It was a quarter after eight and was safely when most businesses opened their doors. The lazier ones sometimes waited until ten, but for the most part eight o'clock was a safe time to approach most front doors and see the open sign up in the window. In the realm of accommodations with a slightly longer commitment plan than the temporary, hospitable and luxurious condominiums were being located with increased difficulty the more the home owner's market continued to change and evolve in RhyDin. Not a problem from Dr. Robert Heys.
A little scouting was all that was necessary after making the big move from overseas to RhyDin City. Being a plastic surgeon, he felt he always did his best work when he was near the ocean (which by convenience happened to always have a beach that also had stunning beach babes). His morale kept up on the operating table when he had hot dates to look forward to and rich scenes for which to meet the lovely ladies to set up hot dates. Without a constant source of sex with beautiful women coming in, Robert's performance risked suffering for it. This absolutely factored into his real estate venture.
“Here we are. It's a four bedroom, two full bath with a view of the ocean. I know the sticker price is a little intimidating, but the 4000 square feet more than –” the realtor was interrupted while inviting Robert in behind her.
“Money's not the issue, Miss Zacsby. How's the neighborhood? Predominantly female and single? That's kind of what's important to me. When I'm out jogging or getting my mail, I don't want to talk to my neighbor about football or the latest Grill Champion's set down at the hardware store. I'm a busy bachelor, Miss Zacsby. It's apart of my lifestyle, and I need a bachelor's paradise that caters to that.” He reached for the counter that separated the kitchen and the dining room with an opening in the wall.
“Well I don't think you have anything to worry about there... On-top of being located in a community with other singles looking to mingle such as yourself, This townhome comes with free guest parking, access to the tennis courts, gated privacy with keypad access, and a full included membership to the country club,” Miss Zacsby confidently recited from the package she'd memorized in the car while waiting on Dr. Heys.
Robert stared at her for a moment with doubt written all over his face. He was hearing all of the wrong great-sounding things, and what mattered sounded fake.
“I knew I should have gone with Fiora Shantalaine...” He muttered, “Let's have a look for ourselves, shall we Miss Zacsby?” He would walk back out the front door regardless of what her answer was going to be. One man was mowing his lawn outside and another was getting out of his car and walking across his front walkway. A gust of wind breezed by, barely disturbing his short yet expensive haircut and even less his stare through even more expensive designer sunglasses while the realtor looked caught red-handed.
“Next one,” was all he said.
A Doctor's Work is Never Done
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Robert Heys
- Junior Adventurer
- Posts: 7
- Joined: Tue Nov 06, 2012 7:16 pm
- Location: Lüks Condos, Private Practice in RhyDin
A Doctor's Work is Never Done
"Let us help turn you into the unrealistic RhyDin woman of your dreams.."
-
Robert Heys
- Junior Adventurer
- Posts: 7
- Joined: Tue Nov 06, 2012 7:16 pm
- Location: Lüks Condos, Private Practice in RhyDin
Aquilla RhyDin
The framework had gone up and the granite materials were stacked outside the open lot still plastic-wrapped. They were the scattered pieces that built a beautiful building and could make something great, but it all remained to be pieced. That was what this final appraisal of the property had been for, and the two partners fogged the shine on their shoes the more they trekked through the dirt and gravel.
“Why here? Why so far from RhyDin City?” Robert asked, putting a foot up on cinder block.
“Because this is hard to find? Because it's not getting blown up or attacked every Tuesday? Because you have to ask?” Dr. Benton Aquilla smiled.
It hadn't made any better sense to Dr. Robert Heys, unlike the perfect sense it made to his practice partner, Dr. Aquilla. In a way Robert was a little insulted that he had left his own practice on Earth to make a fresh start at an office that he now knew was going to be hidden from the rest of the world. The possibility of backing out of his contract with Benton had occurred to him, but that meant going solo or even working as an assistant again until he could establish credibility here in RhyDin. He didn't like the sound of that even less that the current predicament.
“We're world class surgeons, Benton. So why hide us from it?” Robert asked, canting his head in the other doctor's direction and narrowing his eyebrows down under his designer sunglasses with displeasure.
“Because we're not going to attract clients with lavish business cards, flashy lights or expensive advertisements like those other guys. We don't need the things they do, or the business they get selling out on billboards. Aquilla RhyDin will be a name you hear when all others have failed and it's time to get the treatment you deserve.
