#car chase

[crabs-brencil]

honestly we were so deprived of a car chase

also 80s cop au or whatever just any excuse to not draw connor in his cyberlife clothes lmao

[destitutebaron]

hot pursuit

[one-time-i-dreamt]

My mom taught me how to drive while we were being chased by the police.

[fuzzyghost]

[sequinedrhinestones]

EDWARD FURLONG & ROBERT PATRICK // Terminator 2: Judgment Day, directed by James Cameron (02/∞)

[major-toast]

Passenger

@rosekillermicrofic // May 14th - insane // words: 856 // minors dni

Speeding down the highway, the landscape is rushing past them, a nervous blur of the black night sky and bright neon signs. Evan’s eyes flick down to the dashboard of their trusty Dodge Challenger. And so do Barty’s.

140 miles per hour. 150. 200.

They’re fucking fast.

“Hit the gas, Rosie!” Barty laughs, turning in his seat to catch their trackers tailgating them. They’re fast too. But, considering Evan will turn off the car lights any second, plunging them into total darkness and vanishing the Challenger into the cool air of the night, they stand no chance. Barty’s grin takes up a new dimension of delight.

“Any faster, and I’ll lose track of the road signs”, Evan mumbles, taking one last sip of his soda can. 

Scrunching up the frail metal within his palm, he then throws the remains out of the open window, one hand safely secured to the wheel. For a moment, Barty hoped the can would hit the windshield of the SUV behind them, but to no avail. Disappointed, he clicks his tongue, focussing back on the road ahead.

“Fuck the road signs!” he says. “If one of the pigs wants to stop us now, I’ll show him how pretty his brain looks on the pavement. Didn’t bring those TEC-9s for nothing.”

Huffing, and with his arms crossed above his chest, he slumps back into the passenger seat, propping his feet up against the windshield.

It was supposed to be an easy job; in and out. No witnesses. A simple kidnapping with a shit-ton of ransom money as a reward. But, of course, it had to be a trap, a botched operation. If Riddle wanted to get rid of them so desperately, he should have done it himself, and not sent out a bunch of bloodhounds.

What an egomaniacal, deranged coward. Barty will be all too happy to greet him with the gun inside his pants. And this time, he doesn’t mean his cock.

Roll the windows down, this cool night air is curious. Let the whole world look in. Who cares who sees anything? I’m your passenger.

At the sound of the radio echoing back his own sentiment, the grin reappears. Usually, Barty listens to no one, but the moment couldn’t be more fitting.

“What- what are you doing?” Evan questions warily, his eyes fleetingly glancing over at him.

“Living” comes the simple reply.

Before the pretty blonde can do anything, Barty has rolled the windows down.

Without unbuckling his seatbelt – because why would he fasten it to begin with? – he climbs out halfway, nothing but his waist and legs keeping him inside the racing car. Feeling the harsh air whip through his hair and prick his nose and ears like a thousand tiny needles, an ecstatic cackle bubbles from his lips.

This. This is what it means to be alive, to breathe.

If only for a short moment.

“Get. In”, Evan grunts, pulling Barty back with one harsh tug on his blood-soaked shirt. “You maniac are getting us both killed!”

Almost as if to lend his words some weight, Evan swerves hard right, trying to avoid crashing into the slowing car before them. The tires screech deafeningly in protest and the centrifugal force shoves Barty back into the passenger’s side door. Left and right, empty beer cans and other trinkets are flying through the tiny space, and with one last bumpy correction of his course, Evan gets them back on track.

“Beautiful”, Barty breathes in admiration, his piercing eyes alighting with new fire and his hands shaking from excitement. “No one can drive like you can, Rosie.”

“Save your compliments until we’re fucking out of here, Crouch.”

He looks over to him, watches the wind dance inside his blonde locks. If they go crashing down, Barty will be glad to crash with him.

Here I lay, just like always. Don’t let me go. Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go. Take me to the edge.

“Do you trust me?” Barty murmurs into the warm space between them.

“Of course, I trust you”, Evan replies.

“Blindly?”

“Blindly.”

Without another word, Barty leans forward then. Gently, he wraps his hands around Evan’s face, covering his eyes. Freezing at first, the pretty blonde relaxes into the touch easily, his grip slackening on the wheel.

