Sierra-Alpha
An incredibly sensitive instrument.
Ford LΓ©andre
Location: The stands.
Status: Standing by.
The mechanic continued to lean against the railing as the two strangers, appearing to know each other, began to reacquaint themselves. Though, judging by the unwanted's sneer and harsh tone, these two probably weren't on the greatest of terms. Naturally, Ford wasn't looking forward to standing between a bitter argument, and before the shorter one could make his rebuke, he spoke up. "Come on now, we're here to enjoy ourselves, right? I'm sure there's another time... where..."
Ford's spiel gradually came to a stop; his eyes began to dart around the curiously quietening stands. The incessant clamor of the crowd rapidly dissipated as uncertain murmurs and jeers took its place. Ford released his grip on the railing as he whirled around to face the arena with a hope of finding the cause of such an anxious atmosphere. Almost as if by second-nature, the mechanic's vision snapped to his beloved creation, and his gaze was met with a fantastically brutal skirmish by two unknown assailants around the vehicle.
Judging from their appearances, those two clearly weren't participating in the derby. Dread filled the man's thoughts as he realized that they were likely after a different prize β something inside The Unstoppable.
Oh, fuck. Is this what she meant by bad business?
Ford, his hands returning to the railing with a tense grip, pondered over what exactly the driver did to warrant sending two killers of this caliber. An inquiry arose from the unwanted next to him, and he hastily replied to them. "No. No, I don't know who those people are. Fuck! What do I do?" he thought aloud.
Of course, the answer was simple: get the hell out of dodge. The statement was aptly punctuated by the startling impact of a bullet colliding with concrete less than a few feet away. An undecided staccato of gunfire reverberated throughout the stadium as drivers and audience alike made it clear that these interlopers were not welcome in the arena. As chaos waxed, Ford hastily turned to his two short-lived acquaintances. "I'm not stickin' around. You two shouldn't, either," he said as he stepped away, already in search of egress.
It seems many had the same idea as well, and a quick glance towards the exits revealed that they were positively swarming with masses desperate to escape the growing turmoil. Judging from the occasional scream erupting from the crowd, it wouldn't be the safest way to leave, either. Not a second later did the mechanic come up with an alternative: The Pit. At least there, it was probably safe, and given the popping of gunfire increasing in volume and quantity, he'd be able to think straight, too. Ford hurriedly began to make his way toward the dugout as he brashly parted the crowd, and a relatively unobstructed path was left in his wake.
Location: Heading towards the pit.
Status: Feeling like he has to do something.
Interactions: Stygis, Filch
Mentions: queanbean , Zedalith
Location: The stands.
Status: Standing by.
The mechanic continued to lean against the railing as the two strangers, appearing to know each other, began to reacquaint themselves. Though, judging by the unwanted's sneer and harsh tone, these two probably weren't on the greatest of terms. Naturally, Ford wasn't looking forward to standing between a bitter argument, and before the shorter one could make his rebuke, he spoke up. "Come on now, we're here to enjoy ourselves, right? I'm sure there's another time... where..."
Ford's spiel gradually came to a stop; his eyes began to dart around the curiously quietening stands. The incessant clamor of the crowd rapidly dissipated as uncertain murmurs and jeers took its place. Ford released his grip on the railing as he whirled around to face the arena with a hope of finding the cause of such an anxious atmosphere. Almost as if by second-nature, the mechanic's vision snapped to his beloved creation, and his gaze was met with a fantastically brutal skirmish by two unknown assailants around the vehicle.
Judging from their appearances, those two clearly weren't participating in the derby. Dread filled the man's thoughts as he realized that they were likely after a different prize β something inside The Unstoppable.
Oh, fuck. Is this what she meant by bad business?
Ford, his hands returning to the railing with a tense grip, pondered over what exactly the driver did to warrant sending two killers of this caliber. An inquiry arose from the unwanted next to him, and he hastily replied to them. "No. No, I don't know who those people are. Fuck! What do I do?" he thought aloud.
Of course, the answer was simple: get the hell out of dodge. The statement was aptly punctuated by the startling impact of a bullet colliding with concrete less than a few feet away. An undecided staccato of gunfire reverberated throughout the stadium as drivers and audience alike made it clear that these interlopers were not welcome in the arena. As chaos waxed, Ford hastily turned to his two short-lived acquaintances. "I'm not stickin' around. You two shouldn't, either," he said as he stepped away, already in search of egress.
It seems many had the same idea as well, and a quick glance towards the exits revealed that they were positively swarming with masses desperate to escape the growing turmoil. Judging from the occasional scream erupting from the crowd, it wouldn't be the safest way to leave, either. Not a second later did the mechanic come up with an alternative: The Pit. At least there, it was probably safe, and given the popping of gunfire increasing in volume and quantity, he'd be able to think straight, too. Ford hurriedly began to make his way toward the dugout as he brashly parted the crowd, and a relatively unobstructed path was left in his wake.
Location: Heading towards the pit.
Status: Feeling like he has to do something.
Interactions: Stygis, Filch
Mentions: queanbean , Zedalith