“You may not like it, but we will have pro bono clients. But don't think that just because they're not paying that we're not making money. You'll know what I mean when you actually use those talents of yours for the betterment of someone's life and when the word of mouth spreads. They'll tell two friends who need work done, and then they'll tell two–” Benton said.
“–and then five years later we're making as much annually as our competitors who DID spend the money on a billboard. A little piece of advice, Benton: it's not selling out. It's making a damn living. It's surviving. It's proper advertising. And I didn't get into this to lose money,” Robert explained, leaving.
“Where do you think you're going?!” Benton shouted.
“Don't unpack the molding just yet... partner.” He moved past the wooden pallet holding the said molding, never turning his angry and ultraviolet-protected eyes back at his business associate.
When they parted ways, Robert didn't expect to see him again. Working with a partner who didn't share his concern for the fame and fortune was troubling to say the least. The line was thin now between reconciliation and going to war with lawyers and sinking this business before it even started.
“Why here? Why so far from RhyDin City?” Robert asked, putting a foot up on cinder block.
“Because this is hard to find? Because it's not getting blown up or attacked every Tuesday? Because you have to ask?” Dr. Benton Aquilla smiled.
It hadn't made any better sense to Dr. Robert Heys, unlike the perfect sense it made to his practice partner, Dr. Aquilla. In a way Robert was a little insulted that he had left his own practice on Earth to make a fresh start at an office that he now knew was going to be hidden from the rest of the world. The possibility of backing out of his contract with Benton had occurred to him, but that meant going solo or even working as an assistant again until he could establish credibility here in RhyDin. He didn't like the sound of that even less that the current predicament.
“We're world class surgeons, Benton. So why hide us from it?” Robert asked, canting his head in the other doctor's direction and narrowing his eyebrows down under his designer sunglasses with displeasure.
“Because we're not going to attract clients with lavish business cards, flashy lights or expensive advertisements like those other guys. We don't need the things they do, or the business they get selling out on billboards. Aquilla RhyDin will be a name you hear when all others have failed and it's time to get the treatment you deserve.
“You may not like it, but we will have pro bono clients. But don't think that just because they're not paying that we're not making money. You'll know what I mean when you actually use those talents of yours for the betterment of someone's life and when the word of mouth spreads. They'll tell two friends who need work done, and then they'll tell two–” Benton said.
“–and then five years later we're making as much annually as our competitors who DID spend the money on a billboard. A little piece of advice, Benton: it's not selling out. It's making a damn living. It's surviving. It's proper advertising. And I didn't get into this to lose money,” Robert explained, leaving.
“Where do you think you're going?!” Benton shouted.
“Don't unpack the molding just yet... partner.” He moved past the wooden pallet holding the said molding, never turning his angry and ultraviolet-protected eyes back at his business associate.
When they parted ways, Robert didn't expect to see him again. Working with a partner who didn't share his concern for the fame and fortune was troubling to say the least. The line was thin now between reconciliation and going to war with lawyers and sinking this business before it even started.
"Let us help turn you into the unrealistic RhyDin woman of your dreams.."
-
Robert Heys
- Junior Adventurer
- Posts: 7
- Joined: Tue Nov 06, 2012 7:16 pm
- Location: Lüks Condos, Private Practice in RhyDin
Looking the Part
RhyDin had accepted him very well thus far. Status was similar here how it was back on earth, and if you acted high enough then you eventually got introduced to the high life. Money helped. After Robert had spent the better part of three hours sitting in a bank lobby in overseas RhyDin, not only did he make up with his partner, but several people had already assumed his interests and whispered to him clubs, addresses and scenes. One such scene was one of RhyDin's best-kept underground auto shows, and after selling his old practice, he had some money to spend.
He wasn't far from RhyDin City where the forest went along a road briefly for a while and came to another marriage of streets and buildings. Smooth pavement replaced cobblestone, and that was as far as the changes had gone in the old town. It had a barber shop in the middle, sawmill in the distance, blacksmith on the end and a general goods store near the barber. His guide to tonight's auto show was a friend of a friend's he'd met at the gym: Phuong.
“Why host it here?” Robert asked, sporting a sleek, silk suit off of the D’Vestavio 2012 line.
“We've got a quarter of a mile strip we turn Mallard St. into twice a month, and it's as close to the big city that most authorities will let us operate. RhyDin City's built on trade, but they're not quite ready to swap their buckboards for fuel-injection. But it's not a city without motorists by any means, as I'm sure you've seen driving around.