“The road is empty. There is no one in front of us”, Barty coos. “You got this, angel. Let me be your eyes-“

“-and I’ll be your wings”, Evan finishes, a small smile stretching over his lips at the familiar words. 

Confidently, he presses down on the gas pedal, increasing their speed once more. Filled with pride, Barty gently kisses his cheek.

“There is another sloth right in front of us. The right lane is empty. You have about 15 seconds.”

Shifting gears and slowing down without effort, Evan taps the wheel. Gracefully, they avoid yet another crash. Yes, no one can drive like his Rosie. No one knows the road like he does.

“You are one insane motherfucker”, Evan smiles as Barty lifts his hand again. He simply shrugs it off.

“As long as I am yours.”

[ethanska]

Art :)

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear (XVIII)

New Player on the board

Part one // Masterpost // Continued from here

This part is dedicated to @neongalaxiie for their comment that made me smile today, I hope you enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*

Ambrose got Kit into the car with relative simplicity. He was surprisingly lighter than before, which didn’t concern Ambrose. Not at all, it was just some information he stored in his head in case he needed it in future. Perhaps this time Ambrose can actually feed the hero properly…

Well, he could decide all that on the way. Right now he had to decide whether or not to throw the hero in the boot or in the backseat. He settled on the backseat, it was easier to keep an eye on the hero in case that red lightning guy came back.

Ambrose suppressed a shiver at the thought of that. That thing wasn’t Kit Mallory. Or, not the one Ambrose knew anyways. It did add to his curiosity about the boy, what kind of life he lived with Mentor. Ambrose set him in the backseat sitting up, hands cuffed in front of him with power dampeners just in case. He strapped the seatbelt over Kit and plugged it in before slamming the door shut and walking around to the driver’s side.

Ambrose didn’t exactly drive… under the radar. He was what his assistant would call a petrolhead, and it wasn’t a nickname he loathed. Ambrose had loved cars since he was five and his parents brought him to a vintage car show. He could still remember the first time he sat behind the wheel of a 1954 Bentley R-Type continental, he knew that he had to have one. A car that was, not a Bentley, he wasn’t some wedding chauffeur.

His obsession with cars only grew from there, from his first Volkswagen to now. His beast, his beauty, his pride and joy: a 2016 Rolls-Royce Wraith, with a monster 6.5 Litre Twin-Turbo V12 engine under the bonnet, custom painted black exterior. He had to get Tony to paint the door handles too (who almost cried when she saw it). Ambrose replaced the original wheels with forgiato wheels to add to the sleekness of the car. Original white, leather interior still as good as the day Ambrose bought it.

He loved it more than anything in the world.

And it was all his.

It represented everything that he wanted people to associate with him. Elegant, opulent, and functional, above all functional. The grace, style and status were just perks that came along with it.

It was late, close to ten when Ambrose got onto the main road. He could take the quick way through the backstreets to his house, but he hadn’t seen the city of like lights for what felt like a long, long time. He took the left into the city and drove along at a leisurely pace.

The radio was playing softly in the background, the Wraith’s purrs making up most of the background noise. Ambrose let out a soft sigh as he pulled up to a red light. He glanced in his rearview to see Kit still fast asleep. No red veins or blue ones, his head lolled against the window.

There was something so innocent about the gesture that made Ambrose look sharply away, eyes turning front again. He never had a little brother or sister, but in that moment, some small part of him — some delusional, sentimental part — wondered if this was what it was like. Checking the rearview to make sure that his brother was sleeping soundly, that he wasn’t showing any signs of pain or distress, or psychotic mania.

He wondered if he would be a good older brother in this hypothetical. Then he quickly disregarded the thought. Such a silly little thought experiment. Besides, of course he would be a good older brother. He would be the best, hands down, no doubt about it. Even if his passenger in the backseat would disagree.

His mind was wandering dangerously, simply because it was so quiet. It had to be because it was quiet, so Ambrose turned up the radio louder, but the song that was playing just ended. Instead a news reporter started speaking urgently.

Ambrose shook his head, tapping his fingers on the wheel when the light turned green just beside Hero plaza: well, Mentor’s memorial garden, more specifically.

