Jaws Of Fury

A Time Of Rest and Relaxation

The drive back to the shop was short. About ten minutes or so. On foot, it was nearly half an hour. Night had finally descended as Max parked his ride and we made our way to the inside. The parking lot was full of cars and bikes which meant that the shop was packed tonight. I could almost smell the booze and chaos from out here. As we entered the main area of the shop, I could feel the floor vibrating with bass as the party down below us went into full force. We made our way into Max's office on the main floor. He motioned for me to have a seat as he shut the door and made his way to his own seat behind his desk. He gave me a sly smile as he reached under the desk and came up with a fine crystal glass and a bottle of rum. He went down again and returned with a bottle of cola and some ice.

"Got a mini fridge under my desk. Just picked it up recently. Care for a drink?" he asked as he took off his leather jacket and scratched the stubble on his face.

"Sure. Why not?" I replied. "I don't have much going on for tomorrow. Let's get lit!" I continued.

"Sounds like a plan" he laughed as he retrieved a second glass from beneath his desk. "But before we go get ourselves pie eyed, I NEED to talk to you about the Triads. They have broken our rules. Word around town is they recently got a new boss. Wants to expand his territory and he doesn't care who he has to kill to get his way.  I need you and everybody else to keep your eyes peeled for any strange characters skulking about. I got a feeling they're gonna try to take us out.'. 

"I'll do my best..." I responded as I raised my glass in a toast.

" To gas and gunpowder." he cheered. "Live for one, die by the other and enjoy the smell of both!" 

"To gas and gunpowder!" I repeated as we clinked our glasses together and enjoyed our drinks.

"Alright!" he said. "Now let's go get wrecked!" as he tossed back the remainder of his drink in a single swig. 

"Great Idea." I said as I threw back the rest of my drink as well. "But I need my car keys. You still got em, right?"

"Absolutely! Here ya go!" he yelled as he tossed my keys to me from across the desk. 

"Thanks Max. I'll see you downstairs."

"Damn right you will!" he yelled as he made his way out of the office and towards the wild party going on down below. I stood up and made my way to my car which I had left just outside the shop. I wanted to take of my combat vest before I went down to the basement.  The last thing I needed was for someone to trip and take their eye out on the handle of my swords. I exited the building and hit the lock button twice on my key fob. I heard a honk a from a few meters down the road. My beloved mustang was parked on the street as it bathed in the illumination of a street light that was struggling to stay lit. I made my way over to my precious car and popped the trunk. I took off my vest and gently placed it next to the sawed off shotgun. The street light above me finally gave out as the light I was sitting disappeared. I cursed under my breath. Then I took the rest of my weapons off, leaving me completely unarmed except for a knife I always kept in my boot. I closed the trunk and unlocked the cab of the vehicle and as I opened the door, the interior lights came on, illuminating the seats and interior of the vehicle. It looked really good. The seats were high quality black leather, with red stitching. On the head rests was the mustang logo which was also in red stitching. I opened up the glove box and pulled out a set of knuckledusters. I had one for each hand and I gave them a quick inspection before sliding them into my right back pocket. I decided to wait for a moment and just sit and appreciate my beloved car. I closed the door and a few moments later, the inner lights timed out and shut off. I sighed happily as I slid my hand across the steering wheel. I loved this car, it was one of the only things in life that I truly cared about. It was already more than ten years old, but it had aged quite well. It was a companion to me, I treated it like a person would treat their beloved pet. It went to the mechanic's shop once a month for routine maintenance and inspection, it was fed only premium gas and it was never stored outside. I remembered the day that I brought it home. I was in need of a new car, my old vehicle : a beat up Dodge Charger, had finally given up. I was expecting it too. When I found it, it was destined to be turned into scrap metal. It had numerous problems with the transmission and the compression in it's cylinders was utter crap along with a multitude of other problems. So when the car finally gave up, I sold the old road monster for scrap and began the search for my new car. It didn't take long after browsing the internet that the mustang caught my eye.  It was for sale by the owner, a married man in his thirties that had been laid off and was in desperate need for cash to support his family. After I contacted him, I made my way up to his address through public transit. The ride there was long and tedious. As I neared the location, the sun went away and it began to rain gently. When I finally arrived I saw what would soon become my most valued possession. The deal went off without a hitch as I went home with my new car and the seller went back into his house ten thousand dollars richer. The car was in fantastic shape. It had never been neglected in it's life but it was missing something. It was a little weak under the hood. The engine and every other part of it was stock. Not to mention the engine was a V6 and was lacking the serious power that I wanted. There was going to be multiple changes that needed to be made if this car was going to be made into the ferocious beast that it would later become. I started pulling many contracts right away. I did everything from assassinations, to arson, to robberies. I did damn near anything and everything to get my mustang the upgrades it deserved. I remember doing four separate jobs in a single day and barely making it to my bed before I collapsed of sheer exhaustion.  Four rough up jobs in one day was a lot. Essentially, a rough up job was finding the target and beating them up for the client. There was no killing allowed and no weapons unless the target was armed, in which case you could match the armaments. So if your target was carrying a club or bludgeon, you were allowed a bludgeon and nothing else. I remembered the last job of the week  being the worst because of it being in an underground, illegal fight club. The guy running the joint owned a boxing gym and was offering top dollar for anyone that could beat his champion. I'd also get the contract money because the wife of the champion found out he was being unfaithful. So the prize money would be twenty thousand dollars and the contract money would be twelve thousand dollars for a grand total of thirty two thousand dollars. Enough to finish upgrades on the car and still have enough to spend on other matters. It was really stormy that night as I pulled up to the address. Thunder boomed and lightning streaked across the sky, lighting up the night. I knocked on the door and was intercepted by a large burly man with a thick beard and heavy English accent.