1964-02-19 - And They're Off
Summary: A mob hosted street race ends with a powder blue twist.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
ford elektra vx ne 


Mob races.

A bit more organized and high stakes than your typical low life street races. More notable names pop up and things are treated more like a formal party or evening of entertainment than a gathering of vicious criminals. A good chance for both the bad folks to show off for the watchful eyes of mob family members, or a chance for good guys to sneak in and get a good look at the miriad of gangs who run Hell's Kitchen. Either way, it's a very careful and calculated affair. Criminal hopefuls and up-and-coming gangsters show up to strut their stuff. Few police show up to these events, hoping both to not set off a powder keg of gunfire and, to avoid getting killed themselves. Best to just let it happen, even if you know it's happening.

Tonight is no different. Organized this particular night by the Gnucci family, the various gangs of Hell's Kitchen show up to witness fast wheels and daring drivers take to the streets… and if lucky, see some good crashes. Mob enforcers and lowlives of all walks have gathered, some with the intent of making a name for themselves with the Gnucci's themselves, others to start gathering potential followers. And in the case of one expected racer, to show off like an arrogant peacock.

A slightly scrappy limo pulls up to the assembled mumbling group of car handlers and criminals, who mingle about on the center of a street, lining up cars at the makeshift starting line. Out steps a couple of BIG fellows in gray suits, followe by two considerably smaller, slightly less shaven men. Bobbie and Eddie Gnucci. Ma Gnucci's precious little boys, youngest in the Gnucci family. "A'right, you wise mugs! Listen up! Races gonna be startin' in about 10 minutes. Your engine ain't on the line, you ain't racing! Got it?! Good!" Bobbie shouts, while Eddie speaks to a couple of roughnecks guarding a bright red racer towards the front of the line. The only one so close, as a matter of fact. An unspoken, but obvious advantage in the race.

But the whispers and mutters are going around, all asking the same question: where is this so-called hotshot racer? If the rumors are to be believed, he got invited by Bobbie himself…

*

Ne wasn't really the mob type. Oh sure, she'd take a job from them, sell stuff to them, but the girl in white was hardly one of them. She was still a woman after all…and it was sort of hard to climb your way up to running your own empire when you didn't speak if you were on your own. That doesn't mean she's not putting in an appearence.

Here, for once, she's not even pretending. No illusions to conceal herself, the young mutant's odd-colored eyes and mixed pink and brown hair are on full display as she moves among the crowd, her parasol closed but held like a walking cane while she looks over the cars. She never did branch into Grand Theft Auto…but then, she hadn't exactly had time for driving lessons with her life. Better to steal things she could carry than get arrested grinding gears in a getaway.

*

It isn't often that VX gets out of his own turf these days, between being wanted by the police and the agressive actions of the pro human groups out there. And so lately he has seen far more than he would like to have of Mutant town. This street race offers a welcome distraction, there should be little to no cop presence and if any pro-human groups rock up he should just be able to blend into the crowd fairly easily. And now VX walks into the car meet, his Harley parked just up the street. He immediately moves into the crowd and mingles in amongst the press of bodies. This may just be a distraction from his daily life, but he wouldn't pass up the chance to gather some information on the current state of the streets.

*

While Elektra had been *trying* to stay under the radar, once it was clear that her old employers had gotten wind of where she was living again, she simply gave up. Life was more fun with some danger anyway. So, while she didn't get a specific invitation, she sure as hell heard about the races and, woman or not, was determined to join. So, pulling up as fast and smooth as any other sports car there, a cherry red Porche rumbles onto the scene and up to the line of cars. She kills the engine, for now, and swings a long, shapely leg out of the car before pulling herself up into standing. She's in a pair of skin tight leather pants and a leather jacket — some vague sort of protection should there be an accident, but isn't trying to hide her frame or gender in any way. If anything else, she's very much trying to show it off.

The shapely, exotic skinnned woman saunters around the back of her car towards the organizers, flashing a red lipped smile and that carelessly confident look in her eyes. "Room for one more?" She asks, tone slightly accented and husky.

*

In general, VX and Ne are not given much attention, though the occassional wolf whistle is thrown Ne's way, as well as a few strange quirks of the brow. But given that nearly everyone here seems to have some kind of scary, injury or deformity in some regard, most let it slide. The general air is one more of curiosity and careful social navigation, as VX is sure to find out. Passing by Bobbie Gnucci as he spoke to a few of his thugs, he could catch a whif of the conversation; "I knew it. Tough guy is all big talk. But when you actually ask him to put up or shut up, he shuts up."