“Stay out of the city tonight, there is a rogue Villain, perhaps Supervi—”

Ambrose didn’t get to hear the rest of the news report. When the light turned green he was already moving past the intersection, heading straight, driving through the Hero Plaza in the centre of the city.

His eyes were fixed forward so he didn’t see the hailstorm of debris from a shattered building coming from the right. He didn’t see the Supervillain levitating where Mentor’s statue should have been.

Ambrose didn’t see what was happening to his right. More like he heard it. A sudden onslaught of panicked thoughts that weren’t his raced through his mind and he panicked along with them.

What! They’re never this strong! Not unless— Ambrose glanced to his right and saw Villain levitating ten metres off the ground. As if meeting his gaze, the villain threw his hands forward and a hailstorm of debris went racing towards them.

Ambrose hit the gas, manoeuvring the gears quickly as he took off. The debris fell behind the Wraith, some stones clipping the tail end as he swerved a sharp corner, trying to cut off Villain’s eyesight from the car.

Of course, this was the same moment that Kit woke up. His head hit off the window of the car and he groaned, reaching his hands up to rub the bump. “Ambrose?”

Ambrose’s black eyes caught Kit’s in the rearview mirror. Something hard in them alerting Kit to the danger. “We have a problem.”

“A problem?”

Just as Ambrose was about to drive back into Villain’s sight line, debris like meteorites fell in front of them, tearing up the road ahead of the Wraith. Ambrose slammed his foot on the brakes and the pair jolted forwards in their seats.

“What’s going on?!” Kit demanded, searching the windows to try and see what the commotion was all about. Behind them Kit could see a pile up of cars, people screaming and sirens already blaring. “Ambrose!”

Ambrose’s grip on the wheel was white-knuckled, his face paler than usual as his chest heaved up and down. “There’s a Villain by Mentor’s memorial garden.”

“What?! Let me out!”

Ambrose didn’t reply. Kit went to unhook his seatbelt but Ambrose stopped him. “Kit! It looks like they have telekinesis,” Ambrose said through clenched teeth.

It felt as if the debris fell on Kit’s chest, crushing it from the inside out. A disbelieving what? fell from his lips. His vision seemed to narrow to a pinpoint, his lungs slowing his breaths. His voice raised a little hysterically: “what do you mean they have telekinesis?”

“It’s just what I saw.”

“Well you saw wrong!” Kit argued, his eyes wide and desperate. “The chances of another telekinetic—”

“I know—”

“Do you hear what you’re saying?! There’s no way—”

“I KNOW!” Ambrose barked. His own emotions thrown through a loop at the information.

A long, choking silence passed between them, though they were both thinking the same thing: that Villain can’t be Mentor.

~*~*~*~

Four blocks away a new Supervillain was making their mark in front of the Hero plaza. He was levitating off the ground, bits of debris from Mentor’s memorial statue circling around him like moons of Saturn.

Superhero tried not to think about how much this Supervillain reminded him of Mentor. He really tried not to think about it, but he couldn’t stop himself. The likeness was uncanny, and it was rare for two people with the same abilities to emerge in the same city. It happened but it was rare.

Telekinesis. And not just that, a mastery of his ability, how effortless the destruction seemed to him. An unwillingness to yield.

This must be Supervillain, and if it was Superhero was hesitant to engage. Which sounded terrible as the leader of the Heroes but, even leader’s get scared.

Supervillain was fighting four seasoned Heroes and Superhero all at once — not to mention Tides who was the only new recruit there — without breaking a sweat. Superhero had tried to call Kit, but no luck. Supervillain’s face was covered by a mask and he wore civilian clothes, as if this was a casual affair for him. Like he just walked off the streets and decided, why not cause some chaos? Sirens and emergency services rushed to the scene of people in need, people who had been hit by the debris.

Thankfully, it looked to be a small amount of casualties due to how late it was, but still. Something was wrong with the scene, and Superhero needed to find out what. If that Supervillain… was actually Mentor or not.

And if so, how? How was he here? Why had he escaped and turned out like this? What was going on?! A Supervillain? Threatening the city? That wasn’t Mentor’s way… unless this was Omen’s plan all along, to destroy the legacy of a great man. To make the great man a monster and destroy it himself.

