Topher Lydon

Max’s Dacha the next morning Max was making breakfast, standing at the island that divided the kitchenette from his living room, looking at the high leaded windows that overlooked the wooded stream that flowed past his small cabin. Getting him out of Chungking Mansions had become a priority for Jae after their long afternoon stuffed into the broom cupboard. Max hadn’t complained, just trusted that Jae could negotiate a good price and he’d been moved into the two-story dacha in the space of

Thanks guys, for the support. My health has not been the strongest of late, and I am happy for all the support.

Somewhere in Moscow “I swear when I get my hands on that boy,” said Jae threateningly. He was wearing Max’s pizza cap, a black windbreaker, and black nylon pants. He was currently riding on the passenger seat of Vlad’s Plymouth ‘Cuda on their way to Dinamo. Following a short distance behind them was Mrs. Cooper in her pink Lamborghini. Jae’s sentiments towards Boomer were understandable. He’d tried to explain to him that he wasn’t ready, and even after all that Boomer had still gone ah

Somewhere on the M10 The snow drifted down around Max’s Jaguar XKR as it sat on the curb, its bright yellow hazard lights blinking on and off. On one side was the barrier that marked the edge of the drivable road. On the other side was the road itself and marginal traffic whizzing past by every now and then. At that particular hour, the road was at its least amount of traffic. Barely any cars were on the road. Inside the car, Max was laying back on his seat, eyes closed as if he was as

Jae’s Garage, sometime later that night. “Is that so?” said Max said wearing the militsiya jacket he’d won off of the Evo driver. Max and Jae were standing by his car in the middle of the floor. They were, at the time, the only people on the garage floor as it was already past quitting time. Mrs. Cooper had gone home and Boomer has gone to bed after a gruelling day of practice. Jae took this opportunity to get Max to one side and discuss the situation about Bull. “If anything,” Ma

Late afternoon, somewhere in Moscow. Behind some old and disused warehouses, Boomer’s Peugeot 206 GTi was screaming down the pavement. He went down one stretch in between two large warehouses and made a sharp left as he came out. He then drove down the back of the warehouse and made another sharp left as he reached the corner and drove back down the length of the warehouse as fast as he could. When he reached the end he made right, drove down the front of the warehouse, made another

The Next Day Tsvetnoy Bul’var. It was a cold day. The snow had long since given up any attempt at being a cheery white down and had retreated into the roads to form small mounds of City Snow. The kind that was almost black from being encrusted in week’s worth of city air. It looked like it would last well into the New Year. Nothing short of a dynamite would budge it. Winter was in high gear. And Mrs. Cooper’s coat didn't prove much of a barrier to the wind. It seeped in through the woo

On a long stretch of abandoned road. The roar of engines ruled the night air. Taking place was your run-of-the-mill drag race with whoever crosses the finish line first wins. The race was already halfway through with a white Honda Civic SiR Coupe in the lead, its exhaust pipe spitting out blue and red flames from the nitrous oxide. Not far behind was Vlad’s candy purple ’72 Plymouth ‘Cuda. In the driver’s seat, Vlad was nowhere near nervous as he watched the Civic inch away from him.

A few hours later. Mrs. Cooper’s Pajero came to the front of the garage a little bit after lunch. She and Boomer ate a little after she picked him up from the hospital. Aside from the bruise on his arm which he got from hitting it at his own door there was no other injury on him. That was good on two fronts. First, that meant that Boomer was in no critical condition, and second, Mrs. Cooper didn’t have to make up a big excuse for Boomer’s street racing activities. She simply said he got int