<div class="floatright">(http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b52/jotunusmc/36827_421832359861_518524861_4822950_3819136_n.jpg)</div><br/><hr/><hr/><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">Taras Ivan Markovski<strong>  -  Name           </strong><br/>The Muscle<strong>  -  Title              </strong><br/> Foulweather Bluff, east of Seattle<strong>  -  Location     </strong><br/> Everyone<strong>  -  Tagged         </strong></span></span></div><hr/><hr/><br/><div style="text-align: justify;">     There was definitely a vibe beginning to bubble up shortly before Cori got there. Maybe the participants and spectators had seen Taras' crew huddling up - which many would assume was a signal that they'd be going hot soon. Or... maybe it was just because it was the first real race of the season - and Taras always found a way to make them interesting. He preferred to have loose rules for his races - letting the most gutsy or dynamic racers really shine beyond their ride's limited performance. He liked adding the human element to the mix and taking away some of the advantage of those who hedged their bets on all the money they dumped into their cars. <br/><br/>     A slow rumble began to grow as people's voices kept escalating above other's, as well as above the sound of revving engines as drivers showed off their latest upgrades. Stereos were cranked in several different places and the place was just buzzing. Amidst the chaos Taras felt Adriano tap him and turn slightly away; Taras glanced over the shorter man's shoulder at the phone even as the informant was already speaking.<br/><br/>      <em>"We should wait until after the race to respond."</em> <br/><br/>     Taras nodded his agreement even though Adriano couldn't see him. The man knew him well enough not to expect an elaborate response - and Taras hated mixing business and pleasure. Boosting cars was business, racing... was one hundred percent pleasure. He turned back to the crew in time to hear the tale end of Ryan's explanation for spectating this race. Taras didn't offer any type of expression that would hint at how he felt about it, whether good or bad. <em>His loss.</em> <br/><br/>     The Ukrainian figured the opening race of the season (and one of the biggest for that matter) would be the perfect opportunity for Ryan to show his skills on the big stage. Maybe he was waiting for a different reason altogether... Taras couldn't tell - but he never knew what to think about the younger man - other than that he had skills behind the wheel. He was a very talented and technical driver, though he drove a bit more on guts and instinct than Allison did - it would be interesting to see who would come out on top if they ever went head to head.<br/><br/>     But all of those thoughts faded away at the sound of screeching tires. <em>Cori.</em> She always liked to make an entrance, and she certainly didn't disappoint tonight. Her infamous De Ville was definitely not a quiet ride and she knew how to drive it loud. It put an itch under your skin and you couldn't decide if it was agitation or anxiety. Either way she made her presence known. A fashionably late appearance, as usual, brought her over to where the crew was standing. When she got there she apologized, but it was practically a pre-race ritual by now. She couldn't have possibly still been sincere after the second time - let alone the hundredth.<br/><br/>     She immediately went on from there about the massive attention this race was now beginning to draw and Taras wasn't sure if it was meant to be a compliment or something incosequential. Her words were simultaneously precise and non-chalant - which was yet another part about her personality that put most people on edge. Cori was one person nobody could ever get a bead on - even Taras struggled to at times; and he knew here better than anyone...<br/><br/>     Where Taras lacked the ability to express himself noticably, Cori had it in spades. Sometimes he thought that she made such a display just to mess with him - but it didn't bother him. The two had known each other long enough that they never really took anything personally. They were two completely different people, but they balanced each other out. While the crew and the rest of the racers gathered nearby were still recovering from the bold punk rocker's entrance, Taras was calm and collected. He nodded to the crew as a group and then turned around to face the gathered racers. There were at least a dozen of them standing near his crew and they had begun to form a sort of semi-circle as if Cori's appearance had been the cue they were all waiting for. <br/><br/>     He crossed his bare, heavily-tattooed arms and narrowed his eyes, scanning the competition with a steeled look. <strong>"Pretty large turnout tonight, hope nobody embarrasses themselves."</strong> he said, his slavic accent bleeding through every word. The statement had a sarcastic edge to it, though it was true enough. This was <em>not</em> a night to blow it.<strong> "Twelve drivers. Standard rules. Thousand dollar buy in."</strong> His words were crisp and straight to the point, even his tone was sharp. <strong>"It's a one-way sprint from here to Fox Island Pier. Ten large will be waiting for the winner..."</strong> The hint of a smirk creased the right side of his mouth <strong>"... the other two grand will go to whoever comes in last."</strong> It was a different kind of twist, and it had multiple implications. <strong>"It won't get rid of the shame, but it might help you bring a car that will stand a chance next time."</strong><br/><br/>     Although the statement was meant to taunt the other drivers, it was also some serious motivation to race your ass off; because nobody wants to see double their buy-in go to a bitch they already beat. It was insulting. It was not the way things were traditionally done - but few things Taras did ever were. Shortly after he'd finished those statements he lowered one of his muscled arms with an open palm. Several racers stepped forward with cash in hand, and a couple of them gave Taras a curious look as they handed the money over. None of them were sure who it was directed at - if anyone at all... maybe it was all of them. <br/><br/>     The last driver to put his money on the stack was Rurik - and the bills were fucking mint as if the guy was a walking bank. Taras offered only a cold nod to his Russian rival - any race these two were in was always personal. Taras frequently imagined them as head-to-head races with no other opponents, but tonight the enmity Taras had for Rurik was completely different. Normally all he cared about was beating the Triad boss - who was no push-over driver - for bragging rights... but tonight that bitterness went deeper. <br/><br/>     After the final paper was layed down he reached back and handed the eight thousand to Adriano to add to the crew's own four grand that was in the bag. Once Taras had done so, he turned back to face the competing drivers - as well as whoever was sticking around for the start of the race. <br/><br/>     <strong>"I hope you've got your shit together, we go green in five."</strong> And with that he separated himself from the throng and stalked over towards his car.<br/><br/>      Taras was not a man of many words, but tonight's pre-race spout had been even shorter and colder than usual. He was a master at remaining the calm and stoic guy, but there was always one emotion that he could never hide. Anger. He walked over towards his Orbit-Orange Firebird without saying anything else or even making a single gesture to anyone nearby. Clearly he was in a sour mood. It wasn't Allison admitting to having lied to him that got him angry - that had been a long time coming. It was a bunch of small things - mostly work related. <br/><br/>     The more powerful the Triads became, the pushier they got; and Taras and his crew were only facilitating that rise to power. He hated being tied in with the Chinese, but that was the best work that was out there for people with his crew's unique skillset. It had gotten to the point where they really couldn't even get out of it anymore. Taras was infuriated with the whole situation - and seeing Rurik only reminded him of the abuse they were currently putting up with. He opened his car door and dropped down inside, slamming it behind him. He fired up the stroked engine and rolled down his windows before up some violent metal rock - tuning out everything else around him.</div>