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Englishtown, New Jersey… A stream of young people in various hot-rods, attempts at showboats, and newer or rougher vehicles has gathered this Friday night at an as-yet incompletely-converted dragstrip, ….well, if one prefers grandstands to a bunch of cars shining headlights with their radios having been tuned to the same New York stations once the sun went down: the scene's surprisingly-organized, a bit rowdy, and occasionally loud with engines revving and periodic burnouts. A brunette girl in a black leather jacket, skinny jeans, and a few checkered-flag accessories is helping stage a Ford Roadster and a coupe on the strip, and taking out a pair of green flags to hold up when all's ready. When they drop, the two cars are off… one seeming to start to smoke near the end of its run, another blazing on triumphantly past someone flashing a light at that end of the quarter mile.
Jersey City, earlier this afternoon:
"Hey Zoe, you going with me down to Englishtown tonight and showing up those local greasers?"
"Josh, I already told you, I'm not interesting in seeing how fast you can go - I'm well aware of it already."
"Awww, come on baby, I promise no funny business."
"Well, if you're sure.."
Having overheard the conversation, if it's one thing that Kamala Khan knows for sure, its that if the Jersey City folks are heading down to Englishtown, this could be bad - there was a natural bad blood between the two cities barely an hour apart with Englishtown claiming that Jersey City is just another suburb of Manhattan, and Jersey City calling Englishtown a bunch of backwards hicks.
But also, the allure of watching some races was way interesting. Having hitched a ride on the back of one of the cars heading down towards Englishtown in her smaller form, she slipped off the bumper and brushed herself off before slipping behind some tires to return to normal size. She's dressed in an airy blouse with undershirt, a long skirt and leggings with a pair of sneakers. Her hair is pulled into a braid with a scarf settled around her neck as she starts to wander about the different cars, the darker skinned girl taking it all in.
Julie is presently coming off the line, having handed off her flags like a changing-of the guard, making for one of those parking areas, and a specific cameo-two-tone Chevy Nomad, where she passes another girl leaning on the fender, that says, "Mario blow up again?" She shakes her head. "Eh, I dunno, but I don't think it's that bad." Reaches into a cooler in the back and withdraws a Pepsi, popping it open on something attached to said cooler. "If he's been shaving his head gaskets too much again I'm gonna…" A brief little of colorful Italian follows, and she smirks. And glances around at the people about.
As one of the cars makes a loud noise that it probably shouldn't have, Kamala startles slightly, but calms quickly. As she's looking around though, the young woman realizes that she's parched. Seeing the cooler and the Pepsi coming out of it, oh how she wishes - but she schools herself. There's a smile offered to Julie. "I'm sorry, I didn't come prepared, it seems. Do you know where I can get some water?" she asks, reaching into her small bag, complete with the Captain Marvel lightning bolt on it to take out her wallet in case she should pay for said water,
Julie ahs. "Eh, I got some Pepsis and a few beers for later, if that's OK. Just offers another of said bottles of Pepsi. "Gotta stay straight while I'm, ah, officiating. Maybe driving later if I feel like unloading all this stuff I brought for the boys," she winks, indicating the back of the car: it's like a two-door station wagon, otherwise a common '56 Chevy, apart from perhaps a few modifications and how it sits. The accent's very New York Italian.
"Oh." Kamala looks crest-fallen. "I am not allowed the Pepsi, it is Muharram." she explains, "And beer is not ijazat dena." There's a pause before she smiles apologetically. "It is against my faith to drink beer." comes the words finally, "I can find some water - somewhere." She hopes. "Do these races happen often? This is the first time I've been here." While her accent is Jersey, the urdu influence is clearly there.
Julie ahs, "Ah, I dunno what that is, but someone's gotta have something. Thinks a moment. The other girl waves a plaid-patterned Thermos, and says. "Cawfee all right, or is that some kinda problem, too?" She doesn't seem unfriendly about it, just doesn't really get the restrictions, likely.
"Coffee is acceptable." Kamala says with a smile. She frowns a little as thinks. "I'm Muslim by faith." she explains finally. "And right now, it is my New Year, and we all fast. She fishes out a couple of quarters to pay for the coffee that's offer. "You race?" comes the next question, the young woman's face showing clear amazement. "I recently made a friend that does the same, I think - or maybe she just drives as such."
Julie ahs. "Well, *that, I heard of," she says. "Well, kinda. Jenny, if you'd do the honors?" She says to the other girl there, similarly-attired. "Oughtta still be hot, anyway. Oh, ah, this is my friend Jenny, everyone calls me Dizzy. And, yeah, I might get in a pass or two, put my cheater slicks on and everything, but you never know. My cousin there's still trying to get more out of flatheads tonight, is mostly why we're here.
"Hello Jenny, Dizzy." the young woman offers. "I'm Kamala. It is nice to meet you both. And thank you for your generosity. I should have had a meal before coming down - I forgot how long the trip was." she admits with a small laugh as she tugs slightly on her scarf.
