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I, the Author: I feel the need...


It was my first trip to the States and I didn't know what to expect. Things weren't going so well for me back home and I felt the best thing for me was to just vacate for a while, so vacate I did. I had gotten into trouble a while back, while behind the wheel in a legit race I became responsible for the death of my navigator, best mate and above all, my brother. While the accident reoccurred in my mind time after time the chargers inflicted on me by the law weren't enough to stop me for getting my travel Visa and head overseas while I attempted bury the past and find my place in the world anew.

My Visa soon expired and the plane was waiting to take me home, but I wasn't on it. I was enjoying the life I had just gotten started properly. So without a working Visa, I needed employment that would keep me off the grid. No bank accounts and no social security numbers. With my previous experience with working on cars it didn't take me long to snap up a decent cash paying job in a custom auto repairs and mods shop near the East Coast about a hundred miles north of the Mexican boarder, in a small town called Lamar. It was low key but it had a large dedicated clientele due to the excellent service as well as the under the counter kinds of work that most of the bigger auto chains would stray away from due to the repercussions they would have to deal with if caught out by the man. I guess that's why they didn't mind paying me in cash, and they payed well.

I had started to build some acquaintances through the auto shop though I usually kept to myself and out of trouble. The last thing I wanted was to be deported back home. Most of the people I got to know were young guns looking for export rides or parts which our shop excelled in. Many of them left the shop content, so it was only natural that we would see them again with a smile on their face and a few wads of cash in their hands. Being from Australia where the street racing scene was practically dead it never crossed my mind to think about what they were up to, but I was soon to find out.

I came in to the garage on a Sunday when nobody was in, to work on a ride I claimed. It came in as a wrecked BMW M3 GTR which everybody looked at with sorry eyes as if looking at a dying animal struggling for life but where most people saw a dead horse, I saw a sleeping Pegasus and I made it my personal mission to make it fly again. After months of my own personal time and money, it was where I wanted it to be. With the exterior and interior complete, all that it needed was to be driven in for the first REAL time.

I started the engine, it's rumble echoed in the garage, giving me goosebumps. I thought of putting some good tunes on but the thought quickly left my mind after listening to the music this car made as I put my foot down onto the accelerator in neutral. The remote garage door started to open as I rolled toward it, peaking the engine as I came to a stop. I was ready to throw it into first gear and send myself shooting onto the road when there, in the middle of the driveway, was this girl sitting in her hot red Mazda RX8.

My dreams of christening my new ride were quickly shattered however when I found out this AMAZING woman was an undercover police officer from the Rockport Police Department. Her name was Mia and she was quick to tell me that she has had her eye on me for some time, knows my history back home and is willing to grant me an extended Visa, maybe even permanent citizenship, if I agree to assist her in what she called the Rockport street racing lock down. I had to work my way into the heart of Rockport's top street racers known as the Black List 15, earn their trust through the rep I earn on the street and help Mia shut it down from the inside. Of course there was always more to it than what was first agreed upon. While I considered her offer quite appealing it quickly got a bad taste to it when she informed me that other authorities, including her own personal weren't to know of my involvement to avoid it leaking onto the streets. Which meant that it wasn't until I got the job done that she would vouch me a Green Card. This in turn left me with very few options to pick from;

1: Disagree, get deported
2: Agree, get caught by police, get deported.
3: Agree, all goes to plan, get some piece of mind knowing I did something good, possibly get deported.

None of these were great options but the latter proved to be the one with the most potential. So I agreed, closed up shop, explained to the boss I wouldn't be in for a while and left.This occurred just as I finished crossing the Lyndon B Johnson Causeway to enter Rockport:

I considered myself lucky and knew that if I was going to avoid the cops, I would need to get myself a navigator. Sure it seemed like a cheap way to ride in the underground, but having a wing man is better than finding myself in a situation where I would be getting bagged and tagged back to Australia. I got a long distance call card and used a public phone to contact my last and probably only good friend back home, Dish. He was stoked to hear from me and found the situation I was in to be quite humorous. Despite the fact he was stacking his chips for a new ride back home, he decided to put it on hold and fly up to assist me.

