(I didn’t post this in the actual RP forum. Didn’t feel like it for some reason. I liked it, its just different on account of using 2^nd person. I also had a plethora of ideas but do to delay to getting to it didn’t quite deliver what I wanted.)

Tires screech loudly dust kicking up into the air in a blinding storm the smell of burning rubber filled the air. Automatic weapons could be heard going off a spark flashes out the corner of your eye. A fraction of a second out of place and your brain matter would have bathed your windshield. The streets had become a warzone, the lawless land not halting the blood sport. The car spins wildly but with peerless skill you translate the wild machine to instead be in a drift. You pulled it off the final lap can now begin. You smile with a childish grin; time this game was made a real change on what was expected. A thumping is going off in your ears, your heart thundering like adrenaline.

But let us back track and say how you got here….

You wake up as you always do next to a ‘friend’ from a night before. The spoils of being the best driver in these war torn parts of Venezuela. You can feel excitement in your veins coursing nitrous in the tank. You’ve grown tired of all the cliché speed and wheels of the tracks. Years of victory laps have tarnished your initial appeal to the game. Where others might retire however you what with your brilliant mind came up with the evolution of the tracks. Some might say it was what the game of the future the sport of this Western warzone; all you care about though is the rush and the profit. This was to be your baby tonight you would make a real name for yourself. Grabbing a towel, you move around the various clothes on the floor to grab a shower. A chance to take a moment, and reflect on how you got to this point. How did the hopeless thief get here where out of an shthole a future could be made?

Mother Divanova had been a thief long ago, and in that time she had managed to acquire an impressive amount of funds. She often would tell you of bedtime stories revolving around horse chases and robbing train cars. She also told tales about a headless rider, a devil of the shadows who had no love for anything but the rush. For whatever reason though you didn’t find an attraction to the thief who liberated mutants but also kept money to enjoy herself. You also didn’t find a love in characters that ran with that thieving liberator, sure they were great Zombie was especially cool but none of them connected. No you had been a fan of the Rider he did everything for the thrill. Everything was about just being a bad ass, often times everything conventional and logical was forsaken for style. You found a kindred spirit in the ghostly rider. Sure he seemed to commit horrors on his victims and take brutal amounts of damage; even still you wanted to be like him when you grew up. Mom didn’t give you spite for it either just tried to teach you how to use your abilities before they had even come. She new it would be passed down genetics and so almost as soon as you were a mutant you knew how to master it.

As for dad he was a leading figure in the automotive industry. He was hired day in and day out to maintain cars and more importantly come up with designs. You fell in love with the machines the sound of their engines, the blinding speeds they could maintain. And daddy made a promise “I can see it in your eyes your worse then your mom, you my little diva desire to raise hell.” You hated being called Diva, family nicknames were a btch. However you couldn’t argue the fact. After all the day he was saying this you were expelled from kindergarten for the week. You stole a juice box, kicked a bully between the legs and said ‘naps can go fck themselves.’ Dad looked you in the eyes as he kneeled down to your level. “I promise every three months I will get you a vehicle. Now you wont get as many gifts on holidays and things but how can you complain right?” You couldn’t object there either. “Here is the catch however you will only get the one ride you want if you don’t get caught being bad. I can’t stop you I know that for a fact, but I can teach you to not get caught because mom and I wont bail you out.” Mom taught you tricks dad taught you engines, mom made you a pro with projectiles from simple throws to rocket launchers and everything between. Dad made you a master behind the wheel. At thirteen it was safe to say you could build almost any gun or vehicle if you had the specs and materials to make it. And of course you could use any of them. That’s when you learned your powers had manifested and began learning how to use em like you had been taught.

You grew up being a model for the company’s dad and mom worked for. The job was so boring you imagined violence most days but it was okay. For these photo snapping commercial shooting ass wipes had one thing going for them. Money, more chances to spoil yourself. And after the lame redundant jobs you got to play, owning the streets with a showmanship many were envious of. The gangs always saw you as a little sister and backed you up and you returned the gesture in kind. This was your life up until a few months ago when everything changed for not only you or the family but also Venezuela as a whole. War had come…

That brings us to now, when Venezuela was a four-part district and your home was in the worst neighborhood. Mom had died of nuclear fall out; dad took a bullet when fighting for VZ. Not like it mattered soon as the war came you figured best just stay out of the firing range. An adrenaline rush was great but getting shot in the ass wasn’t appealing. That and there was nothing to fight for, politics went to sht big deal. Now though a game more your style could be set up. SPITFIRE now that was something marketable.

“Looters and Gentlebots allow me to introduce you to Spitfire named such because everyone has a gun! You don’t need to boo or spit at that hated individual. Instead feel free to simply open fire!” The automobile you drive at that time reveals a pair of guns. “That’s right you the audience doesn’t just get guns so does the drivers! Automobile automatic vehicular warfare for the masses. Smash the System, Anarchy! All that good stuff!” Ballistics then open fire tearing apart the driver of the car in front of you. Leaning out the window you withdraw your pistol knowing that another racer is about to hit a jump. Eyes do to your spectacular abilities can tell everything about motion. You know how fast the vehicle is going, the trajectory you can read intuitively and that makes the next bit easy. With unnatural precision you fire the pistol releasing a round at the perfect angle needed to strike the gas tank. You were able to improve the speed of the round so it had enough heat to trigger an explosion. By influencing the speed you were allowed to make something seemingly improbable and near impossible happen. The car exploding violently in a ball of flame.

