All in One Night

No-one would ever look in there at any time and I could fetch the phones later after I dealt with my enemies!.

Concealing them carefully, I then returned to the car, closed the door and strapped myself back in, cocooned safely inside the quiet, cold machine and continuing my patient vigil, including steadily getting my anger under control after the vile filth I'd just read, as I knew I needed to keep a clear head!.

But then suddenly I was rewarded as I finally saw car headlights in the distance, moving down my long driveway and heading toward the main gates!.

Watching intently, my pulse quickened as I saw the car slow and then turn left, away from my position which meant that it was driving north, perhaps toward the town of Hadspen and then onto the suburbs of Launceston where I now knew McCulloch lived, thanks to the detail from his nicked wallet in my pocket!.

With a joyous snarl, I prepared to move!.

It was now time for the man of action to come to the fore!.

The real me, no more stealth, no more worry and no more humiliation ever!

I felt enormous relief as the past few strained hours flew from my soul like the cold night wind, as now it was my time to act!.

I felt completely transformed as all that anger within me broke down the walls of confinement and came to the fore, taking control and harnessing all of my abilities.

All their plotting, all their abuse from all their attacks on me, an entirely innocent man and completely undeserving of their abuse and schemes!.

I'd show them, I'd show them all and make them pay dearly!.

I then strangely remembered that song by the band; "Wings" and sung by Sir Paul McCartney that just popped into my mind; "Live and let die"!.

It started so serenely;

"When you were young and your heart was an open book, you used to say live and let live".

I now felt my body tense and adjust for maximum comfort in the contoured seat of the McLaren as the melody continued relentlessly in my mind,

"But if this ever changing world in which we're living, makes you give in and cry, Say Live and let Die"!.

I heard the dramatic music of the chorus explode to a crescendo in my mind as automatically, I simultaneously pressed the starter button located on the central console below the main screen where suddenly the mighty M838TE twin turbocharged V8 engine barked with ignition and then into life as it emitted a deep loud powerful growl in concert with the dramatic 'Live and let die' chorus of the song!.

She was now ready to fly, my beautiful girl 'Imogen' and together we would wreak vengeance on our enemies!.

I could feel the latent power pulsing within her, waiting to be unleashed, a power that energised and matched my anger and thirst for vengeance!.

Swiftly, instinctively, I activated the LED headlights as the dashboard and central console fully lit up, but I deliberately kept the "Galileo" satellite navigation system deactivated, as didn't want anyone to ever track me and find out what I was about to do!.

Simultaneously, I also made sure that all the communications were off as well, just as I did in the little 'Zoe' electric car before I left my campsite earlier, as I wanted to remain as invisible as possible!.

The McLaren 570 GT-S' dashboard was dominated by a central tachometer indicating engine revs, with gear selection and the speedo to the side in crisp green colours.

Again, I remembered reading of fighter pilots complaining about information overload in their jets, so I had pre-programmed the McLaren's consoles after my first test drive to display only basic information in simple green, with no colour distractions, just enough to aid the driver's concentration.

I selected first gear out of the seven, via the left side flappy paddle gear lever attached to the side of the steering wheel column, the higher gears were naturally on the right-hand side of the steering column.

All this took mere seconds as my hands moved rapidly to begin moving.

I then gently touched the throttle pedal and with a low rumble the engine responded as I quickly turned the steering wheel for a fast U-turn, so that the front of the car now faced north and was on the correct side of sealed road.

I was now ready to attack, my heart was thumping in my chest and time itself seemed to slow down.

But first there was something I just couldn't resist doing, something I simply had to do despite the fraught circumstances!.

With a heavy shove of the brake and then throttle pedals, my left hand swiftly moved to the central control column and activated the "Launch Control" function.

The main dashboard immediately changed configuration as a posh sounding, very English female voice that sounded remarkably like the eloquently charming Charlotte Green from the BBC, suddenly issued from the car aural speakers that surrounded me.

This of course was 'Imogen' speaking as I recalled that pilots in the agile Russian Mig-29 fighter jets also had a female voice warning system installed called "Rita"!.