“It's a market that's slowly easing into society. Now this market, I don't think they'll ever be ready for. There just aren't people rich enough. Speaking of which, the fact that you're not trucking a wheelbarrow full of money with you has me a little worried.” Phuong laughed, brushing his fingers off of his chest and Robert's shoulder to ease the tension on a matter that was still quite serious. Robert looked at him and slowly pulled out and held up a brown leather checkbook before grinning. Laughter resumed with Phuong, and this time Robert got in on it.
“If you can't find what you're looking for here, holmes, then it's not on the planet,” Phuong boasted behind a giant smile, ushering him down the road where both sides of the street were symmetrically lined with flashy cars and beautiful women.
Robert grinned at that, keeping to himself that he could in-fact import from earth, just as he was sure Phuong knew as well since he could tell he was also from there. But that wasn't the most interesting thing.
“It's funny you should call me that, actually.” Robert traded with Phuong as the pace leader, knowing good and well what he was here to look for, and it wasn't the hood and fender-perched models blocking his view of the cars themselves.
“Over there with all the drow babes surrounding his ride: that's Kowalski. Man from earth never fit in more on another realm. Representing – and damn well, mind you – American muscle in the super white Nova. I swear, you could cut him open and he'll bleed motor oil.
“If the ladies congregated around the cafe look unusually tall and thin, it's 'cause they are. Elves, my good man, and slowly putting their fanciful antiquities aside and getting into racing and horsepower. And the elf whose arms they are all clinging is Veleran R'Aennes: past elven formula racer and arguably one of the most famous elves behind the wheel, at least those with street cred, anyway. He owns that sexy Supra with the twin turbo. Don't ask me how a formula racer, let alone an elvish one, finds a fancy for a twenty-year old toyota, but that's the beauty of this world: to each his own. Thing also has the best sound system, too, man. Moving on.
“That blue-scaled, upright firebreather counting money over by the lazer red Evo-8 is Kilas Draxigan. Nobody calls him Kilas until they can say they've crossed the finish line ahead of him in some of RhyDin's most notorious underground races. That's why most of us call him Draxx. If you ever want to change that, though, you should come down when we're all lining up and spraying nitrous, eh?” Phuong smacked him, again, playfully on the arm.
“He's the big dog, then? Or... dragon?” Robert asked, now paused in his walk. Phuong's answer may very well decide where he had intended to go.
“Draconic, and yes. He doesn't race that often as you might guess. Hell, he won't even fit in that evo and it's his car!” Phuong laughed.
“He mainly likes to fix up '90s and early 2000 model coupes and resell them. But he's got the connections with the dealerships back on earth and their underground trades. But I wouldn't bother importing from earth unless you got a lot of money to sp--” Phuong had already begun waving his head, not even considering the idea that Robert had more money where that suit came from. He gawked, seeing him make a straight line for the anthropomorphic dragon that wore his sunglasses at night.
Robert was a new face here, and those stuck out. If that wasn't enough, silk suits certainly added to it. Draxigan crossed his arms over his chest that wore a custom black t-shirt. He bit down, showing a few of his razor sharp teeth during his assessment of the human making his way over. Yes, this was going to be a meeting, alright. Ergo, he dismissed the Asian model by his side to go windex his windshield some more.
“Kilas, right?” Robert asked, his brows jumping up high inquisitively as he held his hand out. The upright dragon ignored it.
“The only talking we let new guys do is on the track. And since you pulled in here on a pair of nice oxfords, I assume those are? – I'm going to have to ask what you think you're doing here?” Draxigan held onto both elbows, shuffling about to make sure his agitated curiosity was seen in his now sideways confrontation.
“You've got some lovely merchandise on sale. I'd like to browse, if that's okay.” Robert started walking to the line of cars grouped with Draxigan's Evo before the larger draconic humanoid swatted his hand out onto his chest to stop him.
“You got coin?” He asked.
Robert looked back at Phuong in all his worry before reaching for that handsome checkbook. He held it between them and told him that if he showed him the right wheels, he'd write whatever figure he wanted. And so the auto show began.
Past an Audi Roadster, a Honda S2000, a Nissan 350Z and an impressive Nissan Skyline that had managed to capture the blue in lightning perfectly in its latter-half, Robert didn't look pleased, and this made Draxigan not look pleased.
“What's the matter, human?” Draxigan asked.