(Been sick so this may end up kind of sucky as my attention was a bit scattered. However this is the conclusion for S.I.B case #1 And as well as an introduction to what I wanted to do with Spitfire.)

They had managed to work out the location of whoever was reaking all the havoc around the city. London had been reduced to a mass riot as a small group of organized people somehow managed to take the Spirit of Cain from Final Arrow and release it.  After alot of clue searching, crime fighting and assorted business of what people like S.I.B do they pin pointed where things took place. A rag tag group of militia/terrorist individuals and cultists had speant half a year ploting how to take what they were after. Now in the center of the city the team was workiing on devising the strategy to take the magestic city back. Mr Name and Kurrent were the main two to  devise the strategy to take the gothic steeple that the targets were in.

Sideslash was the primary decoy for the operation his suit made him a walking tank so they set him in the open. Kurrent and Name of course being near by helping him unless one of the other teams needed support. Heavy weapons both capable of lethal and nonlethal modes made for the perffect excuse for the rest to get in undetected. Orttodog and Variable snuck to where the security feed was. Ort was good at being stealthy his wall climbing attributes making it even easier. Variable being a shape shifter simply walked through the crowds undetected nobody expecting her of not being apart of the unit. Meanwhile Soothing Sounds and Acer made short work of the people within the main rooms their abilities working wonders on on interier crowd control. The plan may of sounded rusty at first but Kurrent had alot of experience and Name was a genius. They knew who to put together even when the others didn't know they could even slightly work together.

The last of the opperation called for Dreadmaster to cut the power. Having made short work of the terrorists that opposed him the power was severed and the entire compound went dark. Red Raider providing the nightgoggles and other gear needed passed them to the two women working with him. The head strong gear head Spitfire and the emotional magician Despair. Being the only magic user they had Despair was the best bet they had at subdueing the dark energy working throughout London. The safe room was small well guarded yet easy with the trio having the advantage of being the only ones that could see. Looking back on it later maybe they would look at the idea as moronic. At the time however it was simply the best and smartest outcome they had. And so using what magic she had Despair split the malevolent force between Red Raider and Spitfire. The division making it imposible to take the energy without having both in close proximaty of eachother and a strong ability over magical arts.

One Week Later

Desiray fumbled into the bathroom fighting a killer migrain. Her fair skin reflected in the mirror as she held her head. A week had gone by sence the first case with S.I.B and her particular arangment with that redmasked team mate of hers. The spirit of Cain had spread out tainting a city into being complete anarchy. So when it was stoped her and the man she had nicknamed Red split the tainted spirit.. If it could escape where it was magically held it seamed best to place it where it could go nowhere. After the past few days she rather regreted it, eyes fluttering she looked at her reflection jumping back at what she witnessed. Her hair danced strands a dark black and floating as if made of darkness. Her left eye glowed a bloody red. "Hi hows it going beautiful?" She saw it the words came from her, the voice though was more a growl and distorted.

"Who the hell are you? I would much rather not share my mind with some god..." Her words were cut off. It was almost as if her lips had automatically sealed themself shut controlled by some unseen force.  Allready Desiray was geting agitated with whatever had found its way in her head. Of course the raspy voice had shut her up simply so it could speak.

"The name is Cain you took have my evil little soul in to you and unfortunately now your stuck with me. Feels rather good dont it. You can sence it deep in your marrow there is something learking just screaming to come out." The voice as twisted as it was also carried an excited feal to it. "Heres how it goes  to avoid being able to reak untold chaos upon the world! Heheh love over exagerating anyway to avoid that my soul has been bonded to you and Charles St Cloud....oh I'm sorry I mean Red Raider mister enigma over there also has me swiming in his head. Admitedly I don't know how well I am been more curious in playing with you. I can get to him someother time at the moment I want to play with the pretty one." The voice clawed in her head it hurt made her want to scream. Des however couldn't manage such a thing as Cain had control of her voice at the moment. "To keep me subdued every once and awhile I get to come out and kill some people. Of course it will only be the people like me." She struggled to fight his words to call him out but she was having no luck. "Shhh shhh my dear you don't have a choice, well unless you want me to simply take control. I could you know, just run around making a fool of you." So that was it she was now bound to some dark entity no chance to fight it.

The annoying voice in her head had been silent for awhile now. Desiray was in a bar getting hammered when he found his way to the surface. A man had hit on her as she was placing her yellow helmet back on. The leather outfit and helm glistening in the street lights  as the large likely steroid taking individual set out to pin her. Tossing her to the ground and making clear what he wanted. Desiray didn't even feel the change simply one second she was in control the next a spectator. Her knee came up the blow droping the thug to his knees. Growling in obvious pain he reached for his shot gun on his bike parked near hers and aimed it at the models arm. The gun discharged her arm lost as the weapon fired, there was however no blood only a thick black ooze and smoke. The severed arm reatatching itself as quick as it was removed. In a almost snake like action she rose to her feet removed her helmet and in a singular blow crushed the thugs skull. The caved in structure spilling blood across the asphalt. "Shood of aimed for the chest there the wound would have stuck. You cant butcher the butcher." Her voice was a mix of the more malevolent voice of Cain and the silky smooth voice of Desiray. Looking into the reflective glass of her helmet the possessed Desiray saw her face as she was being controled. A strange red eyed apparition of smoke. The woman almost appeared headless her eyes as red as the thick blood on the ground. For beter or worse she now at any moment would be forced into this, headless rider. A sharp whistle and her bike now slightly darker and twisted in look roared to life.