Well, in my McLaren 570GT-S, I had 'Imogen' and she was as concise as always in that impeccable and soothing feminine English accent;

"Attention, Launch Control sequence activated, power building", she stated in that reassuring clipped very English "received pronunciated" voice.

I immediately felt the mighty M838TE V8 located behind my back quickly spool up to high engine revs, the noise sounded almost jet-like as I could see the beginnings of white flames spewing out of the twin exhaust pipes via the rear-view mirror and then the rear camera view which was now displayed on the central console screen as the night around the car was illuminated briefly!.

The central tachometer then touched 8500 RPM to full power with the engine roar seeming so loud, it felt as if a fucking big dinosaur was located behind my head in the engine bay!.

I was now finally ready, ready to unleash hell on earth to all of my enemies and 'Imogen' would be my white 'chariot of vengeance'!.

I felt alive, every sense alert, my mind clear with only one purpose now- total destruction of my enemies!.

It was time, finally my time, time to show my enemies that I was a man and not someone to be trifled with!.

I then released the brake and suddenly, violently the car surged forward like an eager horse chafing at the bit to run as the "launch control" handled the gearing to best obtain maximum grip and no slippage as the car raced away with a roar!.

"Say live and let die" the line from the song loudly resonated in my mind as I then blasted forward!.

I felt total exhilaration as I suddenly yelled out aloud with a roar;

"And the mighty McLaren is unleashed"!.

From that standing start using "launch control", I quickly saw 100 km/h slip by in only 3.2 seconds according to the dashboard timer as the speedo continued to climb as the car roared ever faster!.

I felt my body pushed back into the soft, comfortable seat as the acceleration overcame my muscles, but I stayed focussed ahead nevertheless!.

My little French Renault 'Zoe' electric hatchback, was all very well and fun to drive as a lark, but this McLaren, this powerful supercar far better matched my personality, a real man's car as in truth this is what men do, drive very fast and pushing themselves to the limit in whatever endeavour a man chooses in how he lives his life!.

God help those poor men who lived a life that was unrealised or are cowed and worn down by the societal forces of repression and neutering, the sinister forces who take away the essence of what it is that makes a man truly feel like a man!.

Well I'm not one of those neutered, suppressed and weak men, I'm my own man, living my life on my own terms and now was a time to fight and somehow I would destroy my enemies, no matter what it took!.

Soon though I was passing 200 km/h as the night landscape whizzed by with the speedo still climbing as I began my pursuit of the evil McCulloch in his fucking fat-arsed shitbox brown PT Cruiser.

By this time I was passing into 4th gear and the world outside was beginning to blur such was my rising speed, but then in the distance I saw him further ahead, his two red rear lights clearly illuminated as he plodded along on the dark rural road.

Slowing a little I estimated him to be at about 100 km/h, less than a third of the McLaren's ultimate top speed.

I watched and followed my enemy as I contemplated my next move, now the target was in sight.

For some reason I then had "the idea", a radical thought that suddenly came into my head from nowhere but would utterly change my life forever more!.

I've no idea where it came from, perhaps it was a random thought my mind created and seized upon or perhaps it was my other selves; past and future now telling me something?.

An idea so unconventional and out of character that I just couldn't ignore it, but whatever the source, the idea was just what I wanted to hear and I didn't want it to go away!.

Why follow him to his home and then attacking him there, why not just dispatch him now and right here on this road where there is no-one about and nobody suspects a thing?.

There it was, so simple, so seductive and yet so far reachingly destructive!.

Contrary to McCulloch's "braggadocio", I instinctively knew that I was the better man, indeed McCulloch was not even a man in my view as the car he drove immediately told me all that I needed to know about what an utter loser he really was in life!.

I was a better driver, had a better car, was more intelligent and was far more successful in life!.

So yes, I was the winner and he's definitely the loser!.

I would undoubtedly prevail in this war and yes, he and his vile cohorts had declared war against me for no valid reason, but unfortunately for them, I'm an advocate of total war with no compromises and nothing less than the total extermination of my enemies!.

Indeed, I firmly believed as part of my own morality that flagrant instigators of aggression against innocent unsuspecting people deserved extra disproportionate punishment, firstly to deter further unwarranted aggression in future towards other innocent people and then to compensate their innocent victims for their unwarranted abuse and attack!.

