Bruised, battered and grinning from ear to ear, Alex steered his vehicle closer to the truck and lifted the front wheel, allowing him access to the truck again. He steered it inside and parked it where he had preciously launched himself from, the scene still smelling like fresh rubber. He closed the hatch and made his way to his ‘baby’, inspecting her sides, front and rear. He was a completely different person when it came to racing. He was calmer and more mature, one might even say professional. He ran a hand over her frame and nodded, deeming her mostly unharmed. He pressed his com-piece and spoke. “Haha, did you fucking see the last part! Who the fuck shot the other car! I loved that fuc-“The message continued for a long time, Alex slipping back into his more relaxed state. He filled the next five minutes with ‘fuck’, ‘bloody’ and numerous other phrases. He was proud of his team, his family. This was one can of fucked up psychopathic people you did not want to mess around with. He actually thought the bandits had gotten away with it rather well, only suffering a few injuries.<br/><br/>“New Amsterdam? Fuck, yhea!” Alex blurted out as he began making his way up the steel stairs. “Oy! Joy! We are going to do vampire shots at a bar! You can tell me more about me parking in your ass there.” He switched off his com and laughed, pulling of his tattered shirt and placing the sword back with the other weapons. He entered the hallway, eyes bright and cheeks red from excitement. Where was Frankie! She always knew where to find the best bars, and booze! He was going to do as he always did when winning a race and getting a small amount of cash for managing first place. He grinned at the prospect of spending it all on booze, alcohol and other substances that would get him into trouble. By the time he had gotten on a fresh shirt and his cash, the truck would be entering New Amsterdam.<br/><br/><br/><div align="center"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 24pt;">New Amsterdam</span></strong></div><div class="floatleft">(http://cghub.com/files/Image/083001-084000/83799/209_max.jpg)</div><br/><br/>Population: 750.000<br/>Unemployment: 68,3%<br/>Corporation Allegiance: None<br/>Daily deaths: Around 45 (60 during the weekends)<br/>Exports: Steel/iron, Old world tech, Old parts, Slaves.<br/>Ruling Militia: Tridants.<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>Welcome to New Amsterdam, the scavenging district. Rumour was that this was used to be called New York, some big town of sorts back in the old world. Riots, bombs and other pleasantries completely levelled the place, leaving just rubble and steel, like a graveyard. The steel and concrete rubble proved to be a good way to create a wall or a makeshift house, resulting in a city being built around the corpse of a former behemoth of a city. The town grew and quickly gained a reputation for producing steel to any would be buyer. It was far easier to dig some up out of ruins than actually make new steel from ores and foundries. No cooperation held any sway here, yet a large militia kept the peace. The place was filled with cutthroats, hard asses and drivers. If you needed parts, steel or a bad hangover, this was to place to get it.<br/><br/>Their team had been here before, once. Alex barely could remember the last time, his memory still foggy from back then. He remembered something vaguely about a dare to drink fire brandy that was actually on fire. The rest of his memory was just blackness and painful throbbing.