“These are fast cars, no doubt. Could probably beat 90% of anything I came across on the road. But they don't have the status I'm looking for. Where do you keep the thoroughbreds?” Robert looked at him.
“What you see is what I got, human,” Draxigan said, and Robert confronted him this time.
“Then you're not the car lot I was told you were. This selection is sh*t. I don't want to roll out of here looking like a college freshman with a rich daddy. I need an automobile that reflects my success. I'm not a frat punk. I'm a plastic surgeon. Now show me where your goddamn golden horses are, or I'll take my money elsewhere.” Robert sheathed his checkbook and pen back in his interior jacket pocket.
Phuong gasped for a moment, suspecting that Draxigan and the surrounding motorists were going to gather and give this smart-mouthed new face a significant beating, but that never came, no, not with the stern evaluation Draxigan was making on Robert, and the human never flinched from the strength of his medusa-like gaze.
“Alright. Let's show him the queens.” Draxigan remained his arms crossed, nodding while a few squiggly flames were exhaled out his nostrils like high-flamed lighters. Phuong gazed around with surprise at the success of Robert's delegating. As for the doctor himself, a confident grin appeared on his face.
Sliding up noisily did the garage door fly with the muscle of the draconic mechanic, and once he, Robert and Phuong had entered, it closed back down. This was to be a closed door tour of the showroom merchandise. Finally, Draxigan removed his glasses in this pitch darkness and turned a switch to power fluorescent lighting on overhead; this revealed the assortment of tan tarp-covered frames and chassis, already showing their attractive curves and foreign bodies. Queens of the Stone Age playing was all Robert could think about as tarp after tarp was removed under the careful claw of the blue dragon, flooding all too quickly the vibrant and bold paint upon each automobile's exterior.
Above and beyond the classification Draxigan displayed outside, these seven models were the best that money could buy: A black Koenigsegg CCXR with red accents on the rear and side and a sparkling radiance that almost looked like a silver or white infection; a Jaguar C-X75 that its manufacturers had managed to capture the blue hue in lightning for its paintjob; a McLaren MP4-12C in a boisterous canary yellow as was expected of a sports car that would only ever bee seen by people who would never afford it; a TVR Cerbera Speed 12 on the end of the five and sporting a coat of paint in remarkable chameleon jasmine, changing colors before your very eyes depending on the angle you examined it from; a Lamborghini Reventón in electric kiwi; a Lamborghini Gallardo LP 560-4 Noctis in orange; and an SSC Tuatara
red and black with low-glow blue electronics from the interior dash adding an additional color to the stationary mix.
Robert grinned maniacally wide.
“In this garage tonight, and for tonight only – tomorrow these machines will have moved to a new location for practical safety purposes – the combined costs of these sports cars under this roof surpasses that of any estimate that RhyDin City has documented across its districts and outlying territories from over 5,400 national banks with records at least ten years old.” Draxigan swatted Phuong when he attempted to get too close to the Tuatara.
“Earthen automotive-engineering imported across the aether to make some motorist enthusiasts very happy here in RhyDin. Have a look and we can talk prices after you've made a selection.”
“That one,” Robert said, pointing to the Lamborghini. “The Reventón.”
Draxigan – caught off-guard – looked at Robert for his quick response and then at the vehicle itself.
“So quickly?” Admittedly, hr was surprised that he had chosen one of the pricier models but not by a few cars the most expensive.
“I'm a fan of the model. I notice some of the others are performance racing cars, and I'm not big on the racing scene. I would, however, like to be able to hold my own if ever I needed to.” Robert migrated over to the Reventón he had mentioned, striking up pocketed-residence in-front of its driver-side door.
“I couldn't even interest you in the Koenigsegg? For not that much of a price-difference, you can get this 1966 Batman-inspired paint scheme. Or, if you are hanging your suits in RhyDin longer than just the summer, might I recommend the Gallardo? It comes equipped with arcane security-shielding augments for the unpredictable RhyDin attacker or disaster, both which are rich in this realm – a smart investment.” Draxigan rose a clawed pointer finger to assist with his pitched-purchase.
“Arcane-SSA, I hear that's the same company that installed one in Race's GTO. The hardware definitely works. I've seen it.” Phuong backed up Draxigan's claim, nodding over to Robert.
“Can I start it up?” Robert asked, and Draxigan laughed.
“I can't let you sit in it without a down-payment.”
