Racing Stripes 2 Movie Novels & Stories

Humiliated into a rage, Karina shot to her feet and shrieked, "A hundred and seventy million! Whatever she bids, I'll top it by twenty million!" The auctioneer perked up and sent his voice ringing across the hall. "Does anyone care to raise?" Calmly, I raised my hand. "Two hundred million!" Karina's hands trembled with rage, her face dark, her eyes venomous as a snake's. She ground out each word. "You'd best back off right now, you bitch, or even if you make it out that door, I'll see to it you don't live through the night." A naked threat.

I saw my opening. I took it. Beatrice lunged forward with a cough and a roar. The truck rocked violently, but we slipped past, claiming second place. The leader was a black sports coupe with blue racing stripes, its tail lights blinking just ahead. I narrowed my eyes, calculating the rhythm of his turns. He was precise. Too precise. He didn’t know how to improvise. I did. We hit a straightaway. I floored it. Beatrice screamed beneath me. The engine wailed like it wanted to quit, but we kept climbing. Inch by inch, we closed the distance.

She show him her middle finger as her hands are covered in white gloves adding a good contrast to her red race gear, before pulling the windows up. He clench his teeth angrily turning on his own car engine. “lets see who will win this race”, he tells himself. “Ofcourse me, as always”, he tell back mentally smirking. Jack: so all the racers on your marks, three.... two.... one.....go! A loud gunshot make cassandra press her leg on accelerator making her car dash forward cutting air. She saw black Lamborghini just beside her catching speed. Not in a mood of losing she press more on the accelerator as now her car is in lead.

The roar of the engines at the Swift Racing Circuit was deafening, a primal scream of metal and rubber against the sun-baked asphalt. Sarah Vance suddenly slammed her foot onto the accelerator, her Ferrari tearing through the gates like a red streak of lightning. Dust billowed in massive, suffocating clouds, obscuring the horizon as the track staff stood frozen in awe. They watched as two women, radiating a lethal blend of beauty and raw power, handled the high-performance machines with the cold, calculating precision of fighter pilots.

With one drifting move, Shawn overtook the Mustang that was driving around the corner just a few meters from the finish line. The Mustang's driver was already optimistic that he would emerge victorious from the turn, at least until the flawless drifting action of the matte black GT-R erased any confidence in the Mustang's driver. In just a few seconds that seemed blurry to the eyes of the Mustang's driver, the GT-R managed to touch the finish line and greeted his victory with a twisting action using an amazing drift technique.

"What did he mean?" Jason perked up, excitement creeping back into his voice. He began driving toward an open lot where cars were lined up, organized by men in bandanas who directed the drivers. Jason's grin widened as he gestured toward the cars. "Yeah, the point of racing is to not crash or get caught by the cops, so we use measures to take out our opponents. We use stuff like guns, batons, spiked chains, and sometimes we tinker with our cars to have secret weapons. Isn't that neat?"

“Let’s go get a pizza.” I grab a jacket from the coat tree beside the door, slipping it on and reaching into the pocket for the keys to my Mustang. I’ve always had a thing for fast cars and the Mustang is my latest acquisition, shiny and black with white racing stripes. Serena follows me outside and I click the key fob to unlock the doors, climbing into the drivers’ seat as she slips in on the passenger side.

Maybe this really was what I needed. I managed a small smile at him and then shifted my gaze to the racing ground. By now the racers had lined up by the edge of the track, each wearing different shirts with different names—obviously representing their clubs. The track stretched out before us like a horizon, filled with deadly obstacles just like the one in Blackmoore and my heart raced just looking at it. To think Jettison had raced here countless times just to raise money to start a company it couldn’t have been easy.

Bree was greeted by Elvis who smirked at her, then she smiled back at him, sweetly, and the mustache dude actually blushed which made her giggle, and walked past the guy into the strip club with a lighter step on her feet. Rocco wasn't lying, the men were far from the ordinary crowd you'd see in movies. Most were dressed in suits, work clothes, and some fine-looking jackets, even their shoes looked expensive. But what threw her into reality was what the women were wearing, she's not sure she can flaunt her body like that.

The sun blazed against my skin. Engines roared like thunder in the distance, the scent of fuel and burnt rubber clinging to the summer air. The race drew out every thrill-seeker from town and beyond. Dust swirled in chaotic clouds as a car lined up at the starting strip, the hoods popped, decals gleaming under the harsh sun. Rocco was smoking hot, with his sleeves rolled up, cocky grin in place, his driver’s suit slung low on his hips like he was born to win. The crowd cheered as he stepped outside his cobalt-blue ride, waving to me like he was some movie star.