Supervillain inclined his head at Superhero, raising his hand palm up and flexing his fingers goading Superhero into a fight. Superhero lunged for him, bouncing from one building towards Supervillain. When he was in mid-air, Supervillain made a wide sweeping gesture with his arm and a hurricane of rocks and concrete hurtled towards Superhero.

He dodged between the initial wave, but he didn’t expect the second. Mentor’s stone arm caught him around the waist and the pair went flying into a building.

While Superhero was distracted, Supervillain turned his attention to Tides. He aimed for the water under her feet keeping her in the air, wiping it away with a sweep of his arm. Tides cried out as she started to fall, but Supervillain caught her, keeping her suspended in mid-air.

Superhero recovered quickly, and went soaring again, taking the wind in his wings with a grin. It felt so good to let them out again. His eyes zeroed in on Supervillain, hoping he would realise Superhero was behind him too late and they could all go home and sleep in their beds tonight.

At the last second, right before Superhero made contact with Supervillain, Supervillain turned their head to Superhero. Superhero’s eyes widened but it was too late, they had committed to the movement, already in mid air. With a sweep of his hand, Supervillain sent Superhero back two blocks, tumbling onto a rooftop. His wings wrapped around him cushioning his fall as he rolled.

Supervillain turned back to Tides who was struggling in his hold and shot towards her. He grabbed her by the neck, and threw her down onto a roof behind her. Tides almost passed out from the impact, her entire body arching as breath was stolen from her lungs. Her body bounced off the concrete, like she was a rag-doll being thrown before rolling to a stop, gasping in air. Supervillain followed her with easy steps, before kicking her onto her back and standing above her. He pressed his foot down on her chest.

“Where’s Malyn?” Supervillain asked, tilting his head. Tides cried out as Supervillain’s foot gathered telekinesis behind it and forced her down into the concrete, cracking the roof around her. A small crater Tides shaped now etched on the rooftop.

“I won’t tell you,” Tides said through gritted teeth. The pressure increased and Tides screamed, her hands flying to Supervillain’s ankle and clawing at it, trying to get it to budge. Supervillain put his hands in his trouser pockets, as if this were a casual conversation, like he wasn’t even breaking a sweat.

“Tell me or I’ll break every bone in your body, Tides.”

Tides abandoned trying to dislodge Supervillain’s foot, and instead gathered a canon of water behind him. She splayed her fingers and the canon blasted towards Supervillain before losing momentum as Tides let out a blood-curling scream.

Her wrist snapped like a twig, leaving her arm useless as she tried to summon water. The pain was blinding, but Supervillain didn’t let up for a second, moving his foot idly from her chest to her broken wrist.

“Where,” Supervillain asked again, leaning forward so more of his weight pressed on Tides’ wrist. “Is Malyn?”

“I don’t know,” Tides cried out, her mind going blank as the pain burned through her, tears blinding her. “I don’t know! I don’t!”

“Hmm,” Supervillain hummed above her. “I don’t believe you.”

Tides screwed her eyes shut and looked away, not wanting to see the final blow coming. She wasn’t masochistic enough for that, quite happy to live in blissful ignorance.

Then the pressure was suddenly off her with a thump of body meeting body and Tides' eyes flew open. Supervillain was gone, and Tides took to sobbing. She glanced at her mangled wrist and felt bile climbing her throat. Every breath was an effort as she tried to sit up and failed, opting to just lay on the roof, motionless and cry.

Superhero shot like a bullet, barreling into the new Supervillain and flying away from the city to the local park instead where there would be far less casualties. Superhero threw Villain down to the ground with a terrifying force and floated down after him.

~*~*~*~

Ambrose kicked the car into reverse just as Kit saw two figures flying over the night sky. “Ambrose! We have to go after them! That’s Superhero!”

Ambrose hooked his arm over the passenger seat, turning to look back out the window as they reversed.

“Do I look like I care?” Ambrose asked, meeting Kit’s glare. “Genuine question, Mallory. Do I look like I give a shit what happens to the number one fuck up in the city? Cause if I do, I need to fix that.”

“This isn’t some joke! Stop the car. Let me out! Let me go, Ambrose.”

“No.”

