accelerator covered." The passenger sighed. "Great. Just great." The driver (now accelerator pusher-downer) reached behind his back and pulled out his portable howitzer. Steven looked into his rear-view mirror again. That long cylinder didn't look too friendly. The driver pulled the trigger... ... Steven slammed on the breaks... ... A shell shot out of the ten-foot barrel... ... Steven opened his door and jumped... ... The howitzer round rammed into the Geo Storm and reduced it to a bunch of burning, high-speed, scrap metal. Steven rolled to the side of the road, then vaulted to his feet and began running, already panting. The driver sat back down and slammed on the brakes. "I missed him!" The humvee came to a screeching stop, and the pair inside watched the retreating Wayne for a moment. "He went into that building!" the passenger announced. "I've got him." He jumped out of the car and pulled a small round object from his jacket, which he lobbed at the building. The object smashed through a window, and for a moment nothing happened. Then, with a dull thump, the lower half of the skyscraper evaporated in a white flash. The shockwave from the explosion opened a crater that caused five other buildings to start collapsing, as well. "Ahhh," the passenger sighed. "Just gotta love those .2 kiloton babies." A blackened, smoking figure stumbled out of the wreckage. "Could somebody please take me to jail?" Steven Wayne wailed. Later, after the police arrived. A middle aged detective confronted the pair. "You did this?" she asked, gesturing towards the building. The driver shrugged. "Maybe, Ray." The detective shook her head. "Larry... you've gotta learn some restraint." The driver smiled and turned toward the (now battered) humvee. "I'll think about that, Ray." The detective shook her head as the pair raced off. "Larry Vincent and Mike Hopkins... Those two have got to be watched." *** Coming at various intervals to the FFML (and maybe some other locales.) Totally testosterone packed adventures with little point. Larry Vincent and Nano-Mike Hopkins are the... GUNSMITH PIGS (soon to be available in multiple SPAMfic form. Action figures sold separately.)