Daryl: Is it love - The original story (Game walk through)

Chapter one part one

Ah, New York! If I'd ever been told I'd live here, I would never have believed it. And yet, everything here is inspiring. Central Park, the sidewalk vendors, the almost constant throng, the eclectic and vibrant neighbourhoods. I even find myself enjoying the constant excitement here. Though I don't have much choice.

I have to take my dog out. He deserves some of my time. His name is Cacao. Cacao and I have a special connection. Something that can't be explained. I saw his cute little face, and something happened. Something strange. Since then, he and I have lived together in my little studio. His companionship reminds me of what a good choice I made bringing him with me. Two solitary souls well set up for a journey together with no quarrelling or ignoring each other like all the couples I know. Cacao is a French bulldog. With a stocky and powerful physique that make him look like a bad-ass dog. In fact, he is super cuddly and loves to play. His great passion is to chase his tennis ball for hours in Central Park. I have plenty of time, as usual. I look at Cacao, who says a lot about my motivation and, after stroking him, I leave the apartment and head out onto the crowded city streets. What I love about New York, after all those handsome suits and ties that go to conquer Wall Street, are the beautiful cars. What I like best of all is racing cars. The rest don't really get me excited.

I grew up with a father addicted to mechanics. A true purist. In the dead-end district I lived in, there wasn't much to do. So, we spent our time bent over car engines. I still remember my mother's face when she used to see the three of us on Sunday afternoons tinkering, with the station wagon engine. My little brother Jason, my father and I, would all come home covered in motor oil and grease. But we had such a great time. I have wonderful memories. It all seems so far away now. The love of beautiful cars is a family heritage we all share, just like the dimples on our cheeks when we smile. Jason and I have always been very close. Really tight. He's my little protégé. The proof is that as soon as I moved to New York, he left home to come and join me. Of course, he has his apartment, his friends and his life. But he knows I'm not a far away if needed, and that makes all the difference. Besides, I haven't heard from him in two days, which for us in an eternity.

Suddenly, I hear a shrill scream mingled with a squeal of tires, and I look up faster than a lightning bolt. A car is hurtling towards me! I leap away a bit wildly and put my hand on my chest, shocked. The car ends up grinding to a halt two millimetres from my feet. I curse and swear at the driver of the car to the top of my lungs. I clench my teeth, horrified by what has just happened. Then I look up, determined to really have a go at the driver. And am mesmerized by the car that jumps into view. I can't believe my eyes, it can't be true. In front of me is a true jewel. A bright red Lamborghini Aventador. A killer. V12 engine, I presume. This vehicle goes from 0 to 100 km/h in three seconds max. And it's not entry level. An S Roadster. Well, I never expected this. If I had the choice to die under the wheels of a car, this is the one I would have chosen. My eyes stay glued to the gleaming brand-new beast, stunned. Never in a million years did I ever think I'd see this kind of sports car in the heart of New York City. It's very rare to come across one like this.

I come out of my daze and focus on what just happened. How can you own a car like this and drive like that? As I gradually regain my senses, the car suddenly backs up in a squeal of tires. I can see the driver turning the steering wheel, and I hear the engine roar. Is this a joke? Tell me I'm dreaming. He's not going to take off like that when he almost ran me over? My blood begins to boil. I stand in front of the bumper and hit the hood. And too bad for the other drivers who are getting impatient and honking their horns. He's gonna hear what I have to say! He honks his horn and makes his engine roar. Apparently, he's not happy either. I am not budging an inch, and if he opens his mouth, it'll meet my shoe.

> What's the matter with you?! What exactly are you doing?!

Another roar. Much less aggressive than the previous one.