“That could be Mentor!” Kit yelled after Ambrose turned front again and manoeuvred around the debris in the road. Kit huffed out a breath through his nose reaching for his seatbelt.

“Don’t touch your seatbelt if you know what’s good for you, Kit, I swear to God. I will knock you out again.”

Desperation rose in Kit’s stomach as Ambrose took a backstreet shortcut to get out of the city. Kit could only watch as they passed the park. Superhero was hovering over the trees, throwing a body down into the grass when Ambrose sped past.

~*~*~*~

Supervillain rolled until he gained ground beneath his fingertips and got to his feet two metres away from Superhero.

“Who are you?!” Superhero demanded, voice livid.

Supervillain tilted his head but said nothing. Superhero’s lip curled back into a snarl and he shot off again, leaving a small crater where his feet were. Flying wasn’t exactly a great superpower, but it was what Superhero had and he learned to use it to his advantage in fights.

He flew at Supervillain, drawing his fist back with a roar and aimed for Supervillain’s cheek. Supervillain lifted his forearm, diverting the blow. He punched Superhero in the gut, a jab, then an uppercut. Superhero dodged back, pushing off his heels as his hands outstretched going for Supervillain’s porcelain mask.

Supervillain ducked, swiping Superhero’s legs out from under him. Superhero dropped, his back barely hitting the ground before he launched himself towards Supervillain.

Supervillain moved with speed and grace, as if he’d been fighting all his life, and he didn’t even seem to be breaking a sweat. Superhero, on the other hand, was tiring quickly, not used to the amount of power and focus he was using to try and land a hit on Supervillain.

Supervillain went to sweep his arm. Superhero caught it with a death grip, grinned and spun. Planting his left foot in the ground he pivoted and threw Supervillain as far as he could. Supervillain went flying backwards, getting caught in the leaves of a tree. The branches split and broke around him, a tear in the earth opening from where Supervillain had split the tree open to let himself down.

He wiped the leaves off his shoulders and Superhero grinned. Maybe he can be beaten. Superhero launched himself at Supervillain again, not giving him a chance to recover.

“Enough playtime.” Supervillain said.

Supervillain lifted a hand lazily and Superhero froze in mid-air, the air turned against him, freezing him in place. Superhero’s eyes widened. That’s not possible. There’s no way that he’s… that that’s Mentor, there’s…

Villain walked slowly towards Superhero, taking his sweet time about it. He stopped in front of Superhero, mask to face. “Don’t you recognise me, Superhero?”

Superhero flinched at the voice. It was disguised, which… no, there’s no way that was Mentor. Mentor was always transparent and never wore a mask. He wouldn’t.

But then again… that’s when Mentor was a hero, a symbol of peace and justice in the city.

Villain reached out and grabbed a fistful of Superhero’s hair, yanking his head back. Superhero grit his teeth but didn’t cry out. “Where’s Malyn?”

Superhero’s shock must have shown on his face. “What?”

Villain yanked their neck back farther and Superhero couldn’t contain the groan from the strain. “Malyn. I want him. Now. Where. Is. He?”

Superhero frowned. Surely Mentor would know where Kit lived? But then… no, he wouldn’t. Kit moved after Omen drove Mentor crazy.

“You won’t find him.” Superhero said, huffing a breath out through their nose. Supervillain hummed. He stepped back and clicked his fingers. Superhero’s body moved at an impossible speed, back snapping against the bark of a tree and Superhero cried out.

Supervillain didn’t stop. He was dragged back along the dirt by his ankle, as if being pulled by an invisible lasso. He blacked out from the blow, but his brain shot him back into consciousness as his back was dragged harshly over the terrain. Supervillain came into view again. Superhero’s body was forced up as if suspended from the air, hanging like a limp puppet.

“Malyn, Superhero. I don’t have the patience for this game of cat and mouse.”

“Why… why are you—” Superhero’s breath hitched as his body contorted against his will. “D-doing this?”

“I want the boy. If you don’t bring him to me in three days, I will destroy the rest of the city, and all of your pathetic heroes.”

Supervillain closed their hand into a fist and Superhero screamed. “Have him meet me at the Hero Academy, 10pm. Alone. Any funny business and I’ll make sure that Tides dies, do you understand?”

