Rank #28 in Vampire 04.05.17 -------
Cord lifted a brow, taken aback. "I am?"
"Yes, you are, standing suddenly in that opening without even so much as a knock on the door or a sound of your boot. And of course, with you...
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The Formula One tires screeched against the asphalt as it swerved to the right of the practice track. Then, the same thing happened when it made a hard turn to the left. It became a known cycle of ear-splitting sound for at least ten minutes - a time most car racers deem lengthy for a test drive.
Although it was a cold, gloomy evening, thick, white-to-gray smoke could be seen coming out under the engine of the race car. It wasn't an alarming sight for the spectators however. No one wasn't concerned when they knew who drove the said vehicle. They just watched in awe in the sidelines, watched with complete adoration on the driver pulling the shots.
After about two laps of run, the race car finally stopped directly in its inspection area and out came the one who did it all: a woman, wearing a black full-face helmet and loose jumpsuit of red and white.
The NASCAR mechanics call her, "The Empress Hand," owing it to her skillful and sometimes believed to be magical-works on busted car engines, but her family normally names her, Amanda Caitlin, a twenty-four year-old independent, sociable and health-conscious only daughter of the O'Malley Family.
Whether in or out of her dear stepfather's company, many admire her not only for the comely, exotic beauty she exuded, but also for her activeness in extreme sports and her uncanny knack for all-things related to masculine work - engine troubleshooting included.
Had it not for this reason, she would have been at New Zealand still where her stepfather's main office specializing in motorsports was located. And, had it not been for her gay bestfriend's insistence to visit his hometown, she would have been in her apartment, eating her home-made dinner and cuddling her white Persian cat.
"Red Panther is good to go," announced she pertaining to the highly-prized vehicle of slick red paint. She took out her helmet and tossed it inside the driver's seat.
The Head Mechanic, Robert, who directly stood near the engine side nodded. He had a graying hair, an overgrowth of beard and wrinkles in his forehead that was expected of a forty-year-old.
