Who: Wind Dancer (Narrative) What: Cars. That's right. Cars. Muscle cars, even When: Sunday afternoon. Where: Omega Base Garage Warnings: Grease? Language? Who knows.
Lately, Fia had been feeling like any luck she'd ever had in her entire life had completely run out. Completely. First it had been the lack of connections, then the mini-flare, and then the attack. Maybe it wasn't that her luck had run out, but more that she'd used it all up when Shatterstar had come to her rescue during the attack. For whatever reason, she'd spent the last week looking for a car and not found a single one. Or at least, not one that met her requirements which, to her own mind, we're all that exacting. It had to be in her price range. It had to be an older model that she could work on without a lot of fancy computer equipment (even if the base actually had all that fancy equipment, which it apparently did), and it had to call to her in that sense that she would know it when she saw it. And so far, she hadn't seen it.
At least until today.
She'd gotten up this morning and turned on her computer, pulling up the New York Times classifieds section and searching the car section. And there it was. No pic, but it sounded perfect. Exactly what she'd had at home. A 1966 Pontiac GTO convertible in silver with a black top. According to the ad, it needed work. That was all right. That was more than all right. That was perfect.
She'd called the number immediately and made arrangements to come see it, flying into town and then walking the rest of the way with cash on hand in case this was it.
When she arrived at the garage the owner was waiting, and she knew the moment she laid eyes on it that this was it.
Fia was used to bargaining, after all that was how it worked back home. She'd haggled for a good half an hour, doing her best not to seem too excited, pointing out what work it would need, going over it with a fine tooth comb while she ignored the cold. Finally, though, they came to an agreement, she handed over the cash they'd bargained for, taking the keys in return, and driving it slowly through the New York traffic back to the base.
Maneuvering into the garage, she pulled up into one of the empty spaces and climbed out, rubbing her hands together with excitement over the loudly rumbling engine.