Sadly the world today has lost the meaning of true justice!.

I'd now extend the same ruthlessness against McCulloch, that made me such a success in my business and life generally.

I'll show them all and they'd all fear me!.

McCulloch mocked me as a 'cucky', whatever that was, well I now have a word to describe him, "victim"!.

So he thinks he's tough and delights in his so called sharp "piranha teeth" marking my woman, well little fish compared to you, I'm a fucking dangerous three tonne Tigershark!.

So feel my bite as I slash and rip you apart while you're still alive you pissy sack of shit, I reflected with rising anger!.

I instantly knew just how to do it too, I'd dispatch him by using my mighty McLaren 570GT-S as my weapon.

I had no need for a gun as 'Imogen' would be my engine of destruction now!.

With careful timing and positioning as well as balancing speed, acceleration and braking, I could force him into oncoming traffic and keep him pinned there by blocking his movements forwards and backwards forcing him to crash into oncoming traffic or veer off the road at high speed in an ugly crash, hopefully killing him at best and injuring him badly at least.

Yes it could be done and I had no doubt I had the skill and the right high performance car to make it so!.

Thank goodness I had the good sense to not continue with my slow electric Renault 'Zoe' and her depleted batteries!.

I now needed to act having made my decision, a decision made almost automatically as if I were a mere puppet and all of my past and future selves were now guiding my body and mind in this, the biggest fight of my life!.

Curious feeling really, but perhaps I was just over charged on all of the emotions I had felt over the past few hours?.

Mind you, all I felt now was just cold, vicious ruthlessness and the comfort that came from controlling this low slung very fast car and what I now decided I was going to do, destroy them completely!.

Something else then intruded into my mind, yes of course "modus operandi", don't give the 'rozzers' any notion of repetition or as little as possible!.

I remember watching the television series "Poirot" by Agatha Christie, where at one point Poirot boasts that if he ever turned to crime, the police would never catch him as he'd always change his "modus operandi" as he went about his "crimewave".

So yes, forget burning McCulloch's and then Holgate's house, instead start with dispatching him now, here on this road!.

My decision made, I then acted with a very simple action that would forever change my life;

A simple hard kick on the throttle and then up to a higher gear via the flappy paddle gearbox levers after which 'Imogen' immediately responded with poise and power as the V8 roared even louder as we now quickly accelerated closer to our prey.

I then did feel like that fucking three tonne Tigershark as I closed in on my hapless unsuspecting victim; stupid worthless McCulloch as he puttered along at perhaps 120 km/h now and utterly oblivious to the deadly predator close behind him, stalking and closing in for the kill!.

I felt my mouth twist and bared my teeth now as I prepared to take that first slashing bite as I closed in on him swiftly.

Mr Tigershark was now ready with his nasty teeth!.

For some reason then a faint memory flashed through my mind, of all the times.

What was the name of that fucking big dinosaur with the shark-like teeth, an African rival to Tyrannosaurus that lived in what is now the Sahara desert long ago?.

What was it, ah yes, I know; Carcharodontosaurus, from the Cretaceous period with massive teeth like a shark that lived on the land, when the Sahara was lush!.

Ten tonnes of slashing death in those sharp teeth, so yes hear me fucking roar you fucking little fish McCulloch!.

If fucking McCulloch labelled himself a fucking little piranha, then I was a far nastier fucking Tigershark or worse a fucking great ten tonne Carcharodontosaurus poised to bite and kill.

So hear me fucking roar now McCulloch you fucking fucked up tosspot!.

The gap between us had closed and now I was just behind his shitbox car, I then switched the LED headlights to full beam so as to blind him and also any oncoming traffic.

Then I struck, now fully committed no matter what!.

This is what separated the men from all those fucking piss drinking weaklings, the killer instinct and I had it in spades!.

Suddenly accelerating with another kick of the throttle, I easily overtook McCulloch and then with a touch of the carbon ceramic brakes, slowed a little and turned to slot in just in front of him as I forced my enemy, now located behind me, to slow down until he hopefully became frustrated.