“Let's work that up, then.” Robert had drawn that checkbook for what would be the final time. He wrote out his signature in whipping cursive letters with Phuong's back as a writing board.
“How much?”
“....$191,900 Earth currency...” Draxigan said.
Rip.
The check was torn off from its perforated edge and separated from the book of them. Disbelieving for only a moment, the blue draconic accepted the tiny paper between his frightening claws and began to move around the cars.
“I'll pull the key. How soon will you need the car?”
“I've an appearance at a beach party this week. I'll need to drive out of here with it tonight.” Robert admitted.
Draxigan shook his head while processing the check and then taking the key out of a rune-sealed chest, walking back over to him with it and unlocking and opening the vertical door.
“You do business quick. You're not leaving me much time to get to know you, and I might want to know a human like you if you make the kind of money it sounds like you make.”
Robert accepted the key when the dragon handed it to him and then he moved to slide into the Lambo. He exhaled the same breath over many seconds as he let his hands ease down onto the steering wheel. His fingers naturally reached back to the gear lever behind the wheel and wrapped around its edge, holding it with a satisfaction that no one else might ever lay their hands on it.
“Feels like it was made for you, doesn't it? I know the feeling. My personal road cars I get specially made 1.66 times factory build and with the necessary adjustments to accommodate my size. You know Shaq, right? Me and him both talk to the same guy. Earth basketball player? He's retired now I think –” Draxigan went on before Robert requested his silence.
“Quiet... Let's hear her purr.” Robert opened the center panel switch-cover and depressed the lavish button and illuminated it in additional tepid LED-lighting around the switch itself. The meters on the instrument panel powered on with beautiful lighting very similar, and the needles on them also illuminated and jumped to life. Immediately with the life given to the powerful engine, Robert was taken aback by the roar he'd expected to be a purr.
“Listen to that!” He shouted.
“Today's drivers don't measure 0-60 anymore! It's 0-100 now – and back to a dead stop if you need – in less than four seconds!!” Draxigan shouted over the engine to him as he revved it.
“F-22 Raptor-inspired, and you've got a function to switch your instrument panel to aerial readouts to measure g-force and pitch. It's as close as you're getting to the Batmobile without being Christian Bale. You know Christian Bale, right? Those new Batman movies? I know the guy. He recently test drove a–”
Robert shut the engine off and turned over to him and Phuong.
“Let's finish the rest of the paperwork, Mr. Kilas. I can read the manual when I get home,” Robert said.
Phuong couldn't believe how quickly Robert was going to be rolling out of here. He couldn't believe the cars that Draxigan had had in his garage this time, and he really couldn't believe that Robert had been vetted clear to purchase one. For every additional moment it remained a mystery, Robert helped bring him back to reality by coming and sitting back in that car with the customary goodies packed and bagged for new Lambo owners.
“Give you a ride to your car, Phuong?” Robert suggested.
“Huh? Yeah, yeah... sure.” Still in that bit of disbelief, but he went and was going over and getting in the passenger.
“Hey, human,” Draxigan called out again from the six other cars while Robert neared the garage door.
He poked his head out the window after rolling it down.
“Do you plan on racing that thing?” He asked him quite seriously.
“I'm a plastic surgeon, remember? We're more superficial creatures,” Robert replied.
“I'd strongly consider knowing how to drive that car the way it was meant to be driven, or else you'll never be more than a poser who merely accumulated the money. We won't recognize you if you come back here,” Draxigan bluntly put, and Robert continued to stare at him until he spoke back up.
“Every four months we hold a grand tour across scenic RhyDin. The earnings are always seven figures. Earth-sponsored; Earth currency. If you ever want recognition with the elite of RhyDin's motorists.. come along one time. Stay in touch with Phuong, and he'll tell you when we're hosting our next one.”
There was a long pause from Robert while the loud jet-like V12 engine of the Reventón idled.
“I just might.” And with astute deduction skills, one would have heard hopefulness within his tone before becoming impossible to hear over the picking-up engine that powered the sports car out of the garage and into the night for its maiden cruise with its new driver.
He wasn't far from RhyDin City where the forest went along a road briefly for a while and came to another marriage of streets and buildings. Smooth pavement replaced cobblestone, and that was as far as the changes had gone in the old town. It had a barber shop in the middle, sawmill in the distance, blacksmith on the end and a general goods store near the barber. His guide to tonight's auto show was a friend of a friend's he'd met at the gym: Phuong.
