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Driving out of Pentagram City is an act of desperation. It’s a stupid idea, really, because there isn’t a simple escape to be found on a road leading nowhere all that far from the starting point. That’s Hell for you: you are not supposed to leave, isn’t that how it goes? Either way, this isn’t the case of a well-thought-out decision. No, there is no plan backing up any of that. The car doesn’t even belong to either of them.
Vox doesn’t really remember the car owner’s face, and he is vaguely aware he will have to search through the feeds to figure that out and make a whole show of compensation to secure silence once he is back. That means Vox will have to watch himself back in that moment, but that is an embarrassment for a much calmer state of mind.
The heat has been unbearable.
This shitty cheap car can’t handle the warm weather at all. The AC broke before they even left the city and Val’s not-so-delicate approach to it didn’t bring it back on.
The window is rolled all the way down. There is no wind, but the movement of the car makes the hot air flow by. It doesn’t help. The silence inside the car only adds to the suffocating feeling caused by this sort of heatwave. It’s not actually a heatwave, but Vox refuses to classify it properly even in the privacy of his own mind.
Valentino is busy checking out a small collection of CDs found in the glove compartment. Vox doesn’t really care. The road outside the city reminds him of driving through the desert. He glances at the mirror, and he can see the outline of the city they are never really leaving behind. It’s odd. Vox has never been one to fix his problems by running from them. He will have to address this new development later on.
Vox glances at Valentino who has all of his hands busy. He is holding a dead cigarette that he’s likely to not have notice going out, still checking out the tracks on those CDs and using his free hands to fan himself and pull his shirt away from his body enough for it to cause some air movement. Valentino wasn’t even supposed to be there, but when Vox borrowed the car from that Sinner, Val simply got in as well.
He hasn’t complained about any of it. Yet. He will, eventually.
It’s really hot. The road ahead seems to blur with the heat haze. That, or Vox is overheating. Vox hears the CDs being thrown on the back seat and he blinks, grounded by the sudden noise. Val chose one to be the soundtrack of this road trip and Vox doesn’t get a say.
There’s a chance Valentino actually understands the urgency of getting away from whatever. Vox doesn’t want to think too hard about it because he doesn’t want to think too hard about what Val’s life was before he died.
A song he doesn’t know starts blasting in the car. Val sits back and looks out of the window. His hand moves to hold his cigarette close to Vox, but he doesn’t really look at Vox while asking him for a light. Vox takes the cigarette holder to light the cigarette up before handing it back to Val.
“It’s kinda ugly out here,” Val says.
It’s now a showstopping remark, but it is an offer of some sort of peace.
“I suppose,” Vox adds.
Val continues watching the scenery. The music continues filling the silence. Vox keeps driving.
“I could do something with it,” Val says and Vox isn’t sure he means turning it into art, porn or something else.
Vox is not in the right mind to talk business, so he hopes Val means art. Vox doesn’t have to get it if it’s Val’s art.
“Like what?”
Valentino shrugs.
“Dunno. But it could mean something.”
Vox can’t see it. He looks at the barren land, at the road leading nowhere new. The hot hazy air doesn’t make it any better. He really doesn’t see the same thing Val does when looking at this place.
Valentino is tapping his foot to the song. Vox glances at it. Maybe Val knows this sort of music. He glances at Valentino’s profile and wonders if he likes it. He could’ve asked about it if the moment was right. As it is, the car makes a choking dying noise and then stops.
The car fully breaking outside the city doesn’t really come as a surprise.
Val makes a sound of annoyance. Vox gets out of the car. He slams the door so hard it could have stuck shut forever or fall down from the rest of the car completely. For some reason, this situation pisses him off.
The heat outside the car seems worse even if he knows it is not. He takes off his jacket and throws it over the rolled window. He works his sleeves up. Valentino watches him from inside the car. It’s not his fault, but Vox glares daggers at him before opening the car to check what the fuck is wrong with it.
There is no solution to be found in any of those parts. It’s sheer luck that the car even got them this far. Just his luck to borrow the shittiest car on the fucking street. Vos slams the hood down. Valentino is stretching a few steps away from the car. Vox watches as his arms stretch above his head and his back arches perfectly with the movement. He is watching the horizon like it means something.
Vox can feel sweat running down his back, making his shirt stick to his skin. He watches Val a little longer. There is something nice about watching Val looking at the world and seeing things Vox isn’t able to see. He doesn’t want to interrupt it, so he moves back into the car to figure out if there is anything useful in there.
The glove compartment has a bunch of junk that may have meant something to that Sinner, but that doesn’t interest Vox at all. The backseat has the CDs Val didn’t care about. Under the passenger’s seat, barely peeking out, Vox finds booze. He checks it out and it seems to be something that is more alcohol than anything else. It smells like it may poison a lightweight drinker with just a sip. Vox takes it and closes the door.
He leans against the car and watches Valentino. The red smoke floats around him, dissipating into the hot air and adding a little color to it. It makes everything worse. Vox opens the bottle and takes a long sip. It tastes worse than it smells. Vox really doesn’t get whatever Val has found in this scenery.
Vox looks up at the red sky. No clouds. No wind. The heat should still last for some time.