My eyes constantly adjusted, looking forward, then wing mirror and finally rear mirror to then repeat the observing cycle.

Although my McLaren 570GT-S came equipped with a rear-view camera, I kept it switched off now as I wanted to minimise any distracting and repetitive

fourth image from the central screen to look at as I needed to keep my enemy constantly watched and with as fewer distractions as possible, which would allow a quicker response on my part to keep him always blocked.

Gradually slowing down, I then heard his car horn blowing loudly and repeatedly, rudely signalling his frame of mind for me to get out of his way!.

Uncouth, coarse and unworthy as an opponent I again remined myself as clearly McCulloch wasn't a real man!.

Suddenly he then responded to our combined reduced speed by trying to overtake me from our current low 70 km/h to something higher!.

I instantly responded as he tried to draw parallel with me by surging forward even faster via a hard kick to the throttle!.

McCulloch tried pitifully to match 'Imogen's' rapid acceleration and rising speed but he quickly failed to keep pace as our speeds climbed higher and higher, such that no matter how hard he tried to accelerate, his useless PT Cruiser shitbox just couldn't keep up with my cantering McLaren 570GT-S as he simply was no match for the mighty McLaren and I!.

Invariably he slowed down and dropped back to slot in behind me as I instantly kicked my carbon ceramic brakes with a heavy foot which resulted in an immediate slowing down.

I noted that I had much better braking ability too as the speed of the McLaren continued to bleed away with me still in front of him as I slowed to steadily lower speeds!.

This was really great sport, toying with the big slow loser!.

The oaf then blew louder on his horn and repeatedly too as the road continued closer to the township of Hadspen.

We seemed almost locked together as we approached a corner where I briefly considered, but ultimately resisted the temptation to turn the "traction control" function to the off position as I proceeded at speed to round the corner in full control and with 'Imogen' purring along and still in the lead as we kissed the apex and exited the bend easily ahead as McCulloch tried unsuccessfully to match my manoeuvre with an unsteady hand as if he was unsure what to do!.

Oh yes, I had no doubt now that I'm clearly the better driver!.

We were now on a straight section of road with many kilometres of arrow straight bitumen ahead but which then inclined near the end of the straight to a slight hill at the top as I recalled.

I knew this section of road well and knew that each side of the road dropped down to embankments that were heavily wooded with trees, shrubs and boulders down the steep inclines and especially at the bottom.

If ever there was a killing ground, this was it and I was sure here is where Iwould dispatch my prey, the vicious Tigershark and slashing teeth of the ferocious Carcharodontosaur would eliminate the pitiful piranha in his pissy brown shitbox car!

Yes, here was where it would occur on this cold road with the mist now increasingly flitting about as 'Imogen' and I cut our way through the cold night air!.

Maintaining my rapid three-point observations of forward and various mirror views, I again heard McCulloch giving me the horn as he tried again and for the last time to overtake me from our current trundling speed of only 60 km/h.

Keeping my concentration and channelled anger, I steeled myself for the final battle now!.

No more games now, I'd played with my opponent, gauged his abilities and ultimately found him lacking in every department, so now was the time to settle this once and for all and I was going to win in what was clearly a fight to the death!.

Patiently I waited for his inevitable strike as I poised both machine and man, ready for his pitiful attack.

Finally he moved to overtake, but I was ready for him and instantly faster!.

My body was a blur of movement; checking the sight lines, gear selection and shoving the throttle hard to the floor.

'Imogen' immediately responded as I knew she would, her sleek white body cutting through the misty air as her mighty twin turbo V8 engine wound up much faster than McCulloch could ever hope to match in his brown shit box!.

The Pirelli types gripping the road as 'Imogen' punched forward ever faster to match my enemy's jockeying.

Carefully timing my manoeuvre, the road ahead was as clear as a bell as my enemy finally pulled parallel to me which is just what I wanted, but no matter how fast he sped, he simply couldn't complete the overtake as 'Imogen' and I easily matched him and his pitiful efforts!.

We were now locked together moving faster and faster but crucially he was still parallel to me and of course now on the wrong side of the road, facing oncoming traffic!.