"Come on, you ugly bastard," I muttered, feathering the gas.
The rocket streaked off my roof rack, leaving a thick trail of white smoke. A split second later, the delivery truck erupted in a spectacular fireball, flipping end over end and blocking the path for everyone behind me. Gas Guzzlers Extreme
I looked at my bank display on my wrist. Forty-eight thousand. I was just short. "Come on, you ugly bastard," I muttered, feathering the gas
"This baby will set you back fifty thousand credits," Pops said. "And that's the family discount." you ugly bastard
Pops wiped his greasy hands on a rag and smirked. He walked over to a heavy wooden crate and pried it open with a crowbar. Inside lay a pristine, military-grade rocket launcher system, complete with heat-seeking targeting chips.