Racing Hearts - Blood and Steel

Chapter 4

The four cars looked at each other in confusion, expressing the fact that neither of them had a clue on what exactly was going on.
"Okay, so that was unusual." Jürgen stated, his different colored eyes following the red Corvette, that was heading towards two other vehicles parked at the other side of the parking lot. Thomas nodded, silently agreeing with what the white Volkswagen had pointed out. Yes, something was different about Clarence. Maybe the accident had changed him. Yet he was the only one who could pinpoint exactly what was going on here.
"I need to recall that here real quick. That Ford Fiesta wants to become a race car and Clarence is his mentor now?" Roger asked the group, feeling as if he was still in bed dreaming. But all this was no dream. It was the reality.
"Yeah that's exactly what he said." Jürgen answered the red Opel's question, shrugging at the absurdity of the actions of his friend. "I believe that we should trust him. I doubt that he would simply spend time training a car like this, without having a plan and without benefiting from it simultaneously. I think he knows what he's doing." The blue and white Volkswagen added to his former statement, supporting his friend's new goal.
Alex let out a sigh, "that's all we can hope for..."
But the Lancia Delta was quickly cut off by the dark blue Audi Quattro. "I don't know what happened on the racetrack between the two, but I have the feeling that he realized his racing days are counted for. Maybe he needs someone to step up into his position one day. Maybe he saw something in the young Ford that we do not."
"Maybe you're right, Thomas. And I just want to point this out real quick here. But we all have to remember that we all started somewhere. The Ford has a good mentor, he'll make it." Jürgen added as a remark. Reminding the other cars of their early beginnings as race cars. Every single one of them started out inexperienced and gullible. Believing that simply by being fast they could win a competition. This however turned out not to be the case. It takes the right times, strength, endurance and much more than just speed.
"Maybe he could train with us as well. He could learn from us and maybe he has some new ideas and techniques. Things we wouldn't even consider." The white Volkswagen then continued, looking from one car to another. But their reactions were quite hesitant. "Yeah maybe..." Alex replied, still not quite convinced.

Clarence made his way over to the two cars, parked in the shade of a big oak tree. The shapes slowly took form the closer he got. The smaller car was definitely a Corvette. A C3, just like Clarence was. Black and silver with tiny bits of red in color. He looked intimidating. Scars across his body, rust slowly feeding on his metal shell, leaving behind nasty stains and blisters, only being held together by a couple strips of tape. A smile on his dry, metal lips. A nasty grin, exposing his sharp, yellowed teeth. Some of which were already missing, leaving gaping holes in his rows of teeth. Others had already been replaced by implants made of gold. Shimmering in the golden sunlight.
His mossy green eyes resting on the red Corvette. Well at least the right eye focusing the vehicle getting closer. The right one being pale in color, lifeless, indicating that the black Corvette was half blind.
Clarence' eyes widened when he was standing just a few meters away from the black sports car.
"Oh my little cousin, long time no see! How's it going?" The other Corvette addressed Clarence, with an unexpected friendliness in his voice. Apparently he was related to the red one.
Fuck, not him. Everyone but him! The red Corvette thought to himself, letting out a stressed sigh before he answered the other car.
"Clint, what are you doing here?" Was the first thing that came from his mouth, eyeing his cousin with a critical stare. Watching the even slightest move he did. He clearly didn't trust his relative.
"Well you called us last night. Said you needed help with something and since we were around, we thought we'd come over." Clint replied in a calm manner. Too calm for Clarence' taste. It didn't quite fit the black Corvette's appearance. There was something eerie about his behavior. The way he was parked in front of him, the way he talked and of course the fact that Clarence couldn't remember calling his cousin.
A call? He must have been way too drunk yesterday. His cousin was the last car he wanted to see right now.
"Fuck, what was I thinking?!" He mumbled softly, only so that he could hear it. His emerald green eyes facing the ground, then looking right back up at Clint and over at the other car. A green Ford Focus ST X.
The glances of both cars met, sending a shiver down the red Corvette's spine. If you'd thought that Clint already looked like someone you shouldn't mess with. You would have been absolutely correct.
But this Ford... he looked like the definition of trouble. His body, covered in large scars and tattoos. Staring back at Clarence with his bright red eyes, not even having to blink once.
The mouth of the Focus was crooked and hung slightly open. Twisted into a menacing grin.
"Who is that?" Clarence then asked, looking back at his cousin, who was more than willing to give his younger relative the answer.
"That's Lotto. He's my partner, we work together. I met him in Koblenz by coincidence. We ran into each other. He wanted to kill me, I wanted to kill him. We had our discrepancies but we found an agreement." The black and silver Corvette explained, introducing his partner, who just stood there, his eyes scanning his surroundings. Alert and always expecting danger.
"Wonderful, you two would make a great couple!" The red vehicle joked nervously, yet neither of the other two laughed.
Working pals... just wonderful. I know what you do for a living, Clint! And I wouldn't call it "work" like you do. Clarence thought to himself. Another shiver running down his spine as he thought about the heinous crimes Clint had committed throughout his life in exchange for money. After all these years things had only gotten worse. And Clarence doubted that his cousin's new partner was any better.
He pushed the thoughts aside. Not wanting to waste anymore time imagining the gruesome acts both of them could have committed.
"What do you need our help with?" Clint then asked out of a sudden, ripping his cousin away from his thoughts. It took the red Corvette a moment to think of the right words. He didn't even know why he had called his cousin in the first place. The race? Yeah that must have been it. Clint was a former racer after all, who had suffered a similar fate. A terrible accident on a highway that forced him to quit racing altogether. After that Clint spiraled down into a state of depression. Smoking, drinking, doing drugs and spending all of his money left and right, going into debt. Debt he couldn't pay off, especially without a job. They took his home, his belongings, everything from him. Yet it wasn't enough to cover the money he owed the banks.
Clarence didn't know every detail about Clint's story, but at some point he believed that his cousin started to work for a shady car. Someone named Jesco. Who apparently owned a junkyard. Mainly to cover up the illegal businesses he was involved in. Selling guns, drugs and even organs on the black market. And Clint worked for him. One time when Clarence came over for a visit, he opened the fridge to get himself a beer and there it was... the heart of a car, fresh and bloody, laying on a porcelain plate in between bottles of Hachenburger beer and blocks of cheese.
Clint admitted that he had killed the car the heart belonged to. Well not just one car but multiple. That's when Clarence decided to cut all ties with his cousin.
He should have called the police that day, but he didn't. Why? The red Corvette had no clue. Maybe he was still in shock and couldn't quite grasp what he had witnessed.
Then some time later he found out that Clint was on the run. Yet it wasn't just the police chasing him, but Jesco's gang members as well. He had fucked his boss over. Now he was free. No one telling him what to do and what not to do. It was his life. If he needed something, he simply took it. If someone was threatening him, he beat him to death. But Clint still put family first, even after all the years of silence, willing to help his cousin.
Clarence still couldn't pinpoint on how Clint could help him in any way or form with the upcoming competition but since he was here already it would be rude to just send him back home. Wherever that may be.
Probably the red Corvette was also fearing a potential death. Getting shot or even worse his throat cut. God he hated himself for calling him last night.
"I want to get back into professional racing. That's why I need your help." Clarence said, finally spitting out the things that had been on his mind and he wanted to punch himself in the face for his own stupidity. No, he clearly didn't want two murderers on his side.
"Yeah I thought so. Don't worry we'll help you out, little cousin. If you need something, we can get it for you. If you need your competitors to vanish without a trace... just buy us a beer and we gladly accept your request." The black Corvette returned the statement, with Clarence' sigh in return not going unnoticed. "Yes and I'm grateful for it. But please promise me to leave my friends alone, will you?"
Clint glanced over to his partner, who nodded in return.
"We would never lay a tire on them, don't worry." The older Corvette answered in this eerie calmness.
"Good." Was everything the red Corvette could say. The presence of these two monsters made him uncomfortable alone. The thought that they might hurt his friends was killing him.
His friends. Clarence turned around and spotted them off in the distance. He noticed that Erich... no wait, Erwin. Had joined the group of four. They were probably waiting for him.
"Speaking of which, I should probably get back to them." Clarence muttered with a shaky voice, hoping that his cousin and the Ford Focus would just stay here and keep their distance. But they clearly had other things in mind than to stay here, following him over to the small group.

