A failed attempt (literally) at a prompt request... for onewaddikt

Read the finished sequel-drabble (here)

 

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Light-gray hues from the cumulus clouds partially shielding brilliant blue skies, rolling slowly off into the horizon with the subtle warmth coloring the breeze. Sparkling sunlight beams through the tall windows and onto the polished wood table where powders and wires are resting. With a clip of his scissors, his creation renders itself finished. A small click as he seals it shut.

 

Adoration and excitement swirl through his features as he holds the device up to the light with his pointer finger and thumb, the object no more than the size of a grain of rice.

 

“Happy birthday, 62104,” he cooes.

 

☢

 

Limbs poking through bed sheets and the sands of a wonderland encase him in a sheen of unconsciousness. Even with the screeching call of the doorbell bouncing along the walls, he is still motionless, the even sound of breathing brushing the pillows. The doorbell ceases its invasion and, instead, his phone starts its attack. This lulls him out of his peaceful state as he takes a deep breath of reality, arm lazily fumbling on his bedside table for the electronic.

 

“Hello?” Kai rasps groggily, eyes still sealed shut, tempting him to fall back onto their cushions of dreams.

 

“Open your door!” comes the irritated shriek that he recognizes despite his sleepiness. Yawning, he slides out of bed and drags his feet across the floor to swing the door open. “Finally!” fumes his guest as he pushes his way past him and into the house. He closes the door and his friend turns to look him from head-to-toe. “You should put some clothes on. Nobody wants to see your shlong,” his friend comments, noting the lone piece of clothing on his body.

 

“My house, my rules,” he replies, slightly more awake now and glancing down at his boxer-briefs. “What are you doing here anyway, Luhan?”

 

“Did you finish the Chevy yet?” the other man hedges, walking further into the house and into the kitchen to set down his grocery bags.

 

“The C6 or the Cruze?” He’s got a really bad feeling about this but the sight of what looks like the start of a home-cooked meal has him distracted.

 

“The little red one. The Cruze,” Luhan singsongs, chopping vegetables expertly.

 

“It took all night but I finished it-- Wait.” And Kai eyes his friend rather suspiciously but only receives a puppy-dog look in return.

 

“Please?” comes the begging and shiny eyes.

 

“No. I am not lending it to you to race tonight. Remember when you borrowed that green Scion tC? I spent forever on those 400cc/min injectors and you just smashed it up against a brick wall! A ing brick wall, Luhan!” Kai protests loudly, voice reverberating throughout the walls and bouncing back.

 

Luhan pouts at this, pretty lips quivering as his hand disappears into a grocery bag and unearths a package of meat. “Authentic Kobe beef,” he whispers as he sees his target staring at the meat in awe.

 

Kai contains himself, his lips as he rips his eyes away from the delicious product. “No.”

 

“What if I throw in an Audi R8?”

 

Now this really has Kai’s ears perked and his mouth watering in excitement. His lips draw themselves into a hard line as he contemplates this offer. “Why the heck don’t you just race that, then?”

 

“It needs a little tune-up and you know I don’t have the patience for that kind of thing.” Noticing his hesitation, Luhan baits his line a bit more. “Snowy white, your favorite.” Kai fingers start clenching and unclenching themselves so, Luhan goes in for the kill. “Zero to one-hundred kilometers in 4.4 seconds.”

 

“Done.”

 

☢

 

His burning cheek skids across the pavement, friction from the gravel dragging his cells to a rough halt. He spits out the bit of metallic blood flowing onto his tongue from a cut where he bit the inside of his mouth.

 

“Don’t let me catch you checking out my girl ever again,” warns his opponent as he pulls a pistol from his pocket, watching as Kyungsoo gets up from the ground.

 

One look at the firearm and Kyungsoo smirks. Beretta M9, semi-automatic, 9mm. He his lips as he dusts himself off, trying hard not to chuckle at the man who just beat him into the ground. “What’s so funny?” the hulking man asks, noticing Kyungsoo’s less-than-intimidated form getting closer and closer to him. “Hey! Don’t make me shoo--”

 

And with a whip of his hands, Kyungsoo dismantles the pistol, deft fingers expertly sliding it apart in a matter of seconds. He grins as he tosses the parts onto the ground. “Careful children, firearms are dangerous,” he mocks. He takes a few steps away before turning back to his absolutely frightened test subject.

 

“By the way, thank you for donating yourself to science,” he whispers, wicked smile on his lips.

 

☢

 

The truth is that Kyungsoo couldn’t care less about that idiot’s equally-stupid, plastic-looking girlfriend. One step out of his car and he immediately started skimming the crowd for the biggest menace to society; someone the world would toss at him, urging him to kill it before it reproduced.

 

And that’s exactly what he plans to do.

 

But, he’ll leave that job to his baby, 62104.

 

Kyungsoo grins again when he thinks of his precious new creation; a lovely nano-thermite bomb he spent days putting together. He applies a bandage to his cheek and wipes his face clean, seeing his body as a small sacrifice in the pursuit of what he calls science. With an absolutely thrilled sigh, he coaxes his sleek, black Maserati GranTurismo S into a crawl towards the throngs of people waiting for the car race to begin.

 

☢

 

Kai lets out an appreciative wolf whistle when he sees the Maserati. A 434-horsepower monster, he thinks, his lips. He rakes its owner from head-to-toe as he sees him exit the vehicle, no doubt signing up for the upcoming races. He sits up from his spot on the hood of his own black Camaro, interest flowing through him from all directions. Smoking hot car just like its owner.

 

“Hey there,” the race proprietor, Jongdae, croons when Kyungsoo approaches.

 

“Hi,” Kyungsoo greets, tilting his chin downwards slightly to denote a cuter appearance.

 

“New on the streets? Haven’t seen you around before,” Jongdae inquires. He spots a small patch of dirt on Kyungsoo’s sleeve cuff. “Let me get that for you.” He wipes it slowly but his fingers linger, trying to capture him with his bedroom eyes.

 

Kyungsoo’s lips curve to the right, a half-smile at the invitation. Too bad he’s not his type. He slides his wrist away. “How much to get started?”

 

Jongdae breathes a heavy sigh through his nose at the rejection. “Everyone pays a base registration fee. If you’re racing one-on-one or a sprint, I get 5% of the total amount betted. But, if you’re racing for pink slips, you keep everything.”

 

“Pink slips?”

 

Jongdae laughs a bit. “Sorry, babe. Forgot you’re new. Means the winner takes the loser’s car.”

 

Kyungsoo ponders this for a moment, unsure which race he should sign up for. Then, he spots his target from earlier in the crowd and smiles. “Do you see that man over there in the green and blue jacket?”

 

Jongdae glances behind him. “Yeah?”

 

“I want to sign up for whatever race he’s in.”

 

☢

 

“You-- idiot!”

 

Luhan whimpers, cringing against the Camaro in hopes that Kai won’t throw a punch at him in case he splatters blood all over his precious baby. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles weakly.

 

“Sorry? You’re sorry? You let him take my car and now you’re sorry?” Kai spits, jabbing a finger at his friend. “You’re so stupid! Why would you race for pink slips in my car?”

 

Luhan frowns, bottom lip quivering. “I wanted to impress someone,” he mutters under his breath, hoping that Kai wouldn’t hear. “And maybe win a car for you,” he adds, a little louder.

 

Kai groans, hands running through his hair in frustration. He backs away from the other man a bit to control his anger. “That--” he starts again, “that car had the iest leather I’ve ever sat in,” he whines, mourning his loss. “Who’d you lose to? I’m going to get it back.”

 

“That guy.” Luhan points to the guy in the green and blue jacket.

 

Kai stalks over to the new owner of his cherry-red vehicle and tries not to punch him in the face for letting his girlfriend in high-heels put her feet up on his paint job. “Hey.”

 

“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Notorious himself. What can I do for you, my man?”

“Look, this is actually my car but my idiot friend was racing it earlier. You’re racing in the sprint later, right? How about we make a deal?” Kai offers, continually glancing over at the high heels.