“Why host it here?” Robert asked, sporting a sleek, silk suit off of the D’Vestavio 2012 line.
“We've got a quarter of a mile strip we turn Mallard St. into twice a month, and it's as close to the big city that most authorities will let us operate. RhyDin City's built on trade, but they're not quite ready to swap their buckboards for fuel-injection. But it's not a city without motorists by any means, as I'm sure you've seen driving around.
“It's a market that's slowly easing into society. Now this market, I don't think they'll ever be ready for. There just aren't people rich enough. Speaking of which, the fact that you're not trucking a wheelbarrow full of money with you has me a little worried.” Phuong laughed, brushing his fingers off of his chest and Robert's shoulder to ease the tension on a matter that was still quite serious. Robert looked at him and slowly pulled out and held up a brown leather checkbook before grinning. Laughter resumed with Phuong, and this time Robert got in on it.
“If you can't find what you're looking for here, holmes, then it's not on the planet,” Phuong boasted behind a giant smile, ushering him down the road where both sides of the street were symmetrically lined with flashy cars and beautiful women.
Robert grinned at that, keeping to himself that he could in-fact import from earth, just as he was sure Phuong knew as well since he could tell he was also from there. But that wasn't the most interesting thing.
“It's funny you should call me that, actually.” Robert traded with Phuong as the pace leader, knowing good and well what he was here to look for, and it wasn't the hood and fender-perched models blocking his view of the cars themselves.
“Over there with all the drow babes surrounding his ride: that's Kowalski. Man from earth never fit in more on another realm. Representing – and damn well, mind you – American muscle in the super white Nova. I swear, you could cut him open and he'll bleed motor oil.
“If the ladies congregated around the cafe look unusually tall and thin, it's 'cause they are. Elves, my good man, and slowly putting their fanciful antiquities aside and getting into racing and horsepower. And the elf whose arms they are all clinging is Veleran R'Aennes: past elven formula racer and arguably one of the most famous elves behind the wheel, at least those with street cred, anyway. He owns that sexy Supra with the twin turbo. Don't ask me how a formula racer, let alone an elvish one, finds a fancy for a twenty-year old toyota, but that's the beauty of this world: to each his own. Thing also has the best sound system, too, man. Moving on.
“That blue-scaled, upright firebreather counting money over by the lazer red Evo-8 is Kilas Draxigan. Nobody calls him Kilas until they can say they've crossed the finish line ahead of him in some of RhyDin's most notorious underground races. That's why most of us call him Draxx. If you ever want to change that, though, you should come down when we're all lining up and spraying nitrous, eh?” Phuong smacked him, again, playfully on the arm.
“He's the big dog, then? Or... dragon?” Robert asked, now paused in his walk. Phuong's answer may very well decide where he had intended to go.
“Draconic, and yes. He doesn't race that often as you might guess. Hell, he won't even fit in that evo and it's his car!” Phuong laughed.
“He mainly likes to fix up '90s and early 2000 model coupes and resell them. But he's got the connections with the dealerships back on earth and their underground trades. But I wouldn't bother importing from earth unless you got a lot of money to sp--” Phuong had already begun waving his head, not even considering the idea that Robert had more money where that suit came from. He gawked, seeing him make a straight line for the anthropomorphic dragon that wore his sunglasses at night.
Robert was a new face here, and those stuck out. If that wasn't enough, silk suits certainly added to it. Draxigan crossed his arms over his chest that wore a custom black t-shirt. He bit down, showing a few of his razor sharp teeth during his assessment of the human making his way over. Yes, this was going to be a meeting, alright. Ergo, he dismissed the Asian model by his side to go windex his windshield some more.
“Kilas, right?” Robert asked, his brows jumping up high inquisitively as he held his hand out. The upright dragon ignored it.
“The only talking we let new guys do is on the track. And since you pulled in here on a pair of nice oxfords, I assume those are? – I'm going to have to ask what you think you're doing here?” Draxigan held onto both elbows, shuffling about to make sure his agitated curiosity was seen in his now sideways confrontation.
“You've got some lovely merchandise on sale. I'd like to browse, if that's okay.” Robert started walking to the line of cars grouped with Draxigan's Evo before the larger draconic humanoid swatted his hand out onto his chest to stop him.
“You got coin?” He asked.
Robert looked back at Phuong in all his worry before reaching for that handsome checkbook. He held it between them and told him that if he showed him the right wheels, he'd write whatever figure he wanted. And so the auto show began.
