Drive

Noodle watched Rider out of the corner of her eye.

This infernal routine was taking far, far too long. Their mutual favorite book series was being sold in a full set at the local bookstore, and they were wasting time making sure the new car was in order. For the third time. Noodle was fully aware that Rider despised cold weather just as much as she did, and knew that her Familiar was even more of a book fan, so she was understandably perplexed as to why this was taking so long.

A third adjustment to the rear-view mirror, a minute adjustment of the heater, and Rider sighed. Dressed in her casual wear - black sweater, dark jeans, glasses over her gray eyes - she was a picture of any normal person. And then, she laid her hand upon the gearshift, and her instinct as a Rider came alive. A spark danced between her and the vehicle, and it felt as if she held the reins to a horse's bridle. As she gently turned the ignition, and revved the engine, a fire lit up in her gut and quickly leaped out to course from her limbs. The car's engine was like a steed's heartbeat, its tires were positively pawing at the asphalt in anticipation, it was begging her to be pushed to its limits, to be forced to break those limits. Behind her glasses, Rider's eyes turned distant, filled with cold fire.

Noodle gave a quiet gulp. Wellp. It appeared that they were going to be making it to the sale with time to spare. "Um, Rider," she said quietly, "You ah, do recall the speed limit?" Rider looked at her quizzically. Oh no. Oh no no no. What had they said about this city in the brochures? Noodle quickly snatched one from beneath the seat whilst Rider entranced herself with the rumbling engine. The Speed City, Kayubargg! No Speed Limits - Nooooooo no no no no! "Rider, contain yourself - " Too late.

Rider grabbed the gearshift, and expertly put it in fifth. Only a woman possessed would use fifth gear in a city street, and it seemed that a woman possessed was exactly what Rider had just become. With no more warning, she floored the gas pedal, and the wheels screamed loudly. Or perhaps that was Noodle? All Noodle knew was that there was screaming, and smoke outside her window, and then, the world outside her window melted into streaks and blurs. Front-wheel drive, ten cylinders, pure octane sending them tearing down the street, and when the other drivers saw the gaze that Rider ran them through on, they parted the Red Sea and gave the hellion woman a wide berth.

In the end, no one died or was maimed on the way down to the bookstore. Somehow. When Noodle wobbled out of the car, sick and scared, Rider retrieved a rag - from who-knew-where - and began to wipe down the unmarred hood. Shaking her head clear, Noodle made her way in with the money in order.

What worried her was that now, Rider had become bonded to that car.

They were going to have to bring it with them when they left.

It was going to be so difficult to transport...

Rider hadn't spent much time in the modern world, but she had found what she liked about it: coffee shops, book stores, and cars. Especially cars. If cars had existed in her time, on her homeworld, she might not have committed so very many atrocities. However, there was one dark realization that Rider had made of car culture:

Caravans were evil.

They were not fun, and they clogged up the roads. Roads which would be better served as arteries for cars like Rider's Halcyon G-89 Guillotine to course down. Instead, Rider had to share the road with the infernal, plodding carts, and the stress from not being able to gun it made her get twitchy.

And when Rider got twitchy, people started getting holes put in them.

Good for these idiot drivers her master was in the passenger's seat.

And Noodle wouldn't take her eyes off of Rider for more than a minute.

Anything for the master.

It was a cold, biting morning, where the blades of grass on the side of the road had all frozen. Noodle had been brought alongside a car's burned-out husk by a police cruiser, and with dread, who did she see on the side of the road? Her Familiar, Rider, sulking with her arms crossed. Noodle was out and running before the cruiser came to a full stop, and running over to make sure that Rider was okay.

"Did you push the car too hard?"

"..."

"Did someone fire a rocket-propelled grenade?"

"..."

"Did a dragon think your car looked tasty?"

"Master, that's ridiculous."

"It got you to talk, though."

It was after several more minutes of talking in circles when Rider finally spilled. This punk had thrown his drink on her beloved Guillotine. So, she used Phantom Chariot: The Silent Havoc in the Sky to rain hellfire and doom upon his car. Noodle was just happy that she had had the presence of mind to give him the ol' generosity of David: four warning shots, and the fifth to kill. Luckily, he ran before the car got nuked.

"Rider...There is more to life than cars."

"Yes, but not much of it is as wonderful."

Noodle shook her head.

Trouble was in their future.