Rage

The engine roared like a maddened demon, each internal explosion reverberating through the chassis like encapsulated thunder.

Vergil drove a 1970 Dodge Charger R/T, cutting through the asphalt like a furious beast, spewing smoke and hatred from its exhaust pipes. The midday sun scorched the golden horizon of the desert, reflecting off the car's black, glossy hood.

But Vergil didn't care about the heat, nor the sweat running down his forehead. He simply floored the accelerator without limits.

His fingers were firmly gripping the steering wheel, the knuckles white from the strength of his hold. The blower mounted on the hood spun violently, sucking in air like a colossal lung, feeding the monster beneath the hood. With every press on the accelerator, a brutal roar took over the road, as if the vehicle itself shared its owner's fury.

'We could have just... used our speed to come...' Ada was sitting next to him in the passenger seat, her posture tense.