Past an Audi Roadster, a Honda S2000, a Nissan 350Z and an impressive Nissan Skyline that had managed to capture the blue in lightning perfectly in its latter-half, Robert didn't look pleased, and this made Draxigan not look pleased.
“What's the matter, human?” Draxigan asked.
“These are fast cars, no doubt. Could probably beat 90% of anything I came across on the road. But they don't have the status I'm looking for. Where do you keep the thoroughbreds?” Robert looked at him.
“What you see is what I got, human,” Draxigan said, and Robert confronted him this time.
“Then you're not the car lot I was told you were. This selection is sh*t. I don't want to roll out of here looking like a college freshman with a rich daddy. I need an automobile that reflects my success. I'm not a frat punk. I'm a plastic surgeon. Now show me where your goddamn golden horses are, or I'll take my money elsewhere.” Robert sheathed his checkbook and pen back in his interior jacket pocket.
Phuong gasped for a moment, suspecting that Draxigan and the surrounding motorists were going to gather and give this smart-mouthed new face a significant beating, but that never came, no, not with the stern evaluation Draxigan was making on Robert, and the human never flinched from the strength of his medusa-like gaze.
“Alright. Let's show him the queens.” Draxigan remained his arms crossed, nodding while a few squiggly flames were exhaled out his nostrils like high-flamed lighters. Phuong gazed around with surprise at the success of Robert's delegating. As for the doctor himself, a confident grin appeared on his face.
Sliding up noisily did the garage door fly with the muscle of the draconic mechanic, and once he, Robert and Phuong had entered, it closed back down. This was to be a closed door tour of the showroom merchandise. Finally, Draxigan removed his glasses in this pitch darkness and turned a switch to power fluorescent lighting on overhead; this revealed the assortment of tan tarp-covered frames and chassis, already showing their attractive curves and foreign bodies. Queens of the Stone Age playing was all Robert could think about as tarp after tarp was removed under the careful claw of the blue dragon, flooding all too quickly the vibrant and bold paint upon each automobile's exterior.
Above and beyond the classification Draxigan displayed outside, these seven models were the best that money could buy: A black Koenigsegg CCXR with red accents on the rear and side and a sparkling radiance that almost looked like a silver or white infection; a Jaguar C-X75 that its manufacturers had managed to capture the blue hue in lightning for its paintjob; a McLaren MP4-12C in a boisterous canary yellow as was expected of a sports car that would only ever bee seen by people who would never afford it; a TVR Cerbera Speed 12 on the end of the five and sporting a coat of paint in remarkable chameleon jasmine, changing colors before your very eyes depending on the angle you examined it from; a Lamborghini Reventón in electric kiwi; a Lamborghini Gallardo LP 560-4 Noctis in orange; and an SSC Tuatara
red and black with low-glow blue electronics from the interior dash adding an additional color to the stationary mix.
Robert grinned maniacally wide.
“In this garage tonight, and for tonight only – tomorrow these machines will have moved to a new location for practical safety purposes – the combined costs of these sports cars under this roof surpasses that of any estimate that RhyDin City has documented across its districts and outlying territories from over 5,400 national banks with records at least ten years old.” Draxigan swatted Phuong when he attempted to get too close to the Tuatara.
“Earthen automotive-engineering imported across the aether to make some motorist enthusiasts very happy here in RhyDin. Have a look and we can talk prices after you've made a selection.”
“That one,” Robert said, pointing to the Lamborghini. “The Reventón.”
Draxigan – caught off-guard – looked at Robert for his quick response and then at the vehicle itself.
“So quickly?” Admittedly, hr was surprised that he had chosen one of the pricier models but not by a few cars the most expensive.
“I'm a fan of the model. I notice some of the others are performance racing cars, and I'm not big on the racing scene. I would, however, like to be able to hold my own if ever I needed to.” Robert migrated over to the Reventón he had mentioned, striking up pocketed-residence in-front of its driver-side door.
“I couldn't even interest you in the Koenigsegg? For not that much of a price-difference, you can get this 1966 Batman-inspired paint scheme. Or, if you are hanging your suits in RhyDin longer than just the summer, might I recommend the Gallardo? It comes equipped with arcane security-shielding augments for the unpredictable RhyDin attacker or disaster, both which are rich in this realm – a smart investment.” Draxigan rose a clawed pointer finger to assist with his pitched-purchase.
