On-Line #14 10 декабря 1995

Новеллы     Игры

Death Race - Novella to the game "Itallian Supercar".

       Death Race! Winner-take-all!



   Cheesy title and an eyesore. Montana Roy in impotent rage 
tore a newspaper, eh, if he had a good machine, but not this 
pimped. He kicked with the force of the wheel of an old "Ford" 
of the seventies. Do not worry, I still get on these race, he 
thought, what only it is not worth it. 


   With contempt for looking around the car, he again napoddal 
the wheel and out of the garage. Closing the door, said 
Montana's eye of some type, he slowly turned and looked at him. 
A man like a man, well, to hell with him, let him spy, and if 
it's for me go, then my own mom at him then look no wants.



   For more convincing Montana unkindly smiled and winked at 
this idiot. Type immediately turned around and quickly became 
deleted, constantly looking back. 


   Montana just whistling merrily, walked to a local bar, the 
old man Annuchio. 


   At this time, "the spy" came to a beautiful limousine, two
blocks from the garage of Montana, the window of the rear door 
opened noiselessly. 


   - "Sir, I found out - he said the type of quiet voice - his 
garage on the street Bonatti, now he went to a bar Senagra. 


   - Well, here's your fee - said a hoarse voice from the 
machine and the window appeared a few bills - if still 
necessary, I know where to find you.



   - Oh thank you, sir!


   Motor limousine wound up and the car went down the street, 
disappeared into the type of dark alley.



   Montana, at this time, entered the bar. The bar had few 
visitors, a few guys from the neighboring street, whom he knew, 
yeah love couple at a table in the corner.



   Taking off his hat, he sat behind the counter.


   - Hey Montana - said Annuchio - you today was late,
that be?


   - Give me a rum bottle next to leave.


   Boss institutions poured Montana and moved to it ashtray
Annuchio knew that Montana today will be sitting up close and 
nalizhetsya beyond measure. 


   Montana sipped rum and smoked, then his attention was 
attracted by the visitor entered. He was short, grayish, and 
decently dressed. What's he doing here? Senor scanned bar and 
went to the bar. 


   - Montana you Roy? - Asked the visitor in a failed 
motorcycle racer hoarse voice. 


   - Well, I'm, what? - Montana has growled thickly.


   - I have to you a business offer that you can not refuse, by 
the way, my name is Andre Iglori. 


   - Listen, sir, speak and be gone, I do not care about you
No matter.


   - Well, you need a car to participate in Death Race?


   The unexpectedness of Montana choked the regular portion of 
booze. 


   -Needed and very good! - Montana even sobered up - say the 
same! 


   - There is no place for business calls, follow me. - And
Andre Iglori, throwing money on the bar for a drink, went to 
the door, behind him was Montana with a bottle of rum and a 
dull expression on his face. 


   The street was waiting limousine. Andre opened the back door 
and gestured satellite invited to sit down. A minute later they 
were driving through the quiet streets.



   - E. .. uh, there you said something about the car, sir.


   - Yes, you get the car on one condition, if collusion
you will get it today.


   - And what condition?


   - During a race you have to kill Tony Laila.


   - And why I should kill him? And, in general, who is he? 
Tell me everything, and even then I'll decide what to do. 


   - Okay, then listen up. I had a brother, and now he's dead.
A few months ago, he contacted one mafioso pomeshanym
on death race - it was Tony Lisle. And then I swore
that the day will come when Lyle disappear from the face of the 
earth. 


   - I agree. - Montana replied thoughtfully. At the end of it 
all murder during the race - one of the principal rules, and he 
does not care about some kind of Tony. 


   Limousine at that time drove to the garage and came out of 
Montana. 


   - Go ahead and nothing to worry.


   - A car? - Excitedly said Montana and clenched his fists.


   - I believe that it is already in you - and, looking into 
the eyes of Montana, added - be careful you try to kill before 
the race. - And the car went, and Montana stood and watched her 
go. 


   "Think of it already in you" - Andre mimicked biker.
He opened the garage, and froze. Next to his wreck was a great 
car, which could only dream of. Red color, sporty look, heavy 
machine gun on the roof. 


   "I will participate in the races!" - He thought and sat 
behind the wheel Italian supercar, not to find the best .....



   From the author: Participate and win! "ITALIAN SUPERCAR"!

                     COLONEL BUTCHER 'TITUS