The crowd quiets down for a brief moment as Elektra's red porche pulls up, before a flurry of whispers starts up. Everyone seems to believe she's the new hotshot. As she steps out of the car, the volume of the crowd seems to escalate, whistles and howls practically drowning out much else. Eddie Gnucci looks up from his conversation with his personal car handlers and evidently tries to make himself look a bit more presentable by smoothing out his hair and adjusting his suit. None of which detracts from his box-shaped head, graying hairs, or the cigar stench in his breath. Approaching Elektra, he smirked and offered her a hand shake. "For you? I think we can make an exception. Seem to be one short. Your spot's over there. And, ah, if you have a bit of time after the race, maybe you'd like to talk a bit of business~?"

Vx and Ne will note that the conversation spreading now is that Elektra is the hotshot Bobbie invited. Though most seem confused - everyone seemed under the impression that the up-and-coming racer was a guy…

*

Ryan arrives from Midtown.

*

Ryan has arrived.

*

Ne wouldn't be hard to pick out of a crowd. Between her white coat, that umbrella and the fact she was wearing pants rather then a skirt? Well…and the hair. Regardless, someone who'd seen her before would recognize her on the spot. Her eyes, like everyone elses, shift towards the arrival of the unexpected and overtly curvaceous new racer. Rather then confusion however? The young woman just smirks a little. Perhaps there's a little bit of satisfaction by proximity for the suprise. The attention she garners herself? She seems oblivious to it by truth or design, but when her path crosses with the other mutant she does recognize? Ne raises a hand in greeting, giving VX a wave of her fingers and a questioning tilt of her head.

*

He wasn't expecting anything specific, just to get a general sense of who is making plays and what not. Such information is usually not too hard to glean even from snippets of conversation, it isn't anything he really need to know. Bbut you never know what you may need to know. And then he spots the familiar distinguishable oufit and the telltale hair and of course that parasol. He was going to avoid her, at least for a little while. Hate her to think he was stalking her. But then she catches his eye and waves at him. Well there goes that plan. He moves over to the woman with a small grin. "Should have expected to see you in a place like this suppose. You never are far from the trouble."

*

The tall woman in the leather jacket and pants slightly slows as she passes Ne — after all, that's not something you see every day — but she gives the strange mutant a once over and a bit of a nod before looking back up to Eddie, waiting to see if she actually has to teach someone a lesson about women being just as capable as men, or if she's welcomed. When the welcome is offered, Elektra's wine-dark lips pull into a wider smile and she offers her slender hand in Eddie's direction, "Well, Mr. Gnucci, it's a pleasure… and I'm not certain we're in the same business, but I am always open to listening. Let's teach some people how to drive first, though." Elektra's accented tone states in pure self confidence.

Then she's turning on the ball of her foot and heading back towards her car so she can pull into that last spot. The click of her high heels is no doubt drowning in the crowd, but she's not exactly in racing shoes. It still doesn't seem to bother her and she moves with pure grace as she ducks back into her car and shuts the door. A moment later, she's pulling into the hot shot's space.

*

Ryan has left.

*

As VX and Ne meet up, both may be able to overhear a particularly big brute in a Russian accent speaking to another gangster. "Yes, comrade. Times are good on the docks. My cousin from Bravvoch is getting a job at Pier 74. Plenty of mercs work that dock. Is good time to be working too. Hear big news! Snobby French warship is pulling into docks in couple weeks. I tell you, is good time to be Russian in New York."

Eddie continues to try and slick his gray hair back… to little avail. "Oh, we could always use a few more curves to round out the boys. Plenty of work of a lady like yourself in the Gnucci ranks. Looking forward to it~" A few more wolf whistles and Elektra is back in her car and ready at the starting line.

After a few more conversations going on, the car handlers pull off the street and a man holds up a raggedy old piece of cloth, likely torn from a shirt, and waves it over his head. Bobbie Gnucci hops into his red car at the front line and his brother Eddie stands on some nearby building steps, arms folded. "Alright! You all know the rules!" The flag man shouted. "Three laps round the block! Race doesn't stop for crashes or other accidents! Anything goes!"

"On your marks..! Get set…! GO!" The cloth is dropped and the air is immediately filled with the squealed of tires and the revving of engines as the cars peel out from the starting line, with Bobbie well in the lead thanks to his proximity to the starting line.

*

Thumb and index finger together, Ne gives the universal signal for 'a little bit' before she turns her gaze towards the screeching begining of the race, both hands coming to rest on the parasol's handle while she leans her weight against it to support her standing. She'd hear that little Russian comment, note it down in her mind for a moment before tilting her her head to the side. Was it too late to place a bet? Probably. A shame, for the illusion-creating mutant had missed an opportunity to be creative. Next time perhaps.

Back to VX, there's an obvious questioning quirk of her brow as to why he was here. She hadn't taken him for mob-connected after all.