Julie ahs. "Well, glad you came out, anyway. When they finish this place there'll probably be food and awl when the pros come out, anyway. Meanwhile the owners're trying to get a name for the place, keep us all off of the street and all. Roads are getting kinda crowded around here so it ought to go over pretty big."
as the drag racing would be about to begin and the sounds of engines pretty much everywhere can be heard, Robbie Reyes arrives in his '63 Dodge Charger, that engine was -purring-, and likely Harlem could hear that engine. He wears his signature leather jacket, though this time with a grey hoodie underneath to stay nice and toasty. He pulls up to a nice parking spot and goes to sign up for the races! He wanted to see if his driving skills were still -that- good. Otherwise, he keeps his hands in his pockets, lookin' like your average joe.
Funny enough, there's at least some form of technical inspection going on here, at least pretending to be official-ish, despite the setting at the incomplete dragway. Dizzy begs off from her current company, though, at signs of new arrivals in line, taking up a trusty angle-headed military surplus flashlight before going on over that way to join whoever else might not be goofing off there as another pair of cars make a noisy run.
After signing up, Robbie would simply lean against his ride, cold black eyes gaze around while a gentle smile greets new faces. He doesnt seem like hes too actively attentive to things, but every now and then he does turn his head like he heard something sudden, but he just rubs the side of his head and keeps an eye out. He does wave at Dizzy once he sees her, seeing a face he recognizes. "Hola Dizzy." he would greet from a distance.
Well…this must be the place.
The car that rolls up to the entrance of the Drag Way is wearing a shade of red that is distinctive. Candy-apple red. Fire-Engine Red. Officer-Please-Pull-Me-Over-For-ANYTHING Red. Add that to the fact that this is a 1963 Chevrolet Corvette Sting Ray, and it qualifies as a very special car. The driver peers out at the gathering of people and vehicles and looks for a place to park. She rolls into the parking spot, then kills the engine and steps out of the car, popping the hood to prop it up.
Julie ohs, after a bit of a blank moment, and heys to Robbie. "So you got something with four wheels after all." Glances the Dodge over briefly. "Coronet's not a bad choice with the right mill, we just gotta look things over for safety, don't want no one cracking up before they really open this place or anything." She ducks a bit to shine that light underneath. Checking for any big leaks. The back of *her* leather's got some rather worn stencilling of angel wings and a cartoonish logo of an oldish militaryhelicopter with big smoking tires and the legend 'Angelo's Speed And Aviation' on the back. Likely what she's doing now is how it got so worn-looking, really. She smiles as she looks up, "Well, you ain't leaking nothing, at least yet." Holds up a hand in case Robbie wants to help her up, but she'll doubtless pop up anyway. "You run this girl before?" She hrms, as the girl in the red Vette pulls up. Gives a wave that way. "Ay, Gwen!"
Crossing his arms lightly when Julie initially approaches, Robbie Reyes gives her a small nod and a friendly smile. "Sure, go ahead and check it out." he knew that rig too well for anything to be missing or damaged…besides, the Hellcharger has to stay in top condition!….right? and when Julie finishes her search, Robbie does lower a hand to help her back up. Thank the lord he was given manners as a child. His leather jacket has that…kinda cool upside down white U on it, and that's about it in terms of decal. "This track? not yet. I plan on it though." he shrugs, before Julie greets Qwen, and to be friendly Robbie waves at her too.
Gwen smiled to Julie, a warm smile that could almost erase the memory of how she looked earlier. When Julie had asked her about Ray.
Almost.
She sidled around another vehicle, making her way towards Julie and Robbie. "Hey, there. I…decided to take you up on the invitation." She looked around. "Not a bad turnout."
Julie smiles. "Yeah, just maybe me, too, if I don't have to be big sister around here too much." Smiles to Gwen, "Well, glad you made it. That thing ain't pulling either direction on the highway, is it? We don't want you going off the strip or nothing."
Robbie smiled faintly to Gwen as she approached, giving her a warm smile all the while "Hola. May I ask your name? My names Robbie." He says with an extend of his hand for a handshake.
Gwen extended her hand for a handshake. "Name's Gwen. Julie invited me to the party. I'm not up on dragging, but I'm a quick study. And no, I checked after putting the wheel on. You can practically have a cup of coffee if you get on a straightaway, because that runs as straight as an Irish beat cop."
Julie nods. "Awright, we'll let the boys check you out. There's a lotta heats ahead of youse so you could meet some people, meanwhile." She nods back to a line of cars where her own Nomad is. "Remember where I told you I got *my* engine and stuff, those Stingrays'll get light in the tail if you push too hard."
Reyes nods a few times to Gwen, smirking only a little faintly when she cd. Leaning up off his car, he opens the door and takes a seat inside, occasionally turning his head like one would a whisper. But eventually, he smiled "I'll be racing some of the heats, dunno if I'll win any, but hey, what's life without a little risk".