“T— Leave Tides alone! Take- take me!”

“Oh, I would,” Supervillain said, opening his fist again. Superhero fell to the ground, his head slapping off the dirt. Supervillain crouched down in front of him and with a gloved hand tilted Superhero’s chin up. “But you have the best chance of getting me what I want. The boy for Tides. Hero Academy. Three days. 10 O’clock, got it?”

Superhero let out a broken breath of air which Supervillain took to mean yes. Villain slapped Superhero’s cheek. “Good boy. At least you still know how to take orders.”

Villain disappeared after that, leaving Superhero shaking in the dirt.

~*~*~*~

Ambrose didn’t even bother to make Kit forget the way to his house. If he was honest, he was exhausted. This was not how tonight was supposed to go. They pulled up to Ambrose’s house, stopping in front of two giant gates. Ambrose pressed a button and the gates opened.

“What are you, Batman?” Kit asked as he took in the mansion they were driving into. Ambrose chuckled at the comment but didn’t reply. The gates closed behind them as they drove in. The driveway was long, like something out of a movie and had a fucking roundabout at the entrance to the house.

Ambrose opened the door and stepped out. He walked around to the passenger side and opened Kit’s door, pulling the seat forward. “You can get out now, child.”

“I’m not a child,” Kit grumbled, obeying the order.

“Yes, you are,” said Ambrose with a sigh. He slammed the door after Kit got out, locking the doors over his shoulder with a click of his keys and a flash of lights. “You don’t do anything without being told, and you push boundaries like a fucking toddler.”

“Yeah, your stupid enforced boundaries because you’re a fucking control freak, and everything has to go Ambrose’s way! Right?!”

Ambrose ignored him, unlocking the door to his house and holding it open from Kit to follow. Kit scoffed and walked inside.

“You know this whole silent brooding thing is really starting to piss me off!” Kit told him.

Ambrose shut the door and locked it. “Your irritation is duly noted. I’ll file it under I don’t give a fuck.”

Kit whirled on Ambrose again, about to tear him a new one but paused. Ambrose stood pinching the bridge of his nose, letting out a long, laboured sigh. Kit bit back his gripes.

“Tell you what,” Ambrose said eventually. His voice soft and so un-Ambrose like. Tired, Kit realised. It was as if all energy had been zapped from him after the drive, and maybe it was. Adrenaline had a habit of doing that to you. Ambrose took the key for the cuffs out of his pocket and tossed it. “You can sleep on all of the names you want to call me, and tell me over breakfast tomorrow.”

Kit caught the key, eyes wide with surprise as he unlocked the cuffs around his wrist. He glanced up at Ambrose, but Ambrose was already making for the stairs with tired movements. He lifted a hand without turning back to face Kit.

“Take whatever room you want. I honestly couldn’t care less.”

Kit stood shocked as he watched the villain ascend the staircase straight from the titanic to the second floor. Disbelief ebbed to his own wave of sleep that overtook him and he followed Ambrose up the stairs. He could think more tomorrow. Sleep would bring clarity. He could think logically in the morning.

Kit took the door closest to him and kicked off his shoes. He pulled his jacket off, unzipping his jeans, stepping out of them as he fell into— fuck this was probably the most comfortable bed he ever lay on.

That was his last thought before the blackness swallowed him, eyelids falling heavy over his eyes.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Orphanage roll-call (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @whumpyworld @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @acer-gaysimpstuff @m3rakii @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @blood-enthusiast @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @andtheysaidspeaknoww @dutifullykrispyland @mononeigbour @tippytappytyping @stefaniesblogs @shinokoro @bedtimescenarios @whatwhump

[anim-ttrpgs]

Exerpt from Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy (with art by @theblackwarden)

[laughingsquid]

How Car Chase Scenes Evolved Over a 100 Years

[talesyettold]

I expect car chases may play an important role for Strangers in the Wood 2, so I made chase mechanics and a tracker to handle it.

[mgdeerla]

baby's first heist

[filledwithpotassium]

here is yet another video i’m (somewhat) proud of :)

here’s the youtube link

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I was being chased in my car by Mick Jagger in a Cheeto-themed submarine.

[fuzzyghost]

[zippocreed501]

Vanishing Point (1971)