*

VX takes a mental note as he overhears a very interesting tidbit, unfortunatly his time as a cop is over or that would have been a nice huge lead. But from where he finds himself in life now? Well he won't really act on it unless he has to for some reason. And at the moment he is flush with cash and has no reason to go poking around in that business. He is up to his neck in his own trouble already.

He grins broadly at Ne's gesture "You know one day I am going to make you make a noise again." He shakes his head the smile never leaving his face as he almost seems to read her mind, or maybbe he is just getting better at reading the small womans body language. "Just thought I would get out of mutant town for awhile." He keeps his voice just loud enough to be heard "Things have been pretty tense lately, and I felt like getting out for awhile and blowing off some steam." He looks back towards the cars as they tear off. He has always loved seeing high end vehicles take off like that.

*

The dark haired woman pulls out the moment the race starts, no fear or hesitation in her driving. If those high heels make it a bit harder to control, she certainly doesn't show it. Elektra operates her Porche like it's an extension of her body, shifting and weaving between the cars that the powerful engine beneath her is already able to pass. Since she was one of the last, her starting position wasn't near so good, but she's catching up without issue and has passed four cars before the first lap is over. She doesn't race dirty either, no side swiping or trying to drive anyone off the road. She just drives real damn well and shows that off in the best way possible. She doesn't need to cheat to win.

*

As the cars start off along the line, Elektra easily manages to outpace two before the first right turn. She's number 6 in the line up, but her driving is par exellance, putting her closer to Bobbie Gnucci's car very quickly. But the air suddenly turns tense, even prompting a few guns to be drawn by some of the enforcers. A seventh engine roars to life down the street, immediately careening through the mob crowd and across the starting line, evidently attempting to catch up with the leaders ahead of him.

"Son of a gun, that's him!" shouts one gangster. Clearly, Mr. Hotshot has finally decided to show himself, and none too soon, his arrival clearly putting him at a disadvantage… but his skill is something to be admired. But the car is something Ne should be very familiar with. She's seen it before… and recently too! Along with its driver! The cocky mechanic at the diner a few days ago… could it be…? Either way, it's undeniably the same car. Light powder blue Ford 300 with chrome finishes. The other mumblings of the mobsters seem to indicate that this is the real show off they've been waiting for.

As the first lap completes, Elektra is likely to see something approaching in his mirrors. Up ahead, she can see Bobbie Gnucci himself, his red racer taking up a sizable chunk of road as he expertly drives to keep Elektra back off his arse. But there is one car that seems to be matching her in skill coming up behind her. A powder blue Ford… one that wasn't at the starting line.

*

From her position at the starting/finish line, Ne doesn't really have much of a direct effect on the race. She -could-, but that'd probably be ill-advised with all the guns that are drawn. With the arrival of the newcomer? She doesn't go for a weapon, nor show her powers, instead the young woman just raises an eyebrow and then looks back at VX with a smirk. He'd got her to laugh once, perhaps the only proof that she wasn't truely mute, but she just brings a gloved finger to her lips. No need for him to go spreading that detail around, she had her reasons for silence after all.

Back to the race she looks, shifting her stance on her parasol with a thought. Perhaps she'd have to get the winner's number later. Just because she couldn't drive didn't mean she wouldn't have use for a wheelman.

*

In her car, Elektra's humming quietly to herself. Classical music playing over the enhanced radio she's put into her beloved vehicle, the atmosphere inside such a stark contrast to the dangerously high speeds race that is going on outside her little bubble. So she hums and smiles, whipping around one more car to put her almost on Bobbi's ass. Her Porche takes the next turn beautifully, but she finally notices that actually getting ahead of Bobbie might be a bit more difficult. He's clearly the best of the drivers here… until there is another car in her rear view. "…What in hells…?" SHe mutters to herself, looking just a moment. She can't afford to take her eyes off the road up front too long. Finally, she sits up straighter and starts getting really serious about the race. The humming has stopped.

*

As the racers come around their second lap, everyone starts muttering about the fact that the late arrival, Mr. Hotshot, is already 3 cars up. Whoever he is, he's good. So good, in fact, as he passes by the starting line on the second lap, he actually takes a brief moment to blow a kiss Ne's way… though at his speed, it's likely to go unnoticed. But what is noticable is Eddie's concern for his brother… more accurately, his brother's image. "Sunnuva bitch shows up late, now has the gall to be pissing all over Bobbie's driving… punk better watch himself… looks bad to the other families, ya know? Getting shown up by some late starting loser."

As the second lap rounds out, one of the drivers in the back takes the first turn too hard and ends up skidding himself onto his roof, with several gangster shouting and running to pull him from the wreck. A grim reminder to not take those turns too sharp. Elektra finally sees an opening, pulling up alongside Bobbie in the second turn. The crash has distracted him! But he refuses to let Elektra take the lead proper. At best, it's a neck and neck tie. And coming up behind them, hot on their tailpipes, is Mr. Hotshot himself. Thankfully, Bobbie seems too focused on Elektra to pay the new threat much mind.