The cars belonging to the red Corvette's friend group looked at the two battle hardened vehicles. Their eyes widened, some others giving the two more skeptical looks. All of them, except Erwin, knew Clint. Well, they were aware that he was Clarence' cousin, yet they weren't aware of the acts he had committed throughout his lifetime. All they knew was that the black Corvette was giving off this threatening feeling. Something that they all had noticed but couldn't describe.
It was a similar situation with the green Ford Focus ST X as well. Something menacing and hostile. No one dared to say anything.

Silence followed. An awkward silence. Then Jürgen rose to speak. "Well, I doubt we will have good chances to train in peace. What do you guys think about heading over to the restaurant and watch these cars do their thing on track?"
The group agreed. The only good thing about "idiot race day" was the free entertainment you got.
"Yeah, we could grab ourselves a snack, maybe a beer or two. Good idea! Let's go guys!" Thomas cheered in excitement, pressuring the group to start moving. But before even one of them could drive off a group if young BMWs passed by them.

"Look at these old fucks. The hell are they doing here?!" One of them bleated in a mocking manner, another BMW chiming in. "Yeah, looks like the retirement home allowed them to go on a trip."
Followed by laughter from their whole group. They obviously weren't from here. Otherwise they would have known the five race cars and would've at least kept their provoking thoughts to themselves.
"Ah yes, very funny you prick!" It was Erwin who stood up for the group, barking back at the BMWs. One of them snapped around almost immediately. Visibly angry because of the minor insult.
"What was that?!" The black car yelled, his own group coming to a halt and turning around, giving the silver Ford Fiesta dirty looks. "What did you just call me?"

"You're a prick. Yeah, that's exactly what you are!" Erwin said calmly, repeating his statement, not even seeming to be impressed at all.
"And you are a pathetic little Fiesta! Show some respect. I could beat you on the track at any given time. You're nothing and now apologize!" Spit flew through the air, the moment the BMW barked these words.

"So you are eager to race against one of us. Challenge accepted. Even though I'd say that you'd better choose someone your own size. Or are you afraid of losing?" It was Lotto who asked that question. The first time the green Ford spoke that day. He had a deep, croaky voice. Fitting him surprisingly well.
"Oh you wanna race, tough guy. Okay then, let's do this!" The black BMW grunted back at him.
And then there it was again. That crooked smile on Lotto's face. It became more and more obvious to the other cars that something was going on.
This wouldn't be a fair competition.
The two cars drove off. They had to get onto the track and into starting positions if they wanted to find out which one of them was the dominant one.
It was baffling to Clarence how oblivious the BMW must have been to the fact that this meant nothing but bad news.
Cars would get hurt. Blood would be spilled. He knew it. He could feel the tension. But he couldn't stop them.

"Come on! This is going to be good!" It was Clint who had raised his voice. Nodding towards the direction of the restaurant from which they could overlook parts of the racetrack. He knew as well that something bad was coming the BMW's way.