Death Race: Beyond Anarchy Page #4

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Never did a day's work vertical.

On your mark,

Get set, and die!

Kill, kill!

Kill, kill!

- I can't hear you!

- Yes!

Shut your f***ing...

Yes! Yes!

Don't pick a fight with Godzilla

because you think you

know how to throw a punch.

Sleep on it.

You still want death race tomorrow?

We'll talk.

Hey, Long Beach.

Got a bottle.

Could use some company.

- Nice in here.

- Thanks.

Go ahead and ask.

Everybody always ask.

It's kind of like the

"what's your star sign" line in here.

I'm guilty.

I wasn't gonna ask.

Yeah, which I would've

found out anyway.

There's no secret

here in this Sprawl.

I married a really great guy,

who turned out to be

not such a great guy.

He beat me up a couple of times.

I forgave him.

The market crashed,

he lost his job,

smacked me around a bit more.

I forgave him again.

And then one day,

I didn't forgive him.

I shot him nine times.

You know my one regret though?

That I didn't shoot the bastard ten.

Do you still wanna

not boots with me?

I never said I didn't.

Okay.

Wasn't really out

for the taking anyway.

I just needed somebody to

finish this bottle with.

and you're,

some... mysterious guy

from Long Beach, right?

Get some sleep.

Couch is yours if you want it.

Welcome to the Green house.

This is Baltimore Bob's

one of a kind creation.

Inspired by the Chinese Solar

greenhouse designs with CO2 enrichment.

Pesticide free,

and totally 100% organic.

This is where we

make the ethanol,

and Bob is constantly

tinkering with the recipe

to deliver a high-octane brew.

It's got 20 times more kick than the

water downed petrol

from outside the wall.

He is like the OPEC of the Sprawl.

And he is not in Frank's pocket?

They have an arrangement.

He provides fuel,

and Frank...

reciprocate with some

protection and a few other parks.

We eat a little bit

better than the rest.

You slept on it?

I did.

Let's say you have the skills.

Death race is for

sociopaths, the killers.

You gotta have grumble in your guts.

You have to live for the smell of,

motor oil and high octane fuel.

You gotta love the sound

of rubber on asphalt

and taste of blood in your mouth.

And when you go to sleep at night,

I mean that deep real sleep,

the sound of bullets wheezing past

your head should give you comfort.

So, Mr. Strong and Silent,

you made of that stuff?

If I'm not, then I die, right?

So you want a shot?

I'm getting you a shot.

Tonight.

Death Pit.

Be ready to fight!

Welcome to the Dead Pit,

your degenerate convicts.

Tonight the final death match promises

to be the bloodiest one yet.

The carnage is about to begin.

So take your seat and get ready

for the wildest ride yet.

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