“Arcane-SSA, I hear that's the same company that installed one in Race's GTO. The hardware definitely works. I've seen it.” Phuong backed up Draxigan's claim, nodding over to Robert.
“Can I start it up?” Robert asked, and Draxigan laughed.
“I can't let you sit in it without a down-payment.”
“Let's work that up, then.” Robert had drawn that checkbook for what would be the final time. He wrote out his signature in whipping cursive letters with Phuong's back as a writing board.
“How much?”
“....$191,900 Earth currency...” Draxigan said.
Rip.
The check was torn off from its perforated edge and separated from the book of them. Disbelieving for only a moment, the blue draconic accepted the tiny paper between his frightening claws and began to move around the cars.
“I'll pull the key. How soon will you need the car?”
“I've an appearance at a beach party this week. I'll need to drive out of here with it tonight.” Robert admitted.
Draxigan shook his head while processing the check and then taking the key out of a rune-sealed chest, walking back over to him with it and unlocking and opening the vertical door.
“You do business quick. You're not leaving me much time to get to know you, and I might want to know a human like you if you make the kind of money it sounds like you make.”
Robert accepted the key when the dragon handed it to him and then he moved to slide into the Lambo. He exhaled the same breath over many seconds as he let his hands ease down onto the steering wheel. His fingers naturally reached back to the gear lever behind the wheel and wrapped around its edge, holding it with a satisfaction that no one else might ever lay their hands on it.
“Feels like it was made for you, doesn't it? I know the feeling. My personal road cars I get specially made 1.66 times factory build and with the necessary adjustments to accommodate my size. You know Shaq, right? Me and him both talk to the same guy. Earth basketball player? He's retired now I think –” Draxigan went on before Robert requested his silence.
“Quiet... Let's hear her purr.” Robert opened the center panel switch-cover and depressed the lavish button and illuminated it in additional tepid LED-lighting around the switch itself. The meters on the instrument panel powered on with beautiful lighting very similar, and the needles on them also illuminated and jumped to life. Immediately with the life given to the powerful engine, Robert was taken aback by the roar he'd expected to be a purr.
“Listen to that!” He shouted.
“Today's drivers don't measure 0-60 anymore! It's 0-100 now – and back to a dead stop if you need – in less than four seconds!!” Draxigan shouted over the engine to him as he revved it.
“F-22 Raptor-inspired, and you've got a function to switch your instrument panel to aerial readouts to measure g-force and pitch. It's as close as you're getting to the Batmobile without being Christian Bale. You know Christian Bale, right? Those new Batman movies? I know the guy. He recently test drove a–”
Robert shut the engine off and turned over to him and Phuong.
“Let's finish the rest of the paperwork, Mr. Kilas. I can read the manual when I get home,” Robert said.
Phuong couldn't believe how quickly Robert was going to be rolling out of here. He couldn't believe the cars that Draxigan had had in his garage this time, and he really couldn't believe that Robert had been vetted clear to purchase one. For every additional moment it remained a mystery, Robert helped bring him back to reality by coming and sitting back in that car with the customary goodies packed and bagged for new Lambo owners.
“Give you a ride to your car, Phuong?” Robert suggested.
“Huh? Yeah, yeah... sure.” Still in that bit of disbelief, but he went and was going over and getting in the passenger.
“Hey, human,” Draxigan called out again from the six other cars while Robert neared the garage door.
He poked his head out the window after rolling it down.
“Do you plan on racing that thing?” He asked him quite seriously.
“I'm a plastic surgeon, remember? We're more superficial creatures,” Robert replied.
“I'd strongly consider knowing how to drive that car the way it was meant to be driven, or else you'll never be more than a poser who merely accumulated the money. We won't recognize you if you come back here,” Draxigan bluntly put, and Robert continued to stare at him until he spoke back up.
“Every four months we hold a grand tour across scenic RhyDin. The earnings are always seven figures. Earth-sponsored; Earth currency. If you ever want recognition with the elite of RhyDin's motorists.. come along one time. Stay in touch with Phuong, and he'll tell you when we're hosting our next one.”
There was a long pause from Robert while the loud jet-like V12 engine of the Reventón idled.
“I just might.” And with astute deduction skills, one would have heard hopefulness within his tone before becoming impossible to hear over the picking-up engine that powered the sports car out of the garage and into the night for its maiden cruise with its new driver.
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