Thread: Driven Between Sun and Moon [Damon and driven]

td Kurt's phone rang with its customary tone, filling the air with the first notes of a heavy metal song. A click of the button swiftly dispatched the tune away, as the lycan put his mouth to the speaker. Volkov speaking , he growled in a low tone into the phone. Hey, bro, it's Jack! Wanna hang out tonight? There's a friend of mine coming to town tonight, and man! You gotta meet her, she's just like you! Won't spoil the surprise for you, though, so if you want to know more, you'd better come to Isla Pandora! , the man at the other side of the line claimed, trying to keep the mystery as a leverage over Kurt's head. Kurt was, after all, not one of the most sociable individuals around. He was a man of few words, as he defended that actions showed the true mettle of a person. Rather than speaking, he preferred to go ahead and show others how things should be done rather than socialising with others, he preferred to do things on his own. This was the exact reason why he got the epithet of 'Lone Wolf' by most of his friends, which actually struck rather close to the truth. Most of his acquaintances, however, were blissfully oblivious to Kurt's true personality and nature, and he expected things to continue like that. He wasn't one to let others get too close to his comfort zone. Yeah, yeah. I'll show up. Eight-thirty? , he asked back. Sounds good, my man! See you at eight-thirty, bro! We're gonna get wasted tonight, mark my words! , Jack replied a bit too enthusiastically for Volkov's taste. With a brief growl of dissatisfaction and a succinct farewell, Kurt turned off the phone and began getting ready for the event. The lycan walked to his closet and pondered for a brief moment on what he should wear for this night - after all, despite not being a social person, he also did not want to run the risk of making a bad first impression on whoever the unknown woman was. Kurt settled down for a white shirt that clearly revealed his muscles underneath, a pair of stonewashed jeans pants and a hefty black leather jacket that completed the whole 'outlaw young spirit' kind of outfit. Satisfied with the result, he sprayed a dash of his perfume against the surface of his neck rather faintly, as strong smells commonly annoyed him to no end. When he was all set for the evening, he grabbed the key to his white BMW i8 and stepped out of the door. Despite his car, Kurt was not actually a person of rich ascent. He lived in a very modest house and worked a series of oddjobs here and there to get extra money still, his car was his most prized possession, to the point that he would easily spend three whole months of his earnings just to substitute the current turbocharger for a better model. With hope, however, his financial situation would change. Kurt had met Jack when attending some reunions of the street racing clubs, and his friend told him that he could arrange an opening in the next competition that was about to happen. The prize was not a huge amount of money, but Kurt was fully aware that winning would begin to pave his path to notoriety - fame can be as important, if not more, as money. The male opened the door to his vehicle and slung his body over the leather seat, taking in the smell and the texture of being in his own element. Kurt felt alive every time he entered in his own machine, as if it was an extension of his limbs. The car and the lycan, they were interchangeable they were symbiotic hunters that rushed into the night. With a prodding of his foot, the accelerator was pushed and the engine began roaring loudly as a predator that had been unleashed - he stuck his foot to the gas and began marching from gear to gear as the needle of the tachometer bounced up and down in the blink of an eye. Luckily so, Volkov's house was located on the outskirts of the town, right next to a highway. This allowed him to let his car race down the path to the city in whichever ways he seemed fit, without getting tickets too frequently for speeding. His car dashed through the road and into the entrance of the city, signalling that the speed for that way was 40 miles per hour. Reluctantly, Kurt nudged his brakes and lowered the speed to a measly 50 miles per hour, knowing that no one would ever stay in the way of his car. They never did. At last, the visage of the bar appeared through the windshield - Volkov looked at the clock and saw that only 14 minutes had passed from his departure to his arrival, which granted him more than enough time to find a parking space in the vicinity. After circling the block twice, a space opened and he forced his way into the slot, with no regard for anyone else. That spot was his. Kurt stepped out of the car and locked it, taking the steps into the rendezvous point that was previously scheduled. He was a little ahead of schedule, but Jack seemed to be more prompt than him nonetheless the colleague's right hand shot in the air to indicate the booth that he was currently occupying. Hey, if it isn't Kay, the man of the hour! How you holding up, bro? , Jack asked in a tone that seemed too excited for Kurt to register. The lycan could only emit a low growl of dissatisfaction as he bumped fists with his friend. Told you to not call me this way, but it seems like asking you never works. I think you promised someone else would be with us tonight, though? , Volkov asked in return, looking around to see if anyone else was nearby. Yeah, about that, I kinda forgot to tell you that I invited you over before her arrival. We both know that you're an ass before you've had a drink, and I don't want you to screw up your chances before you begin talking to each other. You're welcome , Jack replied with a too-satisfied smirk, which elicited a rare short smile from Kurt's lips. The man ordered a shot of whiskey and began talking to Jack, awaiting for the arrival of the friend that the colleague seemed to keep shrouded in such mystery. tdtd td