<div class="floatright">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/1/16/Burnout-Marcellus2.jpg)</div><hr/><strong>Marcellus Smith</strong>(http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=181182.msg8664684#msg8664684)<br/><strong>Car</strong>: '99 Prelude (http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/4/4f/Marcellus-PreludeSH.jpg[)<br/><strong>Appearance</strong>: Shirtless, Black Basketball Shorts and Nike Flip Flops<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Across the street from the house where his car is parked<br/><strong>Tag</strong>: Open<br/><hr/><br/>Marcellus put his plate on top of his car and sat the beer on the ground beside the driver side door as he made his way around to the trunk and inserted his key into the keyhole then turned it to open the trunk. He liked to travel light so there were only a flashlight, a quart of oil, some anti-freeze and jumper cables in his trunk apart from the spare and jack. Many days he considered pulling the spare out so that his car would be lighter but, being a daily driver, he would hate to get stuck out on the road somewhere with a flat and have to call his insurance for a tow truck and the last thing he needed was higher insurance. Of course, calling one of his roommates for assistance was a choice too but, everyone’s schedule was so hectic that there was no telling where people would be at any given time. Plus, Marcellus hated relying on other people when he didn’t have to.<br/><br/>Marc left the trunk open, he had to put the flashlight back eventually, and went to open his driver side door so that he could pop the hood. As he swung the door open to do so, he heard the familiar clank of bottle against door and then bottle against asphalt.<strong>“Fucking shit..”</strong>He muttered to himself as he pulled the little black lever that would release the hood of his car with a small thud. When Marcellus brought his head back around he looked down and saw, to his disappointment, that he had cracked the top of the bottle. He decided that it was probably for the best that he stop drinking anyway since he had a tendency to get carried away when alcohol became involved. He would move the bottle, and any glass that he could see, out of the street to be taken in the house later. He jumped inside of his car and quickly started the engine which roared to life, thanks to his modified exhaust system, but settled down into a nice, smooth purr.<br/><br/>Marcellus moved to the front of his car and felt under the hood for the little lever that would release the latch all the way, so that he could open his hood and prop it. A small grin played on his face as he looked down in the engine bay at his H22A4, the holy grail on ‘90s Honda Engines or at least Marc thought so. A click of the flashlight enabled the powerful, focused beam to be used to scan around for anything that was out of place. As he looked over his engine, his mind roamed back to how fortunate he had been this far on his journey to build an engine. He had put a good amount of money, considering he was a struggling college student, into the engine. He also lucked up on a couple hookups over the years which helped considerably. Intake, Exhaust, Headers, and a solid pair of coilovers that he pulled off a wrecked Acccord and modified along with little things like high performance sparks and wires gave the little Prelude a boost from its original 200hp set up and made Marc confident, when it came to racing others in his class.<br/><br/>The announcement of the arrival of boobs by Demi, he thought it was Demi anyway, broke his concentration from surveying the engine. A part of him was upset that he was potentially missing out on a show but staying focused now would give him an edge later. So instead of heading back inside, he looked in his glove box and pulled out a tire gauge so that he could check tire pressure before he put all that stress on them tonight. Marcellus needed everything to go well tonight, this day off would hurt his pocket and he had to find some extra money if he wanted to pay rent on time this month.