A/N: In this chapter in particular I refer to several places in and around Detroit as a way of setting up the setting. I recommend you look at a map of the Detroit metro area to understand some of what I'm talking about. Saint Clair Shores and Hamtramck are both suburbs(ish) of Detroit, the Renaissance Center (RenCen, in Detroit vernacular) is the headquarters of General Motors, and the Woodward Dream Cruise is a yearly event held every August (look it up on Wikipedia to get the general idea). With that said, enjoy the first chapter.:D
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Damn, I love this car so freckin' much...
Eren Jaeger gave a fiendish grin to the driver in the opposite lane. The bastard gave him the satisfaction of looking sufficiently punked out at the sight. Not that Eren much cared, of course. This was what he lived for: to satisfy his addiction to speed.
Of course, the only thing wrong with the picture was the setting. He much rather preferred his usual haunts on Woodward Avenue (he'd even taken part in a couple Woodward Dream Cruises), Gratiot Avenue--especially by the Renaissance Center, and that whole stretch of asphalt monstrosity known by all as 8 Mile Road (he didn't give a shit about Eminem, though). But lately the black-and-white doughnut-scarfing pigs on wheels were much more vigilant on those roads. This left the organizers of this particular race--the so-called "Million Dollar Showdown" (where they'd gotten all that cash Eren cared not at all)--to hold it here, in this shitty little neighborhood called Saint Clair Shores. Damn coppers. Eren was unfamiliar with this area, so that could potentially work against him.
His braniac mechanic/best friend Armin Arlert, however, knew the area intimately, seeing he used to live there before moving to Hamtramck. So in a way that was an advantage. And Armin was the one who helped Eren turn this, his dad's old 1970 Dodge Challenger R/T, into the thoroughbred stallion and weapon of choice for events like this. The turquoise and black-striped Challenger was, if anything, Eren's ultimate asset. His baby, as his adopted sister Mikasa Ackerman put it (ever so bluntly, of course). Admittedly he did treat the car the same way he'd treat a two-week-old human baby, but Mikasa just didn't get the bond a man has with his car.
Ah, but of course. His mind had inadvertently wandered off on a rabbit trail. Now was the time he needed to focus on the task at hand. And that, currently, was keeping an eye out for the green light.
"Oi, Shitface Jaeger!"
He snarled in visible annoyance, already knowing who the asshole was.
"Go to hell, horseface!"
