The Zombie Man
Notes: the idea for Max came from episode 2 of RWBY when a shadow man walks behind yang looking like a zombie.
p.s. Dear reader this is my first attempt at a fanfic but I hope you like it. The goal is to help explain a lot of smaller details left out by Monty. Hopefully my variation makes sense.
comments appreciated
Gold…..
Only such a color can raise many thoughts and feelings, or the illusion of feelings.
The cool spring air fills my lungs as I sit contentedly upon the roof, sitting relaxed and seemingly at peace for the first time in quite a while. Soft purples and golds fill my vision as I sit on the roof of my dorm watching the sunset, with memories of the last few months filling my mind.
The sound of an idling V8 is a symphony to my ears. The sound of forced induction slipping through straight pipes, and the smell of burning tires. I sit on the hood of my car relaxed and anything but out of place. As a faunus most people would treat me poorly, however I had earned my reputation here and no one would act out of sorts around me. I take my feet and pull a rag from my back pocket before running it over the paint and the chrome scoop protruding from the hood. My ears swivel around, listening to the sounds of nightlife in the industrial district of Vale. I hear shouts and the sound of revving engines and the latest hip-hop blasting from built sound systems. The chrome scoop shines brilliantly under the yellow lights causing the whole car to have an amber hue, and I step back to look lovingly at my car, a 1957 leb-air wagon. The chrome trim stretching forever along the side separating at the slender fins, and surrounded by cherry red paint. If it wasn’t for the chrome super charger and scoop sitting out from under the hood, the car would almost look like an old grandpa car. That and the massive exhaust pipes coming out from behind the front wheel. As I stand happily admiring my car I hear a voice off to the left shouting my name. “MAX….MAX.” yells a guy. He seemed in his early to mid 20’s, and he runs up to me a little out of breath. “Hey Max some lady over there is looking for a challenge, and we all thought you would be perfect, plus it’s been a while since you burned a few tires. What do you say? Wanna race her?” I look to him and back to my car, without looking back I ask him. “What’s she driving?” I didn’t need to see him to notice him get a little nervous. “Well she’s on a bike for starters. And it looks mean, I’m sure it’s modified.” I nod and finally turn back to him. “What are you waiting for? Let’s have a good race.”
My car lets loose a primal howl as I turn over the ignition and put it in first. I gently let the clutch up from the floor but even with no throttle the tires bark. I let the car coast through the gathering of cars and watch as people turn to look in my direction. It has indeed been far too long since I let loose on these streets, but tonight seems special, as if its my fate. I round a small corner to see a beauitiful woman leaning on a bright yellow bike, that I can assume is hers. The woman was dressed casually with a hint of badass biker, she had a brown leather jacket, a yellow tank top with 40 pounds of breast squeezed in, matching knee high boots with orange socks, an orange scarf wrapped lazily around her neck, long blonde hair that falls down her back, and she wore a brown leather belt, with a half skirt cut at an angle along soft blue fabric. And not-so-short shorts connecting legs that never seem to end. As the rumble from my car grew closer she turned to look and even through the wind shield we made eye contact. Lilac meeting emerald. I pull up beside her and step out of my car. I gently close the door before I turn to her. We stand there for a few seconds before I speak. “Nice bike.” Ok I know not a great start but I’m not trying to impress her. “She nods “Nice car.” She says. Ok not any better, seems her and I prefer to let actions talk. “So you came to race tonight? Or just show off that bike?”