As the round the final turns, both Elektra and Bobbie slow down to make sure they don't take the turn too hard like their unfortunate competitor a moment ago. Yet Mr. Hotshot seems wholly undeterred by the danger! In fact, he takes the chance to speed up and around them… and going at the turn far too fast! That's when… something happens. In a split second as the powder blue car slipped around, the whine of brakes can be heard alongside the rev of the engine. The car begins to fishtail its rear end deliberately towards the curve, skidding itself to the side to take the turn. For lack of a better description to anyone involved, it begins driving sideways. From their perspective, both Elektra and Bobbie can see the driver for a brief moment. Dirty brown hair, aviator goggles, and a defiant smirk on his face, his finger pointing at them and clearly giving them a wink before straightening out on the final stretch. The display is enough to put Mr. Hotshot in the lead and take the finish line, but leaves Bobbie utterly stunned… leaving plenty of room for Elektra to sieze the chance to take second place.

At the starting line, everyone else has gone deadly silent. Evidently, this kind of driving is something nobody has seen before.

*

Well…that's going to ruffle some feathers. Ne can't help but chake her head for a moment before she gives VX a little jerk of her head. It might be a good time to get scarce soon, since there were probably a few mob types displeased by the late entry. They tended to express that displeasure with bullets too. No sense getting caught in a gun-battle that wasn't her own when she didn't need to. Twirling the parasol lazily, she turns away from the gathering at the finish line and begins to melt into the crowd. The woman was memeroable enough and Ford was Ford. She could easily find them again…or at least she believed as much. For now? She was going to get out of the way.

*

Ne has partially disconnected.

*

Elektra is up Bobbi's ass like white on rice right now. Or, in the case of our hosts, mama's good gravy on spaghetti. It's risky, the moves she's taking, trying to get close enough to whip around him at the one chance she finds, but it means if he makes one unexpected or unwise move, she'll end up crashing them both. That makes her heart race, adrenaline spiking for the first real time this run. This is why she was here! The crash only makes her slightly wince, mentally noting that turn, but not slowing down one bit. Soon enough she JUST starts squeaking by Bobbi when the 'hotshot' pulls off the impossible. "…F*cker." Elektra breathes out, but she doesn't go shocked. She doesn't change her driving one little bit. Her ego was, at least, going to ensure she beat all the Italians because she apparently liked picking fights with dangerous people. SHe pulls ahead of Bobbi just at the last second and speeds foward, coming in second behind that strange blue car.

*

VX isn't the kind of person to wince as the vehicular carnage takes place, that is the kind of shit he lives for. Even if he is not in the drivers seat he can feel the adrenalin pump through his body invigorating his muscles. And then the ending of the race is truly something to see, that was some damn fine driving. And on top of that it all came down to the wire. Really an excellent race, and the crowd going nuts is clear indication of how good it was. But still that scent of danger permeates through the crowd.

VX turns slightly to look Ne in the eyes as she jerks her head. He has learnt to trust the mute woman lately, even if that may be a poor descision in the end. And his own danger sense is tingling anyway. He nods his head to her and begins to melt into the crowd with the rather eccentric looking woman. He may be a little less memorable than her, but standing near her he looks like a very large dark and dangerous shadow to the colourful woman.

*

The sight of Ne and VX optin to leave doesn't seem to draw much attention from others… mainly because, that seems to be what a number of other folks are planning. One look at Eddie's face can tell that he is both as shocked as his bother is… and extremely ticked off! "What… in God's name did that bastard pull off!? That's… that's gotta be cheating somehow! Sunnuva bitch cheated!" As far as anyone else is concerned, VX is just the typical hired muscle for Ne, escorting his mistress to safety before things get ugly.

Whether he's sensed that the danger is coming, or he simply showed up to show off, the powder blue Ford 300 doesn't stop it's running as it crosses the finish line. It keeps going and before long, it's driver is well out of sight around the nearest building. Should Elektra venture to stop herself, she'll find that most folks who stay congratulate her cautiously, evidently keeping their wary gazes on the Gnucci brothers. For his part, Bobbie is furious, stopping his car and getting out with a stomp, clearly fumed that he was humiliated so badly. "That sunnuva bastard! Eddie! Call Ma! Tell her we need to do some talking…" That is a clear signal for everyone to start packing their things up and beating it. If their was one thing in Hell's Kitchen that criminal types feared more than cops or vigilantes, it was a pissed off mob family… and the Gnucci's were now thoroughly pissed off.

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