With Dish with me, I was able to relax and have a lot more fun with the whole endeavor. We worked our way up through the nobodies quite fast until it came time to race the first of the Black List racers, a smug prick named Razor, who, according to the word on the street, had been eying my car off for some time now. This was not good considering I had to put my ride on the line to race against a Black List racer. But it didn't worry me too much because Mia had also worked her way into the scene, but that wasn't hard for her to do with her amazing looks a persona. She was always in the background, watching over me and looking incredibly good in the process.

It was time to race Razor, and I was ready...or so I thought.

The race started off well enough, I had gotten the jump on him by letting him shift first and getting a good four meter lead. Traffic was an obstacle that would have been better off removed from the streets but I was always told by my brother that the obstacles can be used against others on the road. Razor had a lot more horse power in his ride, meaning that he could gain easily if given enough straight road to do so. I needed to keep him weaving to limit his throttle, thereby cutting off his chances of getting ahead of me. It was all going well, I had lost the lead in the industrial estate but regained in through the city run. I was coming to the final straight run and I knew this is where it would come down to a hairpin finish...but then my car started to stall, I quickly focused on my on-board computer to observe the problem but it was all going to shit. My ride came to a stop, Razor shot past me and through the finish line only a few hundred meters up.

I lost my ride and my rep, but I knew that they had messed with my car. Mia wasn't happy but she knew it wasn't my fault. So she hooked me up with a place to lye low.

I got myself a new ride and worked my way up the ranks with Dish, with each win I would attain a pink slip for a new ride that I would either keep for myself or sell off and use the money to mod my other rides. After months of paint swapping in street racers and write knuckle gripping during police pursuits I had built myself up to the number two spot on the Black List. Razor was all that stood between me and a citizenship in the U.S with the sweetest ride I had ever put together and the fact that he had it to get to where he is now, infuriated me.

The choice of race was up to me, and what better way to win back what was taken, then to succeed where I had once failed through no fault of my own. We went head to head on the same run I had previously lost my car in. On top of that, I figured it would only be justice if I was to knock him off the podium using the car he originally used to take mine. Everything played out as it did before, only this time it was to my advantage.

I knew the run, and I knew how to win...so win I did.

It was time for me to vacate. There was no way I could stick around here anymore, even with Mia vouching for me I wouldn't be able to drop the label of most hunted street racer around. After evading the 5.0, I stopped at the safehouse one last time. Mia was there, looking quite inviting...

So in the end, Mia and I shagged which was a reward on its own...words couldn't describe the things she could do with her tongue. In the end she couldn't get me a Green Card, not with all the shit I stirred up in the Rockport Police Department. We kept in touch and she came to Australia to visit me and in the end we got married anyway. So I was able to gain citizenship in the States the proper way after all.

Mia and I now work undercover for the L.A.P.D and are currently trying to break our way into a Street Racing syndicate known as the Midnight Club. I'll let you know how that one goes.

Keep in touch.
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About Samuel Dillingerone of us since 1:58 AM on 06.24.2008

Currently Playing:

...A lot of stuff

I like to fap...a lot.

I have been on Destructoid for a little and have grown to really love it's community. I love to write articles on gaming and I find it easy to do with Destructoid. I am currently studying a Bachelor Degree of Communication (Journalism), so that one day I can hope to do this professionally.

While studying I jump from job to job like crazy because I don't want to do anything but write, and while that may sound reckless, I assure you that I really couldn't live any other way if I tried.

I just want to say thanks to everybody involved with Destructoid including every reader, community blogger and contributor. It really is an amazing place in the digital, shit infested swamp lands of the internet.

I am a proud member of the Refused Classification panel also consisting of Destructoid members Puppy Licks and DanMazkin, which brings to the plate a fortnightly Destructoid only podcast and soon to be video content which will also be featuring guest appearances from gaming celebs such as the Masterchief.

I also write on Stereotoid; a weekly shift in the Earth's crust where the greatest music from all time seeps forth and pushes its way into our ears then forces us to write about it through mental fuckism. If you understood that, then well done.

P.S - One day I will write for Destructoid...That's right Niero! I'M COMING FOR YOU MOTHER FUCKER